The news of what had happened spread like wildfire. While walking back to Uncle's house, I had been stopped many times. My blood-soaked shirt was hard to overlook. I passed on the news to each person who asked, making sure to insist there was no idea yet of what had led Eleonore to her doom.
Despite what I told them, a small glint in their eyes told me they already knew what had done it: the mysterious wolf that had been hunting the village's animals for three months.
I sank in the barrel full of water, dropping on a wooden bench I had built. The fire underneath kept the water hot even in the low temperatures outside. I was forbidden from bathing inside the house, and for what reason, I never knew. Uncle forbade it, so I obeyed.
My privileges had been limited to eating and sleeping inside, in the attic. Now that it was winter, Uncle didn't mind as much when I spent a few hours inside. Once the weather perked up, I would be kicked outside once again. I dropped in the water until only my nose hovered over it.
I had gotten away with murder.
That poor girl should've made it home, not died like livestock in the woods. I was saved for now because of the mysterious person who erased my footprints. Looking at their size, I guessed it to be a girl who had done it.
But why? To cover my mistake, so our world might not be discovered? My thoughts ran rapid, the possibilities seeming endless.
I buttoned up a fresh shirt, happy to rid myself of the blood that stained my skin. I could still feel it there, but so long as I didn't have to look at it, I could manage.
I walked down the steps to the main level of Uncle's house and headed for the dining room. The smell of roasted meat hit me, and my mouth began watering. It had been so long since I had had any, it seemed like eternity.
I pushed open the door. A table large enough to seat ten fit in the large white room perfectly. Uncle, Aunty, and my five cousins sat ready to eat. Uncle held a butcher's knife, ready to carve into the cooked deer roast sitting in the center of the table.
My eyes dropped—the more I wanted it, the less likely I would be to get any at all. Pretending to have no interest, I took up my usual spot in the corner of the table. Across from Henri, and an empty chair between me and Aunty.
"Do you like the deer we hunted last night while you were running loose?"
I nodded, finding it best to agree. "Ja, Uncle. It must have been quite the challenge,"
My eldest cousin Henri, twenty, slapped his hands down on the table. "By the stars in Aldreina's skies, the beast wouldn't drop! Claw it, bite it, the thing would just keep running. I can still taste fur," Henri's smile lit up.
After Uncle murdered my father, Henri became next in line for the throne. He seemed to be kinder than Uncle was, but I never really spent much time with my relatives as of late.
Lore, fourteen, rolled her eyes. "I believe it kept running away because you allowed it to."
"Do you think we didn't see that tumble you took?" pitched in August, sixteen.
Jan looked down into his plate. "I hate being this young. I can't wait to go with you guys. I'm stuck running around in the backyard with Els."
Uncle stood. "Enough chatter. It is time for us to enjoy our catch of the month."
The knife stabbed into the meat, its juices flowing out from the puncture hole. Uncle dragged the knife down, carving out a large piece and plopping it on Henri's plate. Each one of my cousins received their share first, then Aunty.
I didn't dare look up as Uncle carved the last piece. "Your plate, Felken."
My heart fluttered. I offered the fine china; a mental sigh of relief escaped my parted lips.
Uncle handed back my plate, and my face fell.
Potatoes. Baked potatoes.
I looked at him, my disappointment clear on my face.
"I believe you've had enough to eat for a while after last night. Those potatoes were a gift from Rosaline Lovelock, so you'd better enjoy them."
I stabbed my fork into the vegetable. Why would Rosaline bother giving us potatoes now of all times? Werewolves were the most human like, and the only species that could be starved to death. She probably offered them to Uncle after the other Council members didn't want them. I mentally lashed out at Uncle. I wanted to eat what they were eating, not some gift from a Demon Lord—
Rosaline Lovelock.
She held high power in our world as one of the top three Demon Lords. Although most boasted of her insanity, many times she did things like giving gifts as a way of giving hints that she was watching.
Had she been the one who covered my tracks? That would have explained the lack of evidence that someone had come or gone, and her reasoning could have simply been to fix my mistake. Although, from what I had heard, doing charity work was not her specialty.
"Seems the neighbors have caught on to her attempts to poison them after they picked some of her prized roses," Uncle said.
I coughed, choking on a bite-sized portion of my food. I spat it out and drained my glass of water.
"Calm down, Felken. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago. The poison works on humans."
I gulped down my water, hoping Uncle's words were true. I suppose it was only a coincidence Rosaline was mentioned. I would have to look elsewhere for answers.
I watched my cousins wolf down their meals, none of them having to eat the potatoes. I finished early, but my stomach still growled. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip. I didn't want to say anything that would get me into trouble.
My plate was taken from me. I looked up at Aunty. She flashed me a small smile before carving me my own piece of the roast. I glanced at Uncle; his frown deepened.
"The boy is growing, Konrad. You can't expect mere vegetables to fill his belly. Here," Aunty handed my plate back, but I didn't start eating.
"He killed a child last night. He shouldn't be eating at all," Uncle snapped.
His eyes looked to mine, and for once, I held eye contact. The staring contest continued for a few seconds before I gave in and looked away.
"Very well. Eat, and sleep in that cabin of yours, or sleep here while hungry. The choice is yours."
With my belly full, I tossed a log in the fireplace, the sparks rising as the fire grew. I dropped to the floor, resting an arm on my leg.
Uncle always threatened he would force me to sleep in the cabin if I disobeyed. I put on my best act of dismay, but in reality, I enjoyed it. I could have peace and quiet in here.
I dug my notebook out of my leather satchel. My hands groped in the dark for my pencil, the writing utensil a fraction of its original size. I slipped my flip knife from my pocket and ran it over the pencil's end, keeping my hand as steady as possible. I stopped and examined it after each stroke, not wanting to make a careless mistake against the last pencil I would ever get.
It would be easy for Uncle to get me more, but he would always refuse, and buying one was out of the question. I had no money; Uncle had taken all of my parents' savings for his own when he became king. Even if I did have the money, the price of things seemed to be going up by the day.
I spread the worn pages, skipping the previous drawings I had made. Most were of flowers or scenery I had thought were pretty at the time.
I held the pencil over the blank page, gathering my thoughts. I sketched a pair of eyes, both shining with life. If I had paints, they would be the color of the sky.
I drew the girl's face, small but a little chubby from her youth, adding a few freckles on her cheeks. Dark hair followed, most of it covered with what should have been a red cloak, but could not be captured with my grey pencil.
The longer I drew, the faster my pencil seemed to sketch out the girl I had murdered. Each stroke on the paper was a stab of guilt to my chest; each one I deserved.
The edges of her lips curled up, as if mocking me. She must have been a trusting girl if she was willing to hike through the woods on her own. At least she didn't stray from the path like most did.
I stopped.
I scribbled Rotkäppchen at the bottom: Little Red Riding Hood, the girl who was eaten by the big bad wolf.
I examined the drawing, filling in extra details as best as I could remember. I wish I could have seen her laughing, smiling, or crying, just something other than staring up at the sky with dead eyes. That image would be stuck in my head for eternity, no matter how I drew her in my sketchbook.
I stood, dropping the notebook on the table. I placed the pencil and knife back in my bag. I checked the fire once more before crawling under the musty, wool blankets of the cot. I groaned at the lump in the middle of the mattress but curled up on my side regardless, facing the wall. Maybe if I was lucky, the cabin would catch on fire and burn my sins with everything else. I closed my eyes.
I sat up, panting. My hands reached for my neck, the feeling of someone's hands still lingering. My skin throbbed where it had been squeezed. My eyes bolted around in the dark looking for somebody. The door was still shut. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air from the fire. My eyes searched the dark for any movement, but there was nothing.
I took a deep breath and felt the taste of pine on my tongue. It wasn't a dream; I was sure of that.
Peeling the blankets off, I stood on my feet. I fetched a log from the pile and tossed it in the fire. Now smoldering, I half doubted it would reignite. I felt my neck once again, shaking my head.
"You're losing it, Felken." I muttered to myself.
I grabbed my bag off the floor, searching for the loaf of bread Aunty had snuck me before I left. Now stale, it was a disappointing taste after last night's dinner, but I bit into it eagerly and swallowed it regardless.
The more I ate, the more my head cleared. I glanced at the wool blanket on my bed. It was just the scratchy fabric that had been draped over my skin, giving the illusion I was being choked. Mixed with the previous day's accident, my mind had jumped to a conclusion.
I was an idiot. I chuckled to myself, reaching for my notebook. It was open, the page displaying Eleonore's portrait I had drawn the night before. Nothing about the picture had changed. My eyes focused on the small violet flower resting on the page next to it.
My hand flew to my neck. I dashed to the locked door, throwing open the latch. I kicked the door open. Snow blew in, blinding me for a moment. I brushed the flakes from my face, bolting outside.
Everything was awash with the blue of twilight. My eyes searched for something, anything, but I did not see a hint of movement. I looked down at the snow for some signs. There were no footprints in front of the door, nor any leading to it. My heart raced faster with each passing second.
I stepped out further, closing the door but making sure to leave a crack open, just in case I had to escape behind the cabin's walls. My bare feet stepped into the fresh snow. I snapped my head to look behind me, keeping my eyes and ears open. I sniffed the air, but the smells of the forests made it hard to distinguish between any other smells.
I ran my hand along the slivered wood of the cabin's side, feeling each bump and crack of the cabin's exterior. I took a final look around before peeking around the corner.
Nothing.
I took a few steps, stopping at the two imprints in the snow just under the window. I bent down for a closer look. They were the same as the tiny ones beside Eleonore's body. I let out a small gasp, feeling my neck again.
Something had been in my room, but for what reason?
It hadn't tried very hard to kill me.
I pushed against my knee to stand up straight. Nothing made sense anymore. I took one more glance at the prints before heading back. I no longer felt safe being here.
I rubbed my face with my hand, peeking between my fingers. A second set of imprints in the snow caught my attention—these ones had been standing directly behind me as I looked over the ones under the window.
I took in a deep breath, feeling the blood drain from my face. There was nothing but fresh snow a moment ago.
I took off, dashing inside the cabin and slamming the door. I dumped my things into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Yanking my boots on, I left. The fire had grown to be a small, smoking pile from the log I had tossed on it, and eventually it would grow. If the fire inside were to burn the whole cabin down, so be it.
I jogged in the direction of the main trail that led to the village, glancing back every few seconds. I still couldn't smell anything, but I could feel the eyes on me.
I pushed the last tree branch out of the way as dawn broke, reaching the trail. The skies grew brighter by the second. My pace quickened.
My lungs burned for air, but I pushed my limbs harder until I reached the edge of the forest. I allowed myself a quick break to catch my breath. Panting, I did a final check behind me.
In the snow sat a single crocus flower, with two small footprints behind it.