I. That Devil Scourge

Kenny's father burst into the kitchen, panting heavily. His ears twitched. It was suppertime, and Kenny's mom was making her family's favorite, corn chowder. The soup's heavy aroma swirled about as the farmer moved through the room.

"Pack all yer things! We're outta here! We're moving!" Kenny's dad hollered. He was a scraggly, hairy fellow wearing a wide-brimmed hat, and he was trying to catch his breath, as if he'd been running.

"Moving? Not now, mister," Kenny's mom eplied. "The corn's not boiling yet, the broth isn't quite right, and I still have to sew the patches on Kenneth's trousers for school tomorrow."

Kenny's dad paused, walked to the stove, dipped a finger in the pot, and agreed it still wasn't quite right.

"Get your dirty paws out of my chowder! Wash your hands, have some milk, and tell me what's got you so riled up." She ground a little pepper into her broth. Unlike Kenny's father, she was soft, round, huggable, and seemed to always be adorned in an apron with a spoon in hand.

Kenny's dad did as he was told. Then he stroked his ears and started:"This afternoon my eyes saw something I wish they'd never seen. I went to shepherd home the flock up on top of Shepard's Hill, where they had been a-grazin' all day. As soon as I get up there, I sees the sheep all huddled and quiet on the far side of the hilltop, and I think to meself, what in the world has got 'em so spooked? So I wander over to the other side of the hill, you know where them rocks and boulders are?"

"Mm-hmm. Here, taste this. Better?"

"Yes, much better. So I -- "

"Hold on, dear. Kenneth! Get out here and set the table."

The wooden floorboards creaked as Kenny shuffled into the kitchen, his head buried in his book. He was reading a story about a giant, written by a man named Oscar. Without looking up, the small, skinny lad opened the cupboard and grabbed plates to place on the table.

"Not plates -- bowls, Kenneth. I told you earlier we're having corn chowder tonight. Get your head out of the clouds, put the book down for a minute, and set the table properly." His mom snatched the book out of his paws and set it on the counter.

The wooden counter was dinged, scratched, and stained from years of use. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, right above where Kenny's mom was cooking. She reached over and opened one of the numerous round windows to allow the cool country air into the kitchen.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of my story?" Kenny's dad whimpered through his milk mustache.

"Of course, dear. Of course. What did you find in the rocks?" his mom said as she tasted the soup.

"So there I am, climbin' up on them big rocks and boulders. All the while I'm thinkin' there must be a wolf, a lion, or a bear hiding in there. Remember I said I heard those weird whooshin' sounds coming from the hill last week?"

Kenny folded the napkins and placed them around the banged-up wooden table. "I remember that," he said. "I thought -- "

"Hold on, son, hold on," his dad interrupted, waving his hands about. "So I make some noises of my own to see if I can spook it off. And that's when I saw it."

Kenny stopped setting the table and looked up. "Saw what?" The gears in the lad's brain began to turn. He realized his father's tale involved some sort of encounter with a carnivorous animal. Kenny figured he could determine just what his dad had seen based on the description. A lion was out of the question -- they were too far east for lions. Wolves usually traveled in packs and were rarely seen in these parts, but bears did prefer rocky outcroppings and caves....

"Well, first I smell something burning. Not wood, but something smokylike....