CHAPTER 16
“AND THAT’S THE LAST chicken heart.” A small oval piece of flesh rimmed with white fat dropped into Lenore’s outstretched hand. The burden of the night’s toil lifted from her shoulders, unwinding the tension in her tired muscles.
“It’s all done!” Lenore was almost ready to dance with the organ in hand.
Slimy residue clung to both her hands, and she wiped her free one against the dark leather apron protecting her dress.
She brought the heart closer to her face, gazing at it as if it were a finely carved jewel itself.
The small organ was squishy to the touch, and delicately fragile in her palm.
It beckoned her to eat it—her mouth instinctively hung open.
“Go ahead and eat it if you want,” Fia said with a smirk. “Sounds like you need it.”
“I wouldn’t eat this raw!” Lenore replied, aghast. It was tempting to do so, hungry as she was, but she wasn’t ready to cross that bridge yet. “I still would like to imagine it grilled and cooked with garlic and onions,” she added quietly.
“Nothing’s better than eating it fresh off the spot,” Fia said.
“But if you aren’t gonna eat it, toss that in with the rest and we can haul these to the cooler.
” She dropped her towel onto the counter among scattered feathers and chopped-off chicken toes.
In one swift motion, she hoisted two heavy crates of poultry as if they weighed nothing.
After stowing the heart away, Lenore glanced at the full crate by her station.
A mound of pale poultry awaited her. Doubt etched itself into her features as she bent her knees slightly and gripped the wooden slots.
She sucked in a breath, bracing herself.
The crate fought her like a magnet to the ground, yet it felt unexpectedly lighter than she had imagined it to be.
“Heavy?” Fia asked, moving across the stony ground with her two crates effortlessly.
Lenore grunted when she took a few steps forward. “It’s... it’s doable,” she said. “I didn’t think I could even lift this.”
“Looks like it’s your werewolf side kickin’ in,” Fia noted.
“You must’ve been one delicate thing. Sooner or later you’ll be able to start tracking scents in the air or seeing better at night too.
” She swung her head to the right, gesturing to Lenore to follow behind.
Their boots thudded rhythmically across the dirt-streaked stone, the occasional crisp leaf crunching underneath their heels.
Weathered stone transitioned into sturdy planks of wood, marked with aged scuffs in their swirling grain. The earthy scent of timber was spiced with hints of old blood.
Fia led them through open archways, exposing an abundance of preserved meat.
Sausage chains hung from the ceiling, alongside giant hanging legs.
Spices and herbs thickened the air in a savory symphony of smells.
Lenore flinched as they passed by whole Ragnaboars tucked into shallow boxes, their eyeless snouts hovering above the walls.
Their glazed, crispy skin was reddish brown, each body chopped into pieces whilst the head remained intact.
“That animal,” Lenore began, gritting her teeth against the weight of the box. “Is that how you eat those here?”
Fia’s eyes darted toward the side without so much as a second glance. “Wild Ragnaboars? They’re popular for parties, especially with dwarves,” she replied. “Bet that’s where the order came from.”
“Order? Then that means all this meat isn’t only for the pack?”
“No, the majority of meat is sold from the quota. Anyone with any decent taste buds should know purchasing meat from werewolves is the best option.”
Amid the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, a thoughtful look crossed Lenore’s face. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You were from one of those big settlements, yeah? I wouldn’t expect you or many others to go contacting a werewolf for your shopping.” Fia chuckled. “Save your breath, wolfling. We’re nearly there.”
The conversation had been a welcome distraction. Lenore opened her mouth to deny her exhaustion, but the words died on her tongue. Instead, she uttered a resigned grunt.
Fia halted before a heavy door. Carved runes adorned the edges of the wooden frame, an elegant flair in every etching. At the center, a shimmering glass panel revealed a glimpse of a frosted chamber.
“You can—” Fia’s words were cut short by a loud slam. She turned back, eyebrow raised, to find Lenore crouched behind the dropped crate. Her hands clutched the wooden edge, her chest heaving.
“I was going to say you can drop it, but looks like you beat me to it.”
“Mm,” Lenore grunted. With the back of her wrist, she wiped at her forehead, freeing her bangs from the sticky sweat. Fia set her own crates down with a far lighter thud.
“You’re beat,” Fia said. “Get going. I know you got cleaning duty after this.”
A long breath was exhaled. The temptation to abandon the heavy load whispered sweetly to Lenore’s heart.
But after a moment, she looked up. “I’m seeing this through to the end.
” Stubborn resolve flickered through her eyes, inciting her to pull herself up from the ground.
“My body already feels like it’s dying, anyway.
I might as well at least get this box in there. ”
“Hm.” Fia eyed her with amusement. “That so? You know, I heard you were so tired last night that Edmund had to carry you into our pack’s territory.”
Lenore’s cheeks flushed deep red. “That—it’s different!” she spluttered, her hands waving erratically. “It’s different from carrying a box into a cooler only a few feet away!” Avoiding the old woman’s gaze, she fumbled to re-grip the crate.
“S’pose you’re right on that.” Fia grabbed the handle and pulled. The door swung open, releasing a cold gust of air that gnawed at their skin. Despite the chill, the temperature was pleasant against the heat of Lenore’s face, and the adrenaline jumpstarted her last lift.
They stepped into the frosted chamber. Through gritted teeth, Lenore followed Fia past organized rows of produce. As soon as Fia signaled, Lenore let the crate slam onto the polished stone. A few chickens tumbled out, plopping onto the floor.
“Never thought I’d see the day where a werewolf would struggle to haul a box,” Fia said, crossing her arms. “Not sure if I should be entertained or horrified.”
“Well,” Lenore muttered, visible puffs of air clouding her mouth. “I’m sure it’s only the first of many surprises you’ll get to see from me.”
“I’m sure it is.” Fia said. “I just hope your tea-serving skills will be one of the good ones.”
Lenore’s head jerked up, her lips slightly agape. “So you’re accepting my invitation then? Really?”
“Moon’s crescent, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is. It’s just tea, wolfling.” She rolled her eyes at Lenore’s beaming face. “I’m already gonna change my mind.”
“Oh no, wait—”
“I’ll see you in a week’s time. I’d say earlier, but even an old wolf like me has too much work to do.”
“That’s fine! What kind of tea do you like? I can make something similar! Or buy it?” Excitement spilled from Lenore’s voice, softening Fia’s gaze.
“Surprise me.” A ghost of a smile crossed Fia’s face before vanishing. “I gave my answer, now go on and get outta this icebox. I’ll go and fetch the rest of the organs.”
Lenore nodded. “Alright then,” she said. “Thank you, Astra.”
A dismissive flick of the wrist was Fia’s response. Lenore’s smile only grew wider before she ducked her head down in one last appreciative gesture. Turning on her heel, she departed and left behind the cool enclosure.
The hustle and bustle of the night was hard to ignore. Even after a couple of hours cleaning everything down, howls and barks constantly hummed through the windows.
Lenore was alone now. With nothing else to do but clean the butchery, she scrubbed away until stains of red diluted into pink and disappeared. She took a moment to admire the reward of her efforts. Gleaming knives and pristine surfaces sparkled around her.
The silence inside was deafening once Lenore shut off the water.
It was its own bubble, isolated away from the merrymaking outside.
But for once, in all of today, she finally had time to herself.
Exhaustion overpowered her curiosity to join the others, and she was more interested in the comfort of her bed.
A flicker of anxiety passed over her—unbidden and sharp.
Would someone like her be well-received in the first place?
But aside from the quiet glances and whispers, she was met with kindness in passing—and it helped chase her worries away.
She pulled the apron strap over her head.
The satisfaction of a completed day’s work softened the edges of her solitude.
At least she felt she had been of some use.
As she moved to toss her apron into the soiled bin, she saw Ryker and Brynn’s aprons haphazardly thrown on the floor. A light chuckle left her, remembering how hastily they left when Fia and she departed to the back.
Lenore bent over to tidy them. She tossed Brynn’s in, then grabbed Ryker’s.
Something black fluttered downward.
A black feather.
She squatted, gingerly picking it up. It was large, far too big to be a crow’s.
A raven. Lenore tensed. A sharp gasp escaped her as she realized dried blood clung to the tips. Her heart quickened. She looked around.
There was no one but her.
After a moment, she shook herself out of her stupor.
“No, no,” she whispered. “You don’t know anything. Jumping to conclusions is only going to make you paranoid. He probably hunted something, and a raven got greedy for the meat.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Look at you, talking to yourself again. Skies above, get a hold of yourself.”
Lenore swiftly shoved the feather back into Ryker’s apron and threw it into the bin. Rinsing her hands off, she loosened her ponytail, letting her silver waves fall over her back.
Brushing off her dress, she murmured, “Home. Time to go home.”
Lenore was lost. Completely, utterly lost.
Every tree looked the same. The lanterns, though she appreciated their warm light, did little to help her navigate her way home. She was sure she had circled the same area multiple times now.
Twigs snapped under her feet, the sharp sound making her jump as bushes nearby rustled.
Lenore leaned back against a tree trunk she had grabbed in a bolt of panic.
At least the butcher shop guarded her within its walls and weaponry.
Out here, she was a walking target. The trees were painted in darkness, and terrors that began to emerge in her mind enshrouded her.
Distant melodies from the party helped remind her she wasn’t completely alone.
I’ve heard that werewolves stay awake for most of the night. Especially when the full moon is out. She glanced upward at the sliver in the sky. The full moon was eleven days away.
Something clicked in. She lifted a hand to her mouth.
“Wait a minute. I’m a werewolf. I can turn into a wolf.” She slammed her face into her hands. “Oh skies above, I’m such an idiot.”
The shift was instantaneous—a stark difference from this morning, when she’d struggled with herself just to change at all. The trees grew taller as she shrank. Warmth from her silver coat deflected the night’s chill. The hazy darkness cleared—her blue eyes catching the flight of a distant moth.
But then the cacophony of scents came in, clogging her nose with thousands of odors that she could barely maneuver through.
At best, she was able to single out small prey from the hunting practice earlier, but her human side struggled with this newfound ability.
Trying to stick to something she thought was familiar had led her deeper in the woods.
The lights of Lunavie’s settlement vanished.
If she wasn’t so frustrated, she would’ve been terrified. She fell to her side, giving up in dramatic fashion. The grass tickled her ear. She sulked, eyes narrowed.
Is this what it feels like to be a baby again? Having to figure everything out from scratch—
Small, squeaky cries jolted her back onto her paws. Hackles raised, Lenore stared out into the forest’s depths. Her widened eyes darted back and forth. Through the hammering ring of her heart in her ears, she could hear the cries continue—not quite animal, but not human.
“What—” the word escaped under her breath. Her paws trembled. The fear of the unknown screamed for her to flee. Against all her instincts, she ran toward the source.
Through a tangle of roots, she saw a wavering glow. Lenore crept closer.
Rounding past a tree, she stumbled in shock.
It was a light sprite, a creature of pure threads of light. Two ravens surrounded the tiny being, which was trapped within the tree roots. The ravens took turns pecking it. Golden blood spewed from the helpless sprite, its cries beginning to weaken. The light sputtered.
A sharp snarl tore out of Lenore, shocking herself from the primal sound. The ravens jerked away, but they showed no fear as their eyes locked onto her.
Their eyes were entirely ghostly white—like moons against the black abyss of their bodies. Lenore barely had time to register their abnormality before they were on her, talons viciously swiping at her eyes and muzzle. Furious caws thundered in her ears.
She dodged their talons, but the buffet of their wings nearly threw her back.
Wind whistled across the ends of her fur as she ducked down, narrowly escaping another attack.
The moment one raven slowed, she leapt up, knocking it hard against the tree.
As it stirred, the other raven dove straight toward the light sprite, aiming for a killing blow.
“STOP!” Lenore’s voice boomed. She bolted forward.
A horrible crunch followed. Lenore hovered over the corpse, her mouth bloodied. She locked eyes with the last raven and lunged again.
A dying cry, then silence. Black wings drooped to the ground.
Slowly, Lenore raised her head, breath heavy. Splotches of red stained her silver fur.
She had done it. She had killed.