Beauty and the Beast

The Wolves

Snow swirled all around, blurring the young woman's vision as she trudged through the piling drifts. The path along the hillside was becoming more and more slippery by the moment. Tara did her best to steer Giuseppe from any slopes, but the blizzard had made things hazardous. All of the sudden, she heard the sound of cracking ice as the horse broke through the frozen surface of a small creek, plunging them both into freezing cold water. Thankfully, the water wasn't very deep, but now she and the horse were both soaking wet.  Shivering, Tara crawled up the snow bank, pulling Giuseppe by the reigns behind her. Her entire arm and shoulder were still sore from where Loki had grabbed her, which would make it painful to climb back up again, but there was no way she could walk in this weather! Just as the young villager was struggling to climb onto the steed's back, a shrill howl pierced through the night air. Her heart was suddenly filled with dread. Such a savage howl could only mean one thing: wolves. 

The girl barely had time to move. No sooner had she managed to grab the saddle strap to pull herself up, then they were upon her, growling ferociously and baring their fangs. They seemed to have come from nowhere as they circled around her and the horse. One of them leapt up and yanked Tara down by her cloak, dragging down unto frozen ground. The girl let out a slight squeal of pain as she landed on her injured side. Desperately she searched around for a fallen branch or a heavy stone, anything she could use to create a gap between herself and the wolves.  Finally, Tara grabbed a long stick and batted at the largest one, a black wolf with glowing yellow eyes and drool pouring out of his mouth. The vicious creature, undaunted by the attack, lunged forward and grabbed the branch in his teeth, biting it in two like a mere toothpick. Tara fell backwards into the snow, crawling as far backwards as she could; her stallion could not protect her, he was whinnying and bucking madly on his own, attempting to throw the wolves that had climbed unto his back. The teenager was on her own. She could feel the heat of its breath as it crept closer to her, its tongue hanging and its lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing every yellow fang in its wide jaw. The brown skinned girl shut her eyes tight, preparing herself for the worst when all of a sudden she heard the sound of yelping and of something heavy being tossed unto the ground. When she dared to open her eyes, she saw that the black furred wolf lay a few feet away, struggling to get to its feet. There in front of her stood a tall dark figure. Loki.

One by one, the wolves were belted with icy blasts from the frost giant's hands. most of them turned tail and ran, limping away, while a few stuck around to fight. All Loki had to do was touch them, hold them firmly in his grasp, and they would fall to the ground shaking and whimpering from the pain of frostbite. That must be a part of frost giants' magic, Tara thought, as she sat staring in shock at the scene. Just as she thought it was over, the dark alpha wolf, shaking its head from the pain, angrily charged at Loki, tearing open his vest and ripping the flesh underneath. Loki, groaning in pain, was still able to grab the beast by the scruff of its neck, and fling it hard into the bark of a tree, breaking its neck. When they saw their leader fall unto the ground in a lifeless heap, the other wolves fled back into the forest, the sound of their frightened yelps fading into the night.

Tara watched as Loki exhaled, squeezing his eyes tightly, and collapsed onto the snow.

"LOKI!"  Tara raced to his side, forgetting her own injuries. Blood was gushing out of the gash in his torso, staining his leather vest and snow. Erskine's daughter first inclination was to scream at the sight, but this was no time for hysterics. Immediately, she began pressing snow into the wound, a trick that she had seen her father use on wounded soldiers. The snow would momentarily stop the bleeding and help keep it from getting infected. Once she had packed it down hard enough, Tara rolled over on top of him, her back to his torso.  Taking each sleeve of his arms, the 19 year old managed to pull him up onto her back. Getting him up unto the back of the horse proved difficult, but after a few tries, she was able to climb into the saddle,  leaning forward so that the prince wouldn't slide off. With one arm around Giuseppe's neck, and the other keeping Loki balanced, they rode off down the hill and back to the castle. Thankfully the blizzard had stopped, so it was easier getting back.

When they got to the castle entrance, the doors were already open, with the little Herre Tekappe, Glysmere, and Hemsworth waiting there with worried looks on their faces.

"What happened, child??" the motherly tea kettle inquired, as the young woman came in, struggling under the man's weight.

"Wolves," Tara panted, as she laid him softy unto the Persian rug, "I can save him, but I'm going to need all your help. Ms. Tekappe, round up all the forks and prongs you can find. Hemsworth, bring be any linen cloth that can be used as bandages, and any whiskey or rum you have in the house, the alcohol can work as a disinfectant. Oh, and also, bring me a thin piece of silk thread and a needle, the wound may need stitching, and Glysmere, I need you and the other candelabras to provide as much light as you possibly can."  Once the servants had returned with all the supplies, the doctor's daughter set to work. It was really a minor operation, one she had seen her father do multiple times before, but it would be tricky because she would have to be careful not to touch the prince's skin for too long, or risk her fingers going numb. Carefully, with help from the forks, Tara was able to rip open the vest and the crisp white shirt underneath. Clearing away the last of the snow, she was able to see that the gash wasn't too deep, but there was still some bleeding. Tara sighed, deeply. He would need stitches after all.

Bracing herself for the cold, Tara began gently pressing his sides and ribcage, checking for any signs of broken bones. Save for a few scratches, there appeared to be no other damage. She could feel the prince flinching a little as she lightly poured wine unto the wound. If he could feel pain, he couldn't be completely comatose, which was a good thing. Threading the needle, she expertly began stitching up pieces of blue skin, sewing up the wide gash into a thin line.  The enchanted objects and servants sat silently as the skilled young woman worked, beads of sweat breaking on her brown forehead.  Ripping a piece of cloth that Hemsworth had brought, Tara began making a makeshift bandage, tying strips of torn fabric together and wrapping it tightly around the man's waist, applying pressure to help stop the bleeding. When at last she was finished, Tara draped her cloak, which was now dry from all the heat from the candles, over her rescuer, like a blanket. Herre Tekappe offered to bring a hot cup of tea up to her room, but Tara politely declined, insisting that she was fine. She told the housemaid that she would spend the night there, in the castle lobby, just to keep an eye on him, so the porcelain kettle quietly shooed everyone away so that the pair could get some much needed rest. 

The young doctor was pleased to see that the prince had entered into a more natural sleep, his chest rising and falling slightly as he snored on the floor. Tara smiled to herself, slumping back in a nearby armchair chair, exhausted. "I'll never run away ever again," the beautiful young woman murmured, before falling asleep.