A Tale of Wolves

"Wolves?"

"Yes, sir. And Ravens," said Marshal Benjamin. "And a handful of the men swear that a huge black panther fought alongside the wolves."

"A panther?" asked the king.

"A few have the wounds to prove it. Claw and bite marks."

The king looked at him, incredulous. "A big black cougar fought alongside wolves."

"Likely a jaguar," said the marshal. "They’re larger, and I’ve never heard of a black cougar."

"Did they kill anyone?"

"No," said the marshal. "A few of the men might lose an arm or leg, but no one has died so far."

The king stared at him. "This is intolerable. I need that timber."

"Understood, sir," said the marshal. "I’ll send a rider to Dalton. I’ll tell the general to take a company from there and deal with whatever beasts of the field they encounter."

"Good," said the king. "Go on."

The marshal left. The king went out on his balcony and stared to the east. What sorcery is this?