Fable Beard Co's - Dr. Wolf - The Stalker - Episode 1

Fable Beard Co's - Dr. Wolf - The Stalker - Episode 1

Dr. Wolf walks into the light with both his hands behind his back. It is clad with a leather jacket and he paces around, swinging behind him a slim and long walking stick. There was nothing that could be more visible about Dr. Wolf, than the golden yellow shawl that was wrapped around his cheeks, under his chin, and below it. The sun blended its yellow rays on Dr. Wolf’s golden beard, and it glittered every single strand, that one would believe they all stood, although so many, distinct from themselves, not touching one another. He had heard a tender sound in the woods. He had gone on a manhunt twice for the constable, so he was so sure what the difference was between a passing animal and a stalking human. Dr. Wolf stood on the same spot and grinned ear to ear. As he grinned, wider and wider, his beard flocked together with every move his mouth made. His attention had been at the spot, where the evening sun lushly flavored his golden beard. Perhaps, been this stalker had been caught by such an uncommon sight in these rough woods. The stalker himself had stood still, not for the fear of being caught, but at the sight of Dr. Wolf’s beard, which made him stand so still like he had seen a holy apparition. 

“I hear you right in there.” Dr. Wolf declared.

The stalked had now been called from his shock at the sight of Dr’s beard. Standing still, blending with every wood that stood between him and the Dr, he watched even the sound of his own breath, to make sure the Dr had no idea where he stood. Assessing Dr. Wolf, the stalker wondered what the worst could be. The Dr had not a sword or gun in hand, he looked totally harmless.

“There!” Dr. Wolf declared again, pointing to the exact three, behind which the talker hid.

Emboldened, the stalker calmly walks out of his hiding spot, smiling also, ear to ear. Then like magic he had never seen before the time, Dr. Wolf points his walking stick at the stalker. He jerks it while holding firmly to the handle of the walking stick. It was so fast no one could have dared to stop him. Just as soon as he had done that, the thinnest blade, possibly, yet very long, proceeded from the end of the walking stick. Alas, Dr. Wolf had been holding on to a sword, and not a walking stick. In the same swiftness as well, the stalker pulls out a sword, unsheathing it from the sheath it was buried in, behind him. He points the thin sword at Dr. Wolf, clanging his sword against the Dr’s. The stalker smiles.

“What is your mission in this place?” Dr. Wolf asks with a firm tone.

“To rid the land of all law-keeping folks like you and the constable.” The stalker replies.

“Pathetic!” Dr. Wolf replied with disgust.

A skirmish breaks out and they begin with the clanging of their swords against one another. It was a duel of skills and swiftness. Dr. Wolf had fought better men in the past, there was no saying, but this stalker had been a brilliant fighter. At a time, the stalker had slung his sword, impressively fast towards the angle of the Dr, with the aim of slicing the vein that stayed at the back of his leg. The Dr, however, had been the more skillful, and even faster. In the twinkling of an eye, Dr throws himself in the aim, flipping backward and over the stalker. As the stalker looks up above to see the Dr, while he was in the air, the first thing that had caught his attention had been those eyes of Dr. Wolf. They shone like black pebbles, or like black beads. However, their glory had been covered by the flagging beards of Dr. Wolf. Those beautiful hair strands, in their thousands, and so neatly brushed in the air, waving like a flag of freedom and victory in that slow motion. For the few seconds that the Dr had been in the air, and upside down, the beards had obeyed the call of bending neatly, and in their ranks, according to the way the Dr moved per time.

When Dr. Wolf’s legs hit the ground, the stalker turned behind to get a quick sight of the Dr before he had made any move. Lucky he, the Dr had not been in a faster hurry than he was. As he looked back to the Dr, there he was, calm, with his pointy sword, and with every strand of his beards in their smooth line-up as though they had not just flung in the air like a flag of nations. The stalker was the first to make his move. He charged towards the Dr with his sword yet again, and with every strike he made, the Dr was quick enough and good enough to award him a good counter-attack with his own sword.

Then, the stalker got too desperate. In a move he would wish he had not made, he flung his sword to far above the Dr’s shoulder. The Dr slouched as far as he could. The stalker had put in so much energy to it, that missing the hit had made him hit his chest against the Dr’s and lose his sword. Because he could not manage a flip like the Dr’s, he tried to move fast towards his sword but it had been to no avail. Dr. Wolf’s sword had already been on his throat.

“Make the last request boy, and make it quick.” The Dr asked.

“Are you some kind of Samson, man? Every strength of yours seems to be locked in those golden beards?” The stalker said.

“You have a few more seconds to make a request boy.” Dr. Wolf said.

“Give me those golden beards man, and you and your constable have my sword to fight your cause” the stalker replied.

Dr. Wolf smiled ear to ear and gave one more sight of the glorious rising of his beard.

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