Chapter 2
Chapter Two
EVANTHE
The clanging of a loud bell rouses me from sleep. I do not know what it signifies, and fear clutches me, driving away the remnants of a cozy dream. I push the covers aside, thrust my feet into boots, and snatch up my dressing gown from the end of the bed.
I find Mistress Nina in the kitchen, her hair sticking out of her night cap and her face pale in the lamplight. A great crashing sound comes from the direction of the street out the front of the building.
“Quickly, Evanthe. Out the back,” she says. “Head for the garrison. Follow the other townsfolk. It is where we all go when the bell sounds.”
“Is it the wolves?” I say.
“No, dear. That is the raider bell.” She makes the sign of the Goddess. “Let us pray the wolves come, for they punish any raiders foolish enough to attack a town under their ward. Now, go quickly. Straight there, mind.”
I pause once outside and enclosed in the darkness of the cobbled alleyway.
The only light to pierce the gloom comes from a few upper windows here and there, where, in their rush, people have left lamps on.
The air is cold with the edge of frost, and a sharp breeze tugs at my dressing gown.
Screams rise—a strange cacophony that warns of danger approaching.
My eyes feel too wide, stretched, and my thoughts refuse to settle into anything coherent. I look behind me for Mistress Nina’s reassuring presence.
Only, she has turned the other way.
“Where are you going?!” I cry.
“I need to see to something. Do not worry, I will be right behind you. Now go!”
I don’t want to leave her, but her expression is unusually stern and brooks no argument.
I do as she tells me, and start off quickly along the uneven cobblestones.
The narrow thoroughfare runs all the way along the back of the houses and shops down to the square.
Although it is yet a little way ahead, I can see where the alley ends: the square glows with a faint, steady light.
The garrison is on the other side—a promise of safety if only I can reach it.
As I hold onto that thought, a shadow drops from a low roof ahead. A man, leering, with a dagger flashing in the light that spills from a window above me. I skid to a halt, my breath catching. His blade drips a dark substance… I suspect it is blood.
“Pretty little thing,” he sneers.
Behind him, another man tosses a lantern into a nearby window.
Glass shatters, and flames flare to life.
He spins toward the noise and I use the distraction to dart around them.
An angry cry and the sound of pounding footsteps follow me into the town square where my plans to reach the garrison come undone.
I am confronted by mayhem—I look around wildly as I realize my way across the square is blocked, with our troops in their red jackets taking on the raiders, fleeing people… and bodies.
“Where’d ya think yer going, lassie?” the same sneering voice calls from behind.
I veer around one pitched battle and take the street leading south toward the church and, beyond it, the woods.
Terror clouds my mind and judgment; there is only the desire to escape the violence.
A garrison soldier cuts down a raider to my right, but I pay it no mind.
My pursuer curses then issues more lewd threats as I weave around the pockets of violence.
From behind comes a sudden snarl—one that sets the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
I glance over my shoulder even as I run, just in time to see a giant russet wolf powering toward the cutthroat chasing me.
At the last second, the wolf shifts into a horrifying werebeast and slams into his prey.
Giant clawed hands slash as massive jaws snap around the man’s neck.
Just as a scream leaves the raider’s mouth, the sound is abruptly cut off.
Eyes wide, I stumble, then manage to right myself. I turn my head, desperate to continue my frantic dash but have to backpedal frantically when I find there is a raider right in my path.
As I come to a stop, another wolf leaps from the shadows.
This one is huge, black, with flashes of silver—bared teeth already dripping blood and, it seems, an ungodly hunger for more.
A vicious snarl erupts as he transitions to a werebeast and tears into the man before me, shaking the life from him and spraying the frosty street with blood.
I am transfixed by the scene playing out before me, unable to move, even to speak. The beast lifts his bloody snout from his kill and straightens to his full, towering height. Brilliant blue eyes meet mine, and an awareness blooms within me that cuts through the terror.
It is like I can hear his steady heart beating in my chest; it calms me, slows the pounding in mine until it matches his…
Frantic shouts go up from the garrison side of the square.
His head swings toward the sound; his lip curls, and he growls.
It snaps me out of my daze. Instantly the feeling of safety deserts me; once more my heart is racing double time.
Driven by an imperative to escape the violence and the fearsome beasts, I run on.
Before I can reach its sanctuary, there is a whoosh, and one of its workshops goes up in flames. Sparks leap into the air and are carried in the wind. Someone screams.
Flinching, I veer away from this new danger. Ahead is the forest: quiet, dark—no sounds of fighting there. In my chaotic state of mind, it represents safety. Branches catch at my nightdress and dressing gown, but I keep running until my lungs and thighs burn, and I can run no more.
Panting, I drop to my knees at the base of an ancient oak.
Only now, as my panic recedes, do I take in where I am.
In the forest.
After dark.
Fresh dread settles as I realize that the charm Mistress Nina gave me—and beseeched me to wear—is back at home, tucked deep into the pocket of my dress.
I huddle, shivering, beneath a fallen bough of the old oak tree.
The bark is rough against my back. The chill air nips at my skin, laced with frost and smoke.
But it isn’t the cold that makes me tremble.
It’s the sound of screams still echoing in my mind.
When I close my eyes, I see flashes of what passed: the wild faces of raiders, their blades slick with blood; I hear again the cruel laughter of men who kill for sport.
And then came the wolves.
A sob escapes me. Poor Mistress Nina. I can only pray she reached safety, that the fires and chaos have not devoured her.
I huddle alone in the forest, shivering, not daring to venture back. My arms and legs are bloody in a few places where the branches scraped my skin as I ran, guided here by instinct and not a whit of common sense.
I cannot know whether those who have fallen in the square were raiders or innocent people from the town. The thought strikes me that, if not for the wolves, I might already be dead, or worse.
They came, just as Mistress Nina said, for Merrywood is under their ward.
I press myself deeper into the roots of the oak, too terrified to move. The night consumes me, every sound magnified, from the wind whistling through the tops of the bare trees to the faint rustle of something unseen watching from the shadows.
Should I go back?
I tell myself it must be over by now. And besides, some raiders may have fled in this direction. Even without Mistress Nina’s warnings, I know the woods are assuredly not safe.
And yet my body will not obey. All I do is shiver harder until my teeth begin to chatter. Cold seeps into my bones, and my joints grow stiff.
Something stirs beyond the trees, a presence unknown. I don’t have a sense of danger exactly, more an awareness that I am no longer alone
A flicker at the edge of my vision startles me. My eyes search the shadows. Is someone there? One of the raiders? Maybe one of the townsfolk or a soldier saw me running and has come looking for me.
Only, a good person would call out…
The forest is quiet except for the rasp of my breathing and the creak of ancient trees in the wind.
A rustle—soft and deliberate—accompanies a shape emerging between the trees.
A wolf. Black with silver flashes and a dark stain around its muzzle. Enormous. The wolf who saved me. My trembling worsens, teeth clacking furiously together.
He is not a true wolf, for no ordinary wolf would be so huge. Inside him is a man… along with a dread-inspiring werebeast.
“For all they have a human side,” Mistress Nina told me, “The wolves in these parts are wilder than most, more in tune with their animal. Although they can shift forms, they rarely do.”
The air grows heavier, charged. He steps fully into the open, moving with grace, muscles rippling beneath his fur. Mist curls around him, seeming to cling to his thick, glossy coat.
I should be afraid.
Yet something else hums beneath my skin—a pull low in my stomach, a trembling sensation that feels like recognition. His unblinking gaze pins me to the spot. It feels like he is looking inside me, and all the way to my soul.
He lowers his head, scenting the air, padding closer. A low rumble vibrates in his chest. When he nears, I smell him: earth, rain, and fresh moss. The weight of his presence anchors me to the tree. One massive paw lifts then presses into the soil beside me, landing with a weighty thud.
His breath ghosts across my right cheek, warm against the cold. There is a faint clack of claws on tree roots. Steady, he seems to say without words.
I remember the way he tore that raider apart. He could do that to me so easily.
Instead, he simply watches—pure male predator, virile and potent.
A whimper, small and helpless, escapes me. His ears twitch forward. His pupils widen. No tale could prepare me for being subject to such a gaze. How it burns hotter than any fire, permeating the cold ground and darkness with an otherworldly life and heat.
I swear I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat once more.
He edges closer still until his muzzle touches my cheek, the soft fur sticky and damp. A metallic scent tells me it has blood. His snout drags along my jaw, inhaling me. I shudder. His tongue laps, tracing my vulnerable throat, tasting my skin.
I am frozen, locked under his spell. Aware of how his body heat penetrates my flimsy nightclothes.
A low growl rises and then shifts to a deep purr. When he pulls back, his muzzle hovers over my throat and his head tilts as though listening the frantic rhythm beneath my skin.
He huffs out air against my flesh before trailing his snout along my jaw again. More confident this time—and a little proprietary—he nuzzles beneath my ear, down to the hollow of my throat. A broken sob escapes my chattering teeth as I let go of some of my tension.
The world narrows to the beast and me, my instincts telling me he is dangerous, but not dangerous to me.
He steps back a pace, releasing me from the spell. The air is colder for his leaving. His presence had sheltered me. My skin tingles still where he licked.
He turns and fades into the darkness, a shadow reclaimed by the forest.
Only when he’s gone do I draw a shaky breath again, uncertain if the feeling in my chest is terror or not.
Carnality.
That is what lives under his skin, and now it is under mine too.
For a long moment, I stay there, unable to move, a strange heat stirring low in my womb.
I need to return home.
The thought startles me into action. I’m stiff and clumsy, my legs barely working. I push to my feet and stumble forward. Gradually my pace increases until I am running. Back to Merrywood, or whatever is left of it.
When the trees thin, I stumble out of the forest and stop.
Dawn lights the sky over Merrywood. The air is full of cries, wails, and bellowed orders. Buckets pass along a line of townsfolk from the well to a burning building. I set off at a run into the fray, my destination, the little shop belonging to Mistress Nina.
Bodies lie scattered where they fell, some mangled beyond recognition, others dragged into neat rows. A few more lay covered respectfully, with people gathering in clusters, holding one another in grief.
Goddess, please let Mistress Nina be safe.
I pass the smoldering remains of a storehouse, and as I turn the corner, the dressmaker’s shop comes into view.
The tailor’s next door has been smashed and looted.
But Mistress Nina’s shop is whole and untouched.
Relief washes over me, but my steps falter as I draw near.
My eyes settle, not on the shop door, but on the narrow painted green one to the right of the display window.
My door.
It bears three deep gouges, the edges jagged and splintered.
Another deep set of gouges scores the stone step.
Yet another marks the doorframe.
The door lies slightly ajar. Heart thudding, I push it wider and step over the threshold. The air inside is cool and smells faintly of the forest. I take the stairs heedless of the danger, drawn upward until I enter my bedroom.
My blankets are rumpled, much like I left them, but a prickling awareness skitters under my skin.
Not raiders for nothing has been taken.
Scent, his scent, earthy and wild.
Yet his is not the only scent. Two more, distinct, reach my nose.
How can I possibly distinguish something so complex?
The three scores on my door…
I touch my fingers to my throat where he licked, feeling a faint tingle there.
A high, mournful howl pulls my eyes to the tiny window. The hair along my arms lifts.
My wolf.
Where does that certainty come from?
Another howl joins the first, and then another takes up the call. Beneath the place where fear should be, something darker stirs.