“What will you do with them?” asked Aein.
“Burn them. Throw them in the moat. I don’t know,” confessed Gisla. “Whatever we can do quickly.”
“Please,” said Aein. She pointed at the door to the larder. “There is a man in there. See that he is dealt with respectfully.”
Gisla looked at Aein from the corner of her eyes. Finally she said, “I will give him the respect that we are able to give any at this time.”
It was all that Aein could hope for. She rushed forward to the book on the counter and opened it up to the picture of the berries. She shoved the book over to Gisla. “These. I think it was these.”
Gisla shook her head. “There isn’t much here. Just recipes for pies and tarts. It says that it is helpful for swollen joints and gout. Nothing about preventing someone from turning into a werewolf.”
“But perhaps it is only because no one knew before me,” said Aein.
“It is a long shot,” said Gisla, closing the book with finality. “But it is the only one that we have. We should prepare you for your journey.”
They climbed back out of the kitchen. Aein began to understand why Gisla was a princess. She was able to command people just with the strength of her voice.
“Haul the bodies into the courtyard. We’ll burn them before the pestilence takes us all.”
Two servants bowed, fearful, but willing.
“I do not know if we captured all of the wolves,” said Aein. “It was only one group of people and you all were the only ones who came after us. There must be more people hidden here in the stronghold.” She did not continue on, that those innocent victims who had hid were now the creatures of their own nightmares.
Gisla pointed to two more people. “You! Scout for wolves! Let me know if you see any!” Shockingly, they obeyed. Gisla turned to Aein. “What do you need before you leave?”
Aein thought of all the dangers before her. “I need provisions. A horse. I have a few items from my room I would like to bring.”
Gisla nodded. “Can you get your things by yourself?”
Fear pounded in Aein’s heart as she looked up the steps, up to the rooms that Gisla was asking her to travel alone. But she was a warrior. She had signed on to fight and defend the stronghold and that was what she would do. “Of course. If you don’t see me in the next hour, send an armed party up.”
Gisla gripped Aein’s arm bracingly, this time the touch was welcome as these two realized how much was at stake. Gisla strode off into the courtyard, her mane of black hair flying behind her.
Aein looked up the stairs. There was no putting this off. She made her way into the garrison. The beds had been ripped to shreds. Furniture had been upended. She sat for just a moment, looking at the destruction. How quickly the world changed, she realized.
Aein went over to her footlocker and turned it over so that she could open the lid. She found her saddlebags. They were empty, waiting to be filled with food and skins of water. She took her blanket and rolled a change of clothes inside it. She removed her fancy dress armor. The bright green and yellow paint was now scarred, showing the red leather beneath. She put on her old leathers, the ones used to survive. Where she was going, she needed nothing else.
She paused, filled with a sense that she would not ever come back to this room again, that what she had here was gone and would never return. Lord Arnkell’s stronghold had fallen.
She made her way into the courtyard and a horse was waiting. There was only a single stable hand. The horse was skittish and kept trying to prance away. No doubt his nerves were frayed by all of the carnivores in the stronghold.
Gisla came in. Her sword was wet with red.
“What happened?” asked Aein.
“We found more. They had joined up into a pack. Fortunately, we were able to corral them downstairs and lock them in a cell near the other dogs. Hopefully someone will explain to them what is going on when the sun rises.”
“Thank you for the horse,” said Aein, knowing how valuable this animal was.
“The wolves don’t seem to have a taste for horseflesh. Only human flesh. The entire stable was completely untouched.”
“Really?” asked Aein, smoothing the horse’s mane and running her hands along his neck.
“I would have not believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes,” said Gisla.
Aein breathed deeply, getting one last look of the stronghold. She prayed to the gods she would see it again. “I should go.”
Gisla grabbed Aein’s shin and lifted her into the saddle. “Hurry. And hurry back. I shall look forward to eating these berries you speak of.”
Suddenly, there was the sound of baying coming from one of the doorways. Gisla’s face tensed as her fighting spirit took over. “Oh gods. The cell didn’t hold. They are coming!” Gisla slapped the horse on the rump and he took off before Aein could gather up the reins and calm him. “Run! Get out of here!” Gisla cried, chasing Aein from the courtyard.
The doors were opened for Aein as her steed flew out. She waited to hear the sound of the gates clanging down behind her, but it did not happen. She turned back. There was a single werewolf hot on her heels. She spurred her horse on. For now, her horse could run faster than any wolf. But not for long. She knew her horse would tire, and then what? She hoped that he would be able to keep pace at least until the sunset. If she could only make it to the sunset, they would be safe once again. But there were many, many hours to go, and the miles to the swamp stretched before her. She looked over her shoulder. The wolf was far behind her now, but he was coming. She knew he was coming, and nothing would stop him except the dark.
Chapter Sixteen
Aein rode all day, pausing to walk her horse for only as long as it took for him to recover, and then she pushed him again. No matter how fast they went, the wolf tracked her, a distant spot on the horizon. Never wavering, never pausing, he just continued his inexorable march, stalking her no matter how far away she tried to get.
There was no way she could possibly continue at this pace, she realized. Not if she wished to keep her horse alive to the border. And she had to keep her horse alive to the border.
What she needed was to be able to reason with the werewolf, which meant waiting for nightfall. Perhaps if she stopped now, she thought, she could wait until he turned, and then convince whomever it was to wait in that spot until she got a head start. Convince him to always stay behind as long as he was in human form for the survival of them both.
She slowed her horse and looked for a defensible position. She needed something where she would be safe and where she would not have to harm this wolf. Finally, as she entered a grove of trees, she found one that had a branch only accessible if she stood on her horse’s saddle. The trunk was straight and true. Surely the wolf would not be able to climb it to get to her this time.
She patted her horse. “I hope with all my heart that Gisla was telling the truth about the wolves’ lack of interest in you.”
She stopped the horse beneath the tree. She could not afford to lose her belongings if the horse was scared off. She could not afford to leave them on the ground for the werewolf to tear apart. So, carefully, piece by piece, she threw her saddlebag and bedroll over the branch. She reached and pulled herself up.
The wolf was upon her entirely too fast. It seemed like less than a half hour had passed, but there he was. He circled the base of the tree, jumping up the trunk to get at her.
“I am too far up,” she said to him. “So you might as well sit and wait for me to come down.”
The wolf didn’t seem to be of that mind at all. Like a rabid animal, he kept trying to get at her, again and again. His paws left huge gashes in the bark.
Aein opened up her saddlebag to see what had been packed for her. There was some hard meat and cheese. Some old bread from days before. As she pulled the items out, her fingers brushed against what felt like a pebble. She grabbed it with two fingers to throw it away, but she paused before chucking it.
She felt herself wobble on the branch. It was a dried berry. She remembered that she had gathered them and eaten them there in the swamp. She must have missed one and it had transformed from a juicy berry into the petrified lump now in her hand.
She looked down at the wolf. Could she try and feed it to him to see what happened? Would it do something? Or worse, what if it didn’t?
The wolf’s teeth were snarling and snapping at her. She held her breath, trying to feel if there was any sort of rhythm to his attack, some way of knowing where his mouth might be.
“Are you hungry, boy?” she asked. “I have a tasty treat for you, puppy.”
She held out the berry and dropped it down. The werewolf was in such a frenzied blood lust he snapped at it. It seemed to go down, she thought. She waited, wondering what was going to happen.
The change was gradual. It did not shift him from werewolf to human, but there was a change. Rather than leaping up at the trunk, he sat down on the ground and considered her. His barking and snarling stopped. His mouth opened, but this was so that his tongue could hang out and he could pant away the heat and exhaustion.
“With just one berry…” she said aloud. She sat, wondering if she dared tempt the fates. “Will you eat me if I come down?” she asked.
The werewolf cocked his head as if he was trying to comprehend the words coming out of her mouth.
Her horse came wandering over and placed his muzzle against the nose of the werewolf. He gave a dismissive snort and went back to grazing.
“Perhaps I should listen to the horse,” she said. She dropped her saddlebag and bedroll onto the ground. The werewolf sidled away, but did not lunge to attack. This felt like a good start, she thought. She wrapped her hands around the trunk of the tree and hug-slid her way down. Her feet touched the earth and she braced herself for an attack.
She stood there regarding the werewolf and the werewolf stood there regarding her.
She placed the back of her hand out to the werewolf. He stood, and then walked over, giving her a sniff, and then pushing his great, furry head beneath her fingers. Slowly, with terror still pounding in her veins, she gave him a scratch behind the ears. He repaid her kindness with a friendly lick.
“I do believe,” she said, “that I have a new traveling companion.”
Chapter Seventeen
She sat atop her horse, glancing at the werewolf which now trotted beside her as docile as one of the Lord Arnkell’s hounds. Her senses were on full alert, waiting for any sign that he might turn on her. But for now, the most he seemed interested in chasing were butterflies. He even paused to roll in the grass and sniff something in the dirt before running to catch up. Still, she did not push her horse to anything faster than a walk out of fear it might trigger a chase.
The day wore on and finally, as the sun was getting close to the horizon, Aein found one of the campgrounds she and Lars had used during their travels from the stronghold.
She walked her horse into the glade. The grass was high and would make good eating for him. She dismounted and took off his saddle, rubbing him down before letting him graze. There was the area they used as a fire pit in the middle. She would need to gather more wood before the sun went down and took all the light.
She looked at the werewolf, who was now staring up at her expectantly. “We make such strange bedfellows, you and I,” she remarked. She began walking towards the trees. The werewolf kept right at her heals, glancing in to the forest. “Do I now have my own personal watchdog?” she asked.
She filled her arms with all the thick branches she could find lying about. She made no move to acknowledge the werewolf, as if making contact with him would remind him she was something he should eat. But he just followed. When she returned to the camp and began clearing out the dirt around the pit, he came over and watched what she was doing. And then, out of nowhere, he bumped her with his gigantic body. She stepped away, trying not to let him see her fear. But then he began digging with his paws, clearing away all of the grass faster than she ever could have until there was nothing there but a circle of dirt, perfect for her to begin her fire.
She looked at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He gave a sneeze and then lay down. She kept eyeing him as she set up the tinder and the kindling. She walked over to her saddlebag to get the flint. He lifted his head from his paws to see what she was doing, and then settled back down again, closing his eyes to sleep.
She could run now, said the voice in her head. Who knew how long this friendly transformation would last? She knelt down and hit the two rocks together, creating small sparks which caught the tinder and started a small flame. She blew upon it and the kindling took. She began layering the wood upon it until a crackling fire was going.
“In the past, I used a fire to keep the animals away,” she said to the werewolf. He had fallen onto his side, soaking up the heat. “I seem to be doing something wrong.” Aein grabbed her bedroll from the back of her horse. Once again, the moment she stepped away from the werewolf, his head came up, as if checking to make sure all was well. She came back with the roll and placed it upon the thick grass, chucking aside a few rocks and twigs that would make for an unpleasant sleep. As soon as he saw her settling in, he lowered his head to the ground and began snoring.
His snoring was interrupted, however, by the sun going down. Instead of writhing in agony, his eyes merely opened and he sat up. Within moments, the transformation was done without pain she had seen in every animal. He was staring at his hands in disbelief.
“Finn…” she whispered.
He looked up at her. “I remember,” he said.
She ran over to him and hugged him tightly, pressing her body against him fully. He was strong and real and here with her. She was not alone.
He stroked her back and whispered, “I remember. I remember everything about this day after that moment I had you up that tree. There was a taste in my mouth, and then I remembered everything.”
“I had a berry,” she said, parting from him. “I fed you the berry and it changed you.”
The smile started in his eyes, but slowly spread across his face. Then laughter and hope bubbled up inside of him. “There is a cure!”
She held up her hands. “I don’t know for how long. It might be in the morning you change back into a vicious creature again.”
His face fell, realizing that she was telling the truth. “You should go,” he said. “Before the dawn. You should put as much distance between us as possible.”
They stood staring at one another in the darkness as the fire crackled. Its flames leapt across Finn’s face, a face that been there for Aein in her darkest moments, a face which had kept her alive. A face she wanted with her.
He reached out and with the tips of two fingers, brushed back a long strand of hair which had fallen across her cheek.
She knew, though, that he was right and she had to say goodbye.
“I should sleep first,” she finally said.
Silently, he took her hand and guided her down to the bedroll. He placed her head upon his thigh, to use his leg as her pillow. He stroked her hair and said, “Sleep. I shall wake you in a few hours to send you on your way.”
She stared into the fire, feeling Finn’s rough hands gently soothing her to dreamland. He began to hum a tune so low and quiet that she could barely hear. She did not know when her eyes closed, but it was too soon when Finn shook her shoulder to let her know it was time.
Groggily, she stood, rolling up her bedroll and bringing it over to her horse, who did not seem entirely happy that they had to leave, either. Aein tied everything securely and turned back to Finn. It felt so good, so good for just one night to be safe. To not be hunted. To just be with him.
His eyes were soft as he stepped in close, so close she could feel his breath. “No matter what…” he said. And then he lowered his mouth to hers.
Though his stubble was rough against her face, his kiss was tender and gentle, asking nothing
more than just that moment, but at the same time, it felt like falling into eternity.
As they parted, as Aein ached to stay, she knew that unless she found that bush, this was all they would ever have.
He reached down and grabbed her shin, hoisting her up into her saddle. “Go,” he said. “I shall travel in the opposite direction until the sunrise.”
She nodded, knowing that it was the right thing to do, even if she did not want to. As she rode away, she looked back. He lifted his fingers to his lips and held it out to her, held it until the darkness swallowed him and she could see him no more.
Chapter Eighteen
The days and nights faded one into the other. Aein slept when she could, but would wake with nightmares of those she left behind. She traveled until she was ready to fall out of her saddle, or until her horse refused to move another inch. In case the transformation brought about by the berry had not lasted, she traveled when Finn would have been in wolf form. Her path was lit only by the waning moon and she found she had to stop frequently to get her bearings. Sometimes she would hear a wolf howling in the distance. Each time, she prayed that it was not any of the creatures from the stronghold. But part of her also prayed it was Finn trying to let her know that he could not leave her.
One night, she noticed a glowing light in the forest flickering like a campfire. She pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. She tied him to a tree. Though she knew she had a duty to investigate, to warn the people that there might be wolves on the prowl, there was something which told her to approach with caution.
She skulked through the undergrowth, trying to move as silently as possible. She peered into the light, grateful that she was hidden in the darkness. Lying around the fire were forty enormous werewolves.
But each of them wore a silver harness which wrapped around their necks and legs. None of the werewolves moved, but all forty shifted their eyes towards her. One tried to stand, but fell with a whimper as if the silver harness weighed a thousand pounds.
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