"Cubs." Packmaster Rogueston thought to himself goodnaturedly as he looked across the campfire at the children huddled together on the other side. "So full of youth and mischief. But get them away from their homes, and they turn into nervous little mice." The woods were barely lit by the small campfire. The twelve coyote children were used to the dark in their desert home, but this was their first night in the woods, and they kept jumping at shadows caused by the moon and the clouds overhead. They weren't used to the trees, the moss, the noises- Rogueston secretly enjoyed watching them fidget and hold onto each other for support. The elderly coyote reached into a pocket of his knee-length cutoff shorts (they all wore cutoffs, and no shirt. Silly uniform design if you asked his opinion) and pulled out his spiced nibble stick. He twirled the aromatic twig in his lips while he looked at the others. "You all look scared." He flatly said. "Hmph. You have every right to be. Do any of you have any idea where we are?" The youngsters looked back and forth at each other a few times before letting the oldest answer. "Aren't we in Yipedese forest, close to the banks of the Calimar river?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He failed. Rogueston sighed expressively, and leaned back on the log that was serving as his recliner for the evening. "Yes, that's true. But do any of you know where, exactly, in the Yipedese woods we are?" 12 blank expressions stared back at him in the yellow glow of the campfire. "I guess not. Well cubs, this here is a famous place. See that wall over there?" He raised a black clawed finger toward a ruined wall of rough hewn stone that stood a dozen yards distant. "You mean that ivy covered ruin?" the oldest said again. "Yes, that ivy covered ruin." "That's just what's left of an old abandoned inn sir. It's been empty for a century. What's so special about that?" "Oh, nothing much. Just that this particular place is haunted." The youngest cub grabbed the oldest for protection. All of the cubs suddenly clutched one another with trembling arms. "Hau... Haunted?" the eldest whispered. Rogueston nodded. "Oh yes. The locals won't come near this place. Not even during the day. What, none of you have heard about the ghosts that haunt this wall? Not at all?" 12 small shaggy heads shook in negation in the gloom. At least, he thought they were in negation. They could have been shaking with fear, although he didn't think he had them scared enough to be trembling yet. Emphasis on the "yet" part. "Well cubs- long, long ago, this inn was still open and alive with the laughter of travelers. People from far and wide would spend their nights here, resting their dragons and exchanging tales and fortunes with their fellow wanderers. The inn was run by a lovely young vixen. A fox, name of Bess. You all know what a fox looks like, don't you?" 12 shaggy heads nodded in rapt attention. Rogueston smiled and chewed on his stick. "Well forget it. Bess didn't look like that. She had black fur. Yes, you heard right. Bess's fur was as black as midnight on a moonless night. The other foxes took it to be a bad omen, so she and her father moved out here, far from the townfolk and their superstions, and created an inn between two cities. "Now, living way out here might seem lonely. It was. There were lots of people traveling to and fro, but most of them would just stay the night, then Bess would never see them again. So the poor vixen grew up without a boyfriend or anyone to love. Other than her father of course; and he doesn't count. "Well, this one fox named Charlemagne took a shine to her. And since his business brought him by here practically every other week, he made it a point to stop here as often as he could." "What did Charlemagne do for a living packmaster?" The youngest of the cubs asked while reaching for a fresh marshmallow and stabbing it with a stick. Rogueston smiled at him. "He sold dragons son. He would move several of the firebreathing steeds from city to city, buying them cheap in one while selling them high in another. That's what kept him running up and down this road so often. "Anyway. One day he came by without any dragons except for the one he was riding. He told Bess and her father that he was getting out of the business, and that he had a buyer who was willing to pay handsomely to take it from him. Charlemange proposed to Bess right there, in front of the crowd, her father, everyone in the place. He told her how wealthy he would be when he returned in two nights, and how happy he would be if she would come away with him. Now, how could any lady say no to such a proposal?" "Yuck." The smallest coyote grumbled. "Mushy stuff." The cub beside him punched him in the arm and told him to shut up. "But I thought this was gonna be a ghost story." He complained, looking across the campfire expectantly at Rogueston. "Patience cub. Patience. You know what the book of Guile says about that, don't you?" The smallest cub closed his eyes, and began to recite. "The early bird gets the worm. But the patient Coyote who waits can have them both." Rogueston nodded to the lad. "Yes. Very good. You've been studying I see." "Yes sir." He said, hopping off his log and moving closer to the fire with his marshmallow stick. "Well, poor Charlemange never heard about the book of Guile. That was too bad for him, because it could have saved his life. Do you all remember what it says about strangers and loose talk? You do? Well, one of the people in the inn that night belonged to a gang of thieves. Cutthroats and murderers, the whole lot of them. "Two nights later, a bit before sundown, all 8 of them entered the inn, and put out the shingle saying that the Inn was closed. Bess's father protested. One of the murderers slit his throat... SLIT, just like that." he said standing up suddenly and making a cutting motion with his finger across his neck. "Killed him plain as day, right there in front of Bess!" He looked over the cubs to make sure they were properly unnerved before continuing on with his story. "The leader told Bess that he was gonna rob Charlemange just as soon as he arrived. Then he and his crew tied her upright to the stovepipe in the kitchen. They figured that when the newly rich Charlemange came by looking for his love, they would hear the noise and go out the back door. Then they would come at him from both sides of the house. So they laid their guns next to the doorway, and quietly played cards while waiting for the fox to return. "Bess was gagged, bound, and scared. She knew they were going to kill poor Charlemange, and probably her as well. She was terrified about what was about to happen, when all of a sudden, she heard a familiar clicking noise. Click. Clack. Click. Clack." Rogueston made clawing motions toward the nervous children as he made the noises. "She knew that sound well; it was the sound of Charlemagnes dragon's claws coming up the road. "The thieves were too caught up in their card game to notice it. But the sound kept growing louder and louder in Bess's ears, and she knew that it wasn't but a few seconds before they heard him and sprang their trap. She knew she had to do something, anything, to warn him! That's when she noticed that her feet and legs weren't tied up. She could reach out with them. And as luck would have it, the guns by the door were just barely in range. "She quickly shot her leg out, and smashed it into the guns as hard as she could. The steel barrels made quite a racket as they fell about on the stone floor. The thieves probably jumped out of their pelts at the sudden noise. Her idea was to make such a commotion that Charlemange would notice it, and realize that something was wrong. "But alas, she made a mistake. One of the guns hit the edge of the stove, and the weapon fired! Right into her breast and straight through her heart!" All the cubs jumped at his sudden exclamation. Rogueston ignored the youngest roasting a marshmallow as he fervently continued the story. "Yes, she had made a racket all right! But at the cost of her own life. Charlemange stopped in his tracks at the sound of the gunshot. "All the thieves cursed at their bad luck, grabbed what weapons they could, and poured out the back door of the inn. They left poor Bess there in the kitchen; left her to die all alone. "When Charlemange saw the cutthroats coming at him from around the corner, he knew that Bess was in trouble. He drew his sword while all the murderers pointed their muskets at him. They fired! And poor Charlemange was mortally wounded. They shot him in the chest, just missing his heart. And they shot his dragon as well, which wasn't too smart a thing to do. "As you know, dragons flame when they are angry. Well, being shot sure angered this dragon! He reached down into his deepest recesses, and breathed out a fire onto those bastards the likes of which has never been seen! Not even in the deepest hottest parts of hell!" Rogueston had their full attention now, and they leaned forward, hanging on to every word and syllable. He continued, playing it up and getting more and more animated. "All 8 thieves died in an instant, burned beyond belief. But the flames also set the building on fire, and Charlemange knew that Bess was inside. Summoning the last of his dying strength, he forced himself through the burning brush, and into the inn, ignoring the rapidly spreading flames. There, he found Bess, already dead. "Oh, but the mournful cry he let out my cubs!" he shouted. "He screamed and he cried for Bess, his valiant steed, and for himself. He howled in agony, over and over until the flames finally took him and ended his suffering!" Rogueston looked over all the frightened faces as he relaxed a bit, chewing on his spice stick once more. "And that, " he softly continued settling down onto his log once more. "Is why this ruin is haunted. It is haunted by the spirits of Bess, her lover, and his dragon. It is said, that on quiet nights like this one, you can hear him cry out in the darkness. And that sometimes, if you are really unlucky, the spirit of the dragon will come and spew forth fire again, trying to save its master." The eldest sat on the end of the log, trembling slightly. "You... You don't really believe that their ghosts come back to haunt here, do you?" he stammered. But before Rogueston could reply, there was a sudden flash and a whoosh. A giant fireball had erupted in the middle of the campfire, and sped upwards into the sky! The youngest cub who'd been closest while roasting a marshmallow fell backwards onto the ground. Sheer panic broke out. The cubs screamed out in terror, jumped off the log, and ran every which way into the woods. The one laying on the ground appeared to have fainted from the fright. Rogueston chuckled as he listened to their panic- stricken voices calling out in the night. Their voices carried their terror for miles as they desperately crashed through the thick brush, trying to escape. Rogueston waited for their voices to quiet down, then stood up and walked over to the unconcious cub and took the roasted marshmallow off his stick. "Okay Ruiz." He called out, popping the gooey treat into his muzzle. "You can come out of hiding now." A few seconds later, another coyote came around the edge of the ruined wall, and walked up to the campsite. "That was the funniest thing I ever did see." The elderly white-haired coyote laughed as he stepped up to Rogueston. "Did you see their faces? And take a sniff; one of them soiled his britches, I'm sure of it." "Yes, it _was_ a good gag all right. But I thought you were just going to start screaming in the dark to scare the cubs. I wasn't expecting that fireball. I almost peed in my _own_ pants when that thing went off. How'd you do that anyway?" Ruiz's smile faded from his muzzle. "I didn't get to scream," He quietly said. "because the fireball went off first. I thought... I thought YOU did the fireball bit." Rogueston shook his head, and frowned. "I didn't make it. I wouldn't know how." "Me neither. So, if you didn't make the fireball, and I didn't do it, then who did?" They stared at each other for exactly one heartbeat before screaming and charging into the woods themselves. The other cubs, now lost in the darkness, began crying again at hearing their packmaster's terrified voice screaming out that the dragon was real and was out to get them! Their voices shrieked out in the night, moving around and calling out their mommys for about 10 more minutes before the youngest coyote opened his eyes again. He sat up, and stared into the woods behind him. And he smiled. "Heh. Nice story Packmaster." He snickered, rising to his feet. "But I read all about it last year in the library. When I heard where we were spending the night, I figured you'd pull something like this. And when Ruiz didn't join us at the campfire, I knew the game was afoot. Like the book of Guile says; 'When you know your opponents plan, it becomes a trap for them.' "As for making the fireball, it's amazing what happens when you throw one of these cheap, disposable plastic lighters into a campfire. I'm surprised nobody saw me do it; but then, everyone was caught up in your story." He stepped purposely to where the packmaster had been sitting, and reached down for the bag of marshmallows. "Looks like everyone ran away." He laughed. "Oh well. More marshmallows for me then." He then took out a marshmallow, and threw it next to the wall for any spirits who might be living there before reaching in for his own.