Red Wolf

by Rachel Vincent

  Madame Paget turned back to Grainger. “If you see my husband, will you tell him what’s happened? I believe he’s still repairing the church roof.”

  “I certainly will. Adele, may I see you home?” Grainger asked, and I did not miss the smile the two ladies exchanged behind his back.

  Grainger escorted me down the long side of the village square, but he didn’t say a word until we got to my cottage door. “So, will I see you tonight at the ceremony?”

  “You will. I’ll be the one in the red cloak,” I teased.

  His gaze swept the full length of my body, setting my pulse racing, even though my cloak hid most of me—not to mention my new hatchet—from his sight. “It looks beautiful on you.” He gave me a dazzling smile, as a lock of pale hair fell over his forehead. Then he turned and headed off through the village square.

  I took a deep breath to slow my racing heart before I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  My mother let out a sob the moment she saw me. “Adele!” She dropped the knife she’d been using to slice an apple. “I was so worried—” Her jaw snapped shut as she glanced at my sister, who sat in front of our hearth darning a woolen stocking. “But you’re okay? The delivery went . . . well?”

  “It was a bit of an adventure,” I admitted. “I broke the lantern. And I dropped my basket and ruined Gran’s bread.”

  “Well, aren’t you a clumsy clod?” Sofia declared, clearly delighted by the rare chance to tease me with a phrase I’d often used to describe her.

  I stuck my tongue out at her as I set my basket on the table. “But Gran sent the venison back with me anyway. And she offered to trim my cloak in white fur if I’ll replace her raisin bread next week.”

  My mother exhaled, obviously relieved. “I’m sure we can do that.”

  “Did you see any monsters?” Sofia had never been in the dark wood; Gran came to the village, occasionally, to see her. To spare her the risky trip.

  “I felt more of them than I saw,” I told her. Which was true. “But that’s only the beginning.”

  My mother’s brow rose as she picked up her knife. “Oh?”

  “I found a child in the forest on my way home.” I took off my cloak and hung it on a hook near the door; then I positioned my body to block Sofia’s view as I hung my hatchet beneath it. “A little boy, alone and naked. He hasn’t said a word. Madame Paget has fed and dressed him, but we have no idea who he is or where he came from.”

  My mother laid her knife down again, her apple tart forgotten. “You found him in the woods?” Her voice sounded oddly high-pitched. “Where?”

  “A bit off the path. But not too far from Oakvale,” I added, before she could scold me for not following directions. “A merchant wagon had been attacked nearby. I think a monster got his parents,” I added, pointedly holding her gaze. “A wolf, if I had to guess.”

  “Mon dieu. Is he all right? Was he scratched or bitten? Injured at all?” The reason for her concern was clear. If the child had been infected, he’d be as much a threat to the village as my father was.

  Would my neighbors truly burn a little boy alive? The very thought sent a chill through my bones.

  “No. We’ve examined him thoroughly, and other than some abrasions on his feet from walking barefoot in the woods, there isn’t a mark on him,” I assured her.

  “A wolf killed his parents?” Sofia had clearly forgotten about the stocking she’d been repairing. “A werewolf?”

  “Yes. Then, it seems, something even scarier got the wolf, while the child was hiding.” And though I’d meant for my words to frighten her out of going near the woods, excitement glittered in my sister’s bright green eyes.

  “You did have an adventure!” Mama wiped floury hands on her apron. “But now that you’re back, I could use your help with this tart.”

  I grabbed my own apron and tied it on to cover my dress, though baking suddenly felt like a terribly dull task after my time in the forest. I was bursting with questions for my mother, but since they couldn’t be asked in front of Sofia, they would have to wait. So I settled into the job at hand. “I’ll finish the tart while you do the pies, then, tonight, I’ll introduce you to a creature more astonishing than any monster roaming the dark wood: a child who doesn’t talk your ear off!”

  Sofia stuck her tongue out at me, and I laughed as I tugged on her braid.

  “Worry not, dear sister. I believe we’re stuck with you—wagging tongue and all!”

  Five

  We spent the last bit of daylight finishing the Laurents’ order, then as the sun set, I rebraided Sofia’s hair and brushed the flour from her dress so she could help me deliver the meat pies to the village square. My mother would be coming shortly with the raisin bread and the tart.

  “Elena!” I called as I stepped into the open, torch-lit space, one eye glued to my sister, who’d been entrusted with carrying one of the pies all on her own.

  Elena’s brown eyes widened with relief when she saw me. “Adele! I’m so glad you made it out of the woods safely! I can’t believe you went out there alone!”

  I wanted to tell her about the whitewulf, and the guardians, and the true meaning of my new red cloak. I wanted to tell her how scared I’d been, alone in the woods. That I’d almost been killed, but that I’d slayed a monster instead, and that it was likely only the first of many. I wanted to confide all the secrets and fear and excitement burning a hole in the end of my tongue and watch her eyes widen the way they had when I’d told her about the first time Grainger kissed me, and when I’d confessed, breathlessly, that I might love him. That I might soon be married to him, and that until then, I intended to sneak kisses every chance I got.

  Most of all, I wanted to tell her how worried I was that this secret new responsibility would set me down a path I never knew existed. A path at odds with the simple life I’d planned with Grainger at my side and Elena in the cottage next door.

  But I couldn’t. So I told her the only truth I could. “I may have gone into the woods alone, but I came out with a new friend.”

  “I heard! The whole village is talking about that little boy and his poor parents.”

  “I think what they’re talking about right now is your betrothal!”

  Elena smiled as she relieved me of one of the pies, but I could tell from the stiff way she held herself that she was nervous. “Over here, please, Sofia. Thank you so much for the delivery!”

  My sister beamed as she set her pie on the long table, near a whole roasted pig the butcher must have had over the fire all day. Then she scampered off to play with the other children, who were kicking around a leather-covered clay ball.

  “So, how are you?” I grabbed Elena’s hand and tugged her away from the crowd that was starting to gather. “Really?”

  Elena scanned the square until her gaze found Simon Laurent, standing next to his father, holding a wooden tankard likely full of ale. “I’m a mess. We’re to wed as soon as the river thaws. This was an idea before, but now it all feels so . . .”

  “Real?”

  “Yes. And I do like him.” Her cheeks flushed with the acknowledgment.

  “What’s not to like?” I teased her with a grin. “He’s the second-best catch in the village.”

  She finally smiled. “He’s wonderful. And I’m going to marry him, and you’re going to marry Grainger, and someday Simon will inherit the sawmill and Grainger will be head of the village watch, and our children will be best friends. Everything’s going to be just like you said it would be. Perfect.”

  “But . . .” I prompted when her smile began to fade.

  “But . . . I don’t know how to be a wife. Or a mother.”

  “Of course you do. You’ve been watching your brothers since they were little, and you help out with half the children in the village.”

  “Yes, but . . . I’ve never even been alone with Simon.” She took my hand and squeezed it so hard I could hear the bones grind together. “What if it’s different when we’re alone t
ogether? What if we don’t actually like each other, when there’s no one else around? What if I’m bad at running a household? What if I can’t give him children? What if I’m not . . . good enough?”

  “Nonsense,” I whispered, pulling her close. “Don’t let your nerves get the better of you. You’re going to be a great wife and mother, and with any luck, you’ll only be ahead of me by a few weeks. All of our plans are going to work out, Elena. All of them.”

  Being a guardian wouldn’t change that. I wouldn’t let it.

  “Starting right now.” I glanced pointedly over her shoulder, where I could see both her parents and her betrothed headed our way.

  “Everyone’s looking at me.” Elena’s hand tightened around mine again, and I realized that she was just as nervous about taking this step into adulthood here in the village square as I’d been out in the dark wood, all alone.

  We each had our own fears to face.

  “Take a deep breath,” I ordered softly. “Do you want to marry Simon Laurent?”

  “I do.” She snuck another peek at him, then she gave me a firm nod and a shy smile. “And he is rather attractive, isn’t he?”

  My own smile grew. “Yes, he is. And today is just a promise, right? A vow to make another vow later. You can do that. You can say the words,” I assured her. “Then we can dance and eat all this food.”

  “Okay.” Elena took a deep breath. Then she turned, just as her father called her name.

  I watched Sofia play while the Laurents and the Rousseaus spoke in a private huddle. While the other villagers set out food and gossiped in small clusters. This moment was the beginning of everything I’d ever dreamed of for Elena, and everything I hoped to soon have for myself. Yet suddenly I felt . . . apart from it all.

  I found my mind wandering back to the dark wood. To the feel of the wind in my fur and the earth beneath my paws. To that moment of triumph and relief, when I’d stepped out of the forest with a helpless little boy safe at my side.

  How had my mother ever managed to keep a secret this big? Gran said that guardians were monsters, but surely we didn’t have to be. Helping that little boy hadn’t felt monstrous. Killing the whitewulf hadn’t felt monstrous. It had felt . . . exhilarating.

  How could baking bread, darning stockings, and chopping wood ever be satisfying work again, after the excitement of braving the dark wood? Of slaying a werewolf?

  Grainger was the key. Domestic work would be satisfying, with him at my side. With our children crawling around at my feet. Mama was both a mother and a guardian, and I could be too—once I convinced my mother that Grainger and I belonged together.

  After all, my destiny as a guardian aligned perfectly with his purpose as a member of the village watch. We both wanted to protect our friends and neighbors. Once he understood that, I had no doubt that he would accept my true nature and protect my secret.

  Shortly after my mother arrived with the rest of the baked goods, Monsieur Laurent asked everyone to gather in front of the church, where Simon and Elena stood side by side before the beautifully carved front door, firelight flickering on their faces. Simon, standing straight and tall, vowed that he would soon take Elena in holy matrimony. Elena smiled bashfully as she repeated his words so softly that her mother had to motion for her to speak up, beaming brightly at her from the front of the congregation.

  The ceremony was brief, but public, so that the entire village could stand witness to the fact that the Laurents and the Rousseaus had come to an agreement. That their children would be wed after the thaw, when the marchet could be paid to Baron Carre to secure his permission for the marriage.

  After the ceremony, the potter brought out his lute and the feast began. Ale flowed. Villagers danced. There hadn’t been an occasion to celebrate in Oakvale since the freeze, and most people cared less about why we were celebrating than about the fact that we were celebrating—much to Elena’s relief. She did not relish attention.

  Sofia and I each took a helping from one of the meat pies—a rare extravagance, even for a baker’s child—and claimed spots around one of the fire pits in the square. Elena was busy accepting congratulations, along with her parents, but as soon as Sofia got up to play with the other children, Grainger sat next to me, still wearing his leather cloak, his sword hanging at an angle.

  He looked dashing in the glow from the blaze, and as always, his attention made me feel conspicuous and special.

  “The meat pie was delicious.” He leaned in as he whispered, and the warmth in my cheeks had nothing to do with the fire pit.

  “My mother made those, but I baked the apple tart. Why don’t you try some, so you can tell me how good it is?”

  “I would, but I’m afraid of abandoning my seat to the competition.”

  “Competition?”

  “Don’t look now, but Lucas and Noah Thayer are watching you.”

  A chill washed over me. “They are not.”

  They were, of course. But their attention felt nothing like Grainger’s.

  A month before, on the way home from a delivery, I’d found myself drawn toward the dark wood—an impulse that now made more sense—where I’d found Lucas and Noah chopping down trees at the edge of the forest. While many of my neighbors whispered about the redheaded Duval women and their odd tendency to outlive their men, the Thayers had always been more open in their suspicion about my family. So I started to hurry past them. But then Noah stepped into my path, his ax propped on one broad shoulder. I could smell ale on his breath.

  He pushed my hood back and grabbed a lock of my hair, then he looked right down into my eyes and said that red hair and freckles were surely a sign of beastly carnal desires.

  Lucas dropped his ax, his eyes glazed from the ale, and said that maybe he and Noah should test my “proclivities” so they could expose me, afterward, as a harlot. To cleanse Oakvale of the stain I put upon it.

  I slapped Noah’s hand away and fled all the way into the village.

  I’d heard similar, if subtler, opinions from a few others—half of Oakvale seemed to think that my father’s fate meant my family was cursed by the devil—but Grainger didn’t see me like that. He’d always made me feel cared for and protected.

  “They are watching,” he insisted with a glance across the fire pit at Lucas and Noah. “They’re always watching you.”

  “How would you know that, unless you’re always watching them?” I teased, doing my best to ignore the Thayer boys.

  Grainger laughed. “I am very aware of my competition.”

  “They are not your competition. They’re horrible, and they say vile things.”

  He dismissed my loathing with a quiet smile. “They’re teasing the most beautiful woman in Oakvale to get her attention, but they’ll give up, once we’re wed.” His smile faded, and I found just a hint of doubt in the line of his brow. “Did you speak to your mother?”

  “I haven’t had a chance, since she couldn’t come with me this afternoon.”

  Grainger sighed. “Adele, you can’t go out there alone again. It isn’t safe.”

  I smiled at his concern, because he had no way of knowing that I could see in the dark wood now. That soon I’d be able to take care of not just myself, but anyone else who had business in the forest.

  “I’m only trying to protect you,” he added, when I couldn’t think of what to say. “I won’t let anything happen to my bride-to-be. Assuming you’ll have me.” He frowned, his focus narrowing on me. “This delay . . . that is your mother’s doing, isn’t it? Because if you don’t want—”

  “No, I do want to marry you!” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and Grainger looked almost as surprised as I was by my boldness. “I do want to marry you.” I said it softer that time, as I reluctantly slid my hand from his warm, calloused grip, before people could start to talk. “But all my mother has said on the subject so far is that the time isn’t right. That we should wait for the thaw.” Though now I understood that the timing wasn’t her true objection. And
that if I wanted to marry Grainger, I would have to convince her that we could trust him with our secret. That despite his position in the watch, he would never have us burned as witches.

  “I’ve been making preparations,” Grainger said. “I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself, since your mother has yet to agree to the union, but I can’t seem to help it.” His gaze captured mine, his blue eyes aglow with anticipation. “My thoughts are consumed with the day I can finally call you wife.”

  My heart thudded, deep in my chest. “What preparations?”

  “My father has given me a parcel of land from what Baron Carre bestowed on him.”

  Monsieur Colbert had saved the local lord’s ten-year-old son last winter, when he and a few other men from the village watch were escorting the baron and his family through the dark wood, on their way out of Oakvale for the season. Their wagon lost a wheel, and during the repair, the child had wandered from the path. When they heard him screaming, Monsieur Colbert ran off into the forest just in time to fight back a werewolf—a whitewulf, though he didn’t know the term—with his sword and his lamp.

  Knowing what I know now, I suspect my grandmother was working from the shadows, likely protecting the baron and his family from another monster they would never even know about. Yet Monsieur Colbert was the only one who could take credit for the effort.

  In gratitude, the baron had granted Grainger’s father a bit of land on the edge of the village.

  “When the thaw comes, I will start building our cottage. It’s a bit of a walk to the bakery, but—”

  “I don’t care about the distance.” Nor did I care about the size of the cottage or the location of the land. I cared about Grainger’s smile. About the way I had his whole focus when he met my gaze. “I’ll talk to my mother again.”

  “What is her objection? I hope she has no reason to believe I wouldn’t love you. That I couldn’t take care of you. I—”

  “That’s not it. It isn’t you she objects to, I swear it.”

  “Perhaps her objection is the institution of marriage itself.” Grainger nodded toward the other side of the square, not far from my home, where my mother was attempting to preserve a proper distance between herself and Monsieur Martel, the blacksmith, who’d been trying to tempt her into matrimony since his wife had died in childbirth three summers before.