Her Wolf King

{la forêt}

THE FOREST

She tore through the forest, legs burning, the hollow ache in her chest reminiscent of the night that she had met him. Only now it was broad daylight, and she was a fool.

Lenore Abrahams was a fool to think that not all men were the same. She was a wretched idiot to believe that any man could feel love for her - could feel anything but the desire to possess her, to own her, to use her and discard her when they were through.

How could she have thought that because it had been her choice to marry him, she was free? No, she had only played into his hands. Marriage, at the moment, felt like yet another shackle, yet another fetter around her wrists, clasping at her ankles and weighing her down. Or perhaps it was only the heavy gown that she wore, the fur cloak still draped around her shoulders. She shucked it off in a fit of rage and paused to take in her surroundings.

After all, it would be even more reckless to get lost here. Who knew what sorts of beasts might be waiting to attack her - or worse yet, magical creatures? And Lenore had sworn a vow to him. She couldn't leave the castle, could she? And to what protection would she return? She had placed herself completely at the mercy of a wolf, and even the wolf himself had warned her against such lunacy. Lenore snorted--a most unladylike sound, but she was all alone--and rested her hands on her knees.

Perhaps she had overreacted. Perhaps it had only been a turn of phrase from an era far gone, from a time when women had been the property of their fathers and husbands, little better than children or chattel. Perhaps she had wed a mongrel whose views were as barbaric as any animal's, yet she hadn't felt that way. Looking into his eyes, she had not felt anything but...

But what? Affection? Desire? Attraction? For a man who lived by himself in the woods, half-savage and half-civilized? Now she really did question her own soundness of mind.

Lenore shook her head, gazing at the trees around her. Their leaves were golden, falling slowly into a carpet of rust and ruby beneath her feet. She frowned. It had been winter when she'd left the village, the very heart of the coldest season. How could it appear like autumn here? Were the days enchanted, that one span of hours was like several months? Would she return to find her family old and withered and grey?

Elsewhere, lights seemed to twinkle in the branches, and birdsong filled her ears. It felt like something out of a storybook. She spied rabbits darting around the tree roots, a squirrel scampering up the trunk with its bushy tail and twitchy nose. How long had it been since she had felt the warmth of anything but a hearth fire and her father's embrace?

And now, the air was crisp, the sky blue, the sun shining. Her anger subsided somewhat, and she put away thoughts of the grouchy husband she'd left behind, venturing deeper into the autumn wood. A sound stiffened her spine, causing her to tense against the shelter of a white birch tree, carved and scarred with swirling lines.

She froze, afraid to move. Lenore had never much liked the country, always preferring to be in the bustle of town. At least then, the noises couldn't lead to an animal that would eat one alive. Though perhaps the humans in town were the least humane of all.

Footsteps crunched the leaves and twigs underfoot. She reached for a weapon, trying to find anything that she could use in her own defence. The birch, almost as if it heard her cry, gave a great and heavy snap. She let out a tiny yelp as a branch came soaring down past her head and landed at her feet, like a gift. She could use it as a club, or a lash. Lenore almost felt like saying thank you. Yet it had to be nothing more than coincidence.

Couldn't it?

You could be in an enchanted forest, for all you know. Autumn in the wintertime!