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Chapter 1:- The Trouble With Wolves
When Madsen’s sheep first began to disappear, the village hoped profoundly that the wolves were only passing through. But as each night passed and more sheep were lost to their teeth, the village Elders chose to bring together a night watch to help old Madsen protect his only commodity. Madsen stopped losing sheep, though a number of young men lost a great deal of sleep in the process. The village again hoped that the wolves would move on.
But everyone knew that winter was coming—and it would be hard that year, on both man and beast alike.
Just before the snows began to fall, sightings of wolves at the borders of the village became more and more numerous. The villagers went no where alone or unarmed as the days became shorter. Traps and poisons were set in the woods to bring the pack’s numbers down and discourage the survivors.
It was early dusk when the copper and dun wolf slunk through the woods. The sun had barely begun to dip into the west, but it cast deep shadows that mimicked night beneath the canopy of the trees. He moved quickly, eager to return to the pack and already sorry that he had strayed so far from them. He could smell the poisoned meat ahead at the edge of the human’s path and sidestepped it with a soft growl.
Snap.
The wolf gave a high yelp of pain and panic as the metal teeth of the trap dug into his back leg. He collapsed to one side, angling desperately towards the wound, the smell of his own blood sharp and frightening to his nose. He wined and pawed ineffectively at the metal that bound him. A wolf had no way to free himself alone. He turned his head back and forth, sniffing the air for the trace of an approaching human. He had only a little time.
She held her cloak tight around her against the bitter wind, her eyes locked upon the path before her. The basket she carried felt a little heavier with each step, but she knew it wouldn’t take her long to get through the woods. It wasn’t until she came around the big oak that she realized there was something on the path ahead of her. She lifted her eyes to see a slender—and very naked—young man sitting at the path’s edge.
“Oh!” She quickly averted her eyes, covering them with her hand. “Oh, goodness.”
The young man started at the sound of her voice and turned frightened eyes to her. He saw a girl of fifteen years or so, with long dark hair and skin the color of milk. She wore the heavy wool dress that the girls of the village wore as a rule, and a thick dark cloak that hung to her ankles. He couldn’t see her eyes, as she was quite busily hiding them behind her hand. Despite the pain, he cracked a smile at the perfectly red blush on her cheeks. But the smile lasted only a moment before it was replaced by a deep grimace of pain.
She heard the pain in his soft curse and risked a peek from behind her hand. She saw the blood on his leg and then hid her eyes once more. She set down the basket and fumbled with the tie at her throat. Stepping forward, she offered her cloak to him, still hiding her eyes behind her hand.
He looked at her in surprise even as she held the cloak out to him. It took him a moment to realize that she meant to help and he reached up to take it, quickly wrapping it around himself in a semblance of decency. “Thank you?”
At his rough and confused voice, she finally uncovered her eyes to look at his face. For a moment, all that she saw was a pair of beautiful hazel-brown eyes, clouded with pain. She realized that he wasn’t much older than her, but she did not recognize him from the village. His skin was more weathered that the boys she knew, his hair a strange coppery brown she had not seen before. “How badly are you hurt?” she asked, kneeling beside him on the path.
He grimaced again and nodded to his ankle, which was caught in the metal bear trap. She winced in sympathy and immediately moved closer, reaching out a hesitant hand to the awful looking thing. “What happened to you?” she asked, looking for the release.
“I stepped on the trap.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I could have figured that out myself, thank you. How did a stranger such as yourself end up out here, caught in a bear trap and without a scrap of clothing?”
“…I got separated from my caravan,” he told her after a moment’s hesitation. “I was set upon by highway men. They let me live, but took everything I had on me. In my hurry to get away, I didn’t see the trap.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you make a habit of helping strange naked men that you meet in the forest?”
She shrugged and gave him an arched look. “The situation does not often arise, truth be told. Do you have a habit of running naked through strange forests?”
“Ha.” He breathed deep, doing his best to ignore the pain. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?”
She smiled. “My mother taught me that to help someone, even a stranger, could bring no ill and much good.”
“Hm. Not advice one hears very often. May I have your name, rescuer of mine?”
“Don’t you have one of your own?” she asked tartly. But she glanced at him, smiling. “It’s Rhoslyn.”
“Did your mother also teach you how to set traps?”
“No, that was my father,” she replied, turning her attention back to it. “He has no sons—only me.” Frowning in concentration, she gave sharp instruction, “When I say—pull your foot out. I’ll only be able to hold it for a moment.” She looked at him to make sure he understood. He nodded curtly and breathed deeply again. Rhoslyn nodded once and then pressed the rusted release with all her strength. “Now!” The metal groaned in protest, but the teeth of the trap gave way enough for the youth to pull his ankle free before it snapped closed again.
The youth collapsed on the path, gasping in relief and pain alike. Rhoslyn knelt beside him, studying the deep wounds. “I think your ankle is broken, stranger.”
“I think you’re quite right,” the youth said breathlessly, sitting up. “I thank you, miss Rhoslyn. You’ve done me a great service.”
“You’re lucky I came by when I did,” Rhoslyn told him, taking the cloth from the top of her basket to wrap it gently around his ankle. “The forest has been thick with wolves the last few weeks.”
An edge of humor touched his voice. “Oh? You don’t say?”
“Father says they’ve never been this bad,” Rhoslyn said, not hearing his suppressed laughter. “With night coming, you’d have been quite the meal for them, I’m sure.” Her eyes drifted towards the trap as she spoke. Something there made her voice catch on her next words. “I imagine we seem rather weak and pale to a…to a wolf.”
The youth looked followed her gaze and saw what had made her eyes widen in fear.
Caught in the dark blood were tufts of thick coppery fur.
Rhoslyn slowly turned her eyes back to him, obviously holding back tears.
He sighed, looking from the trap to those big dark eyes. “No, not really,” he told her slowly. “…you’re the ones with the guns.” He gave her a crooked grin. “…and the traps. What are teeth and claws compared to those?”
She swallowed, fighting to say anything past the lump in her throat. “Are you going to eat me?” she asked, her voice several octaves higher from fear.
The youth—the wolf—sighed again and leaned forward, touching her cheek with his fingertips. “I would never be so impolite to one who has done me a great service.” He looked pained again when he saw the tears escape her eyes. “Don’t cry, pretty rose,” he pleaded weakly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Come on now.” He pulled his hand back, making it clear he would not touch her again. “I’ll do you one better,” he said, struck by an inspiration. “I’ll give you a boon for the rescue of my life.” He touched a finger to his bloodied ankle. “Hold out your hand,” he told her gently.
Though it shook horribly, she did as he asked. In a quick gesture, the wolf opened a shallow cut on her palm and touched the drop of his blood to it, mingling it with hers.
Rhoslyn frowned and pulled her hand back. “What did you do?” she asked, wiping away her tears with her other hand.
“Now you shall never have to fear a wolf,” he told her. “They’ll smell my blood mixed with yours and know that you are not to be harmed.”
Rhoslyn carefully lifted her eyes to his once more. “Can all wolves look like men if they wish?” she asked him.
“No,” he said. “It’s only a few of us. Not too afraid now? I liked you better when you smiled, you know.”
Rhoslyn managed a weak smile. “I need to go. I’m expected soon. They’ll come looking for me if I don’t hurry now.” She stood and reached for her basket. “Should I send help back to you?” she asked, thinking of his ankle. “I can tell Father the same story you told me—“
“No, I’ll be alright,” he said. “We heal rather quickly, my kind. Don’t you want your cloak back?” he asked with a rather sly grin.
Rhoslyn glared a reproach at him, though a smile played at her lips. “No, that’s alright,” she told him firmly. She pointed down the path. “There’s a cottage down that way. You can return it there when you’re decent.”
“I’ll do that,” he said, nodding his head. “You’ll have it before morning, I swear it.”
“Well then.” Rhoslyn brushed at her skirts and then squared her shoulders bravely. “Goodbye then, Mr. Wolf. I’m glad to have met a wolf with such good manners.”
“Goodbye, Miss Rhoslyn,” the wolf replied, grinning widely. “Thank you again. I won’t forget it.”
Rhoslyn smiled a little brighter and then hurried down the path, moving quickly against the cold evening wind.
It wasn’t long before she reached the comforting sight of the cottage, smoke rising from the chimney and candlelight bright in the tiny windows. With a relieved sigh, she pushed past the gate and knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” came the elderly voice. “You’re terribly late, child.”
Rhoslyn smiled and entered the cottage. “I’m sorry,” she said, closing the door behind her. “It won’t happen again.”
“Didn’t stray from the path did you?”
“No, Grandmother,” Rhoslyn promised.
