Wrath and Ruin

by Ripley Proserpina

  This time when she cried out, Anatoliy roared. He licked her again then stalked away. His body trembled as if he was restraining himself. Once at a tree, he clawed it.

  Polya was momentarily frozen. She knew what damage his claws could do, but the ease with which he raked inches deep gashes in the tree took her aback. He made it look like nothing, like he was dipping a spoon in soup.

  He stood tall on his legs, reaching up as high as he could. His claws dug into the bark, rending it apart before he lowered his head and slammed into it. He reared back and did it again.

  “Anatoliy!”

  He didn’t hear her, or he wasn’t listening, because he did it again. There was a groaning noise, the sound of roots tearing and snapping. The earth at the base of the tree sprayed into the air as the tree shook and fell over. Anatoliy took a step back, watching it fall with a look of satisfaction.

  “Anatoliy.”

  He faced her, his head down, sides heaving.

  “Are you finished?”

  He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.

  “That was quite possibly the silliest thing I’ve ever watched someone do. Does your head hurt?”

  He seemed to think about it, before shaking his head slowly from side to side. His eyes closed suddenly, and Polya rolled hers. “Maybe a little?”

  He had the sense to look embarrassed.

  Polya unwrapped the dripping bandage and wound it around her waist, then took another, and wound that around the alcohol soaked one before tying it in place. She put on a new undershirt and buttoned it, carefully pushing her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. She heard Anatoliy pad across the ground then groan as he sat down.

  She turned to face him, eyebrows drawing together as she pulled at her still-stinging wounds. She sat on her knees and edged closer to him, putting her hands on either side of his huge face.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, gaze roaming over his head as she examined him for blood or reopened wounds. When she didn’t see any, she released him and sat back, slowly crossing her legs so she could remove her boots.

  Anatoliy glanced away and rested his face on his paws.

  “Fine. Ignore me.”

  She turned around jerkily, hiking up her skirt and slowly unrolling her stockings. When she’d taken one off, she held it up. She saw tiny spots of blood at the top where she’d been pierced with darts. She sighed and grabbed another bandage to begin cleaning off her legs.

  Polya could hear Anatoliy breathing behind her. His breath caught every now and then. If he hadn’t been a bear, she’d have thought he’d been about to speak.

  She put on her only other set of stockings then her boots. Whirling around to speak, she swallowed her words.

  “You’ll be useless if you knock yourself senseless!” Polya stopped herself from reaching out and bopping his nose when he continued to look away from her. “Anatoliy.”

  He continued to look away, and she sighed.

  “Anatoliy,” she said, her voice quiet and kind, “I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

  Immediately, he began to write. “You are strong. You can do this without me.”

  No! She stamped her foot then sucked in a breath when it reopened her side. Gently, she grasped it, wanting to press against the hurt that pulsed in her side.

  “Stop stamping your foot, you brat,” he wrote.

  “I’m not a brat. You are a stubborn, thick-headed…”

  He watched her, and waited. He seemed to enjoy that she’d worked herself into a fit.

  “You’re a…”

  He tapped his claw against the ground the way someone would drum their fingers on a table in boredom.

  “Argh! Forget it!”

  He huffed out a laugh, and she turned away so he didn’t see her smile.

  He gave her a small bump in the back of her leg so she’d turn around and look at him.

  “I don’t like that you were hurt. I want to help you. I am frustrated that I cannot help you,” he slowly wrote, thinking about each word he traced.

  “I don’t want you to be hurt either,” Polya replied. “So don’t injure yourself needlessly.”

  She thought he looked a little embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I forgive you,” she said quickly, touching his head and stroking his fur before laying her head carefully on top of his.

  Polya Can’t Be Quiet

  “What are we going to do?”

  Anatoliy opened his eyes. He’d allowed himself to pretend he was comfortable, that his body didn’t ache, that he wasn’t scared out of his mind because he was powerless to protect this tiny girl, and that he wasn’t overwhelmed by feelings he’d never had before.

  He sighed, and she followed suit, her breath washing over his fur, and making his ears twitch. Extending his paw, he began to write, “Follow the path.”

  She moved away from him to see what he’d written, and he immediately missed the weight and heat of her.

  She stood and gazed at the mountain. Her tailed swayed from side to side, the black tip swinging like a bell. Hands on her hips, she sighed. “I’ll freeze. We’ll be completely exposed on that rock face.”

  Anatoliy stood, turned in a circle and sat back on his haunches to stare up at the mountain. He’d been there before, and she was right. She would freeze. And that was if she was lucky and didn’t fall in a crevasse. Her tail struck his back, but instead of swinging away, it rested against his body then curled around his side. Inside his body, the man he used to be closed his eyes and absorbed the comfort of her embrace.

  “If we go down, they’ll attack,” he wrote finally.

  “If we go up, they attack.”

  Her voice was resigned, and he growled in response.

  He wanted her to live. She needed to live. This world that had been torture and evil—that had broken his heart and shown him the devil—had changed because of her.

  He extended a claw, fighting with himself, wondering if he really believed what he was about to write. He struggled. He didn’t want to give her false hope, but he felt some. He saw a corner of brightness slowly illuminate his future. “We could live. We could succeed.”

  Polya snorted and leaned against his body. “It seems unlikely.”

  He growled and turned to face her. Even sitting, he was still taller than she was. He stared into her eyes, trying to make her see what he was coming to realize. They were going to fight.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he dipped his head so they could be nose to nose. Her eyes crossed, and she jerked her head back, a laugh forced from her throat. She reached her hands up and took his head between them. “Do you really think we could survive?”

  He nodded. Believe me, he thought, trust me.

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breath ruffled his fur as she buried her face against him, rubbing her cheek against the bristles.

  He wished for arms to embrace her, but settled on closing his eyes and drinking her in. Her tail curved upward and snapped his nose just as she drew back.

  “I believe you,” she said. “I trust you. Should we go now?”

  No. The snow was starting to fall, and it would be dark soon. He hoped the king was entertained enough to want to keep them alive through this second challenge. He hoped, because Polya’s father was a prince, he would at least keep her alive.

  “Morning,” he wrote in the waning light.

  She peered at his writing closely. “I’m cold,” she whined.

  He huffed and started walking. She followed him. “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t want to stop and answer. Hiking would warm her up, and he’d find a place which felt a little safer.

  “Do you think they’re watching us?”

  He imagined they were. In fact, his men were probably nearby, watching and reporting. He was sure Dara sent men up and down the path, and he was sure it killed him to have to do so.

  Polya’s hand reached out and touched his side
. She didn’t remove it as they walked, just kept in contact. The light touch made Anatoliy shiver, and she took her hand away. “Sorry.”

  He stopped, wishing he had fingers to link with hers or a hand to grasp hers and put it back on his body. Her touch warmed him and soothed him. He never wanted her to stop touching him.

  Finally, he found a well-sheltered spot. The tall pines were close together, the boughs so huge they could crawl underneath them and be shielded from the falling snow. Anatoliy put his nose under the bough, peered inside and sniffed. No other animals had sought shelter there, so he ducked and went under. Polya followed him, a tiny smile curving her lips.

  He walked around and around in tight circles before he lowered himself to the ground. He snuffed and sighed, watching her, waiting for her to sit near him. She sat in front of him. He stretched his neck, gripped her dress between his teeth and tugged gently.

  “Stop it,” she warned. “You’ll rip it.”

  He let go and put his paw on her dress, pulling at it, then on her leg, and pulled that. She giggled, a sound like the snow falling flake by flake. Unexpectedly, she slapped his paw with her tail. He took it back and made a pained sound, as if it hurt.

  “I’m sorry!” she said quickly, crawling forward to peer at his paw. He used her position to shove her off-balance so she fell into his side. Immediately, he curved around her, his head on her lap, and pushed her into his back legs so she was protected against the wind and the cold.

  “Anatoliy.” She said his name on a breath. Something about the way she sounded made him feel proud and shaken at the same time.

  Her hands brushed his ears and along his snout. He let her lift his head so she could look into his eyes.

  “You are magical,” she said. “In my wildest dreams, I never imagined anyone like you. I am sorry you were turned into a bear, but part of me is so glad you were. Look at you!” Her eyes roamed over his body. “You are everything I want to be; brave and strong and fierce and loyal.”

  He shook his head, closing his eyes. He was none of those things.

  “You are!” she argued. “I know you are.”

  She said the last part quietly, not to talk herself into believing it, but to reiterate it. Polya turned so her side pressed against him and her head rested against his chest.

  “I can hear your heartbeat,” she whispered. “It tells me that no matter what form you are, you are here, and you are real, and you are good and true.”

  He wanted to kiss her. He made a sound he’d never made before, a high-pitched whine, not of physical pain, but from his heart. If he had the chance to make a wish again, he’d wish for her.

  “I can’t sleep like this.”

  Her thought was so unexpected that Anatoliy took a moment to process it. He lay on his side and lifted his front paw. She looked at him, and the ground, and then crawled underneath his arm. He put his paw along her waist and pulled her into his belly.

  Slowly, she grasped his paw, extending each digit and curling her fingers around them, almost like she was linking her fingers with his. His paw rested heavily on her thigh. He tried to move it, but her fingers curled tighter.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “I’m not lying on my hip. And there are no cuts on that leg.”

  He growled at the remembered hurt she suffered.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “I’m trying to sleep. Some crazy man wants me to climb a mountain tomorrow.”

  He chuffed and settled for nosing her neck and breathing in her scent. Her tail snaked along his body before wrapping around the paw she held in her hand, holding him close to her.

  “Goodnight, Anatoliy.”

  Goodnight, my love. His eyes popped wide open as the words registered.

  Then he rolled them around in his brain, each repetition feeling righter and truer than the one previous.

  Snow

  Polya followed behind Anatoliy. His head was down, his gaze on the ground. Every so often, he’d lift his head, scan the path, then look back down. Polya did her best to imitate him, but she had no idea what she was looking for. All she had was a sense of foreboding, but she’d had that for weeks now. She thought about what Anatoliy had told her. He was a soldier who had been cursed to be a bear.

  She liked him.

  She liked his bear. He was growly and frustrating, stubborn and kind, and she couldn’t help wondering what he’d be like as a man. At the same time, she was satisfied just knowing the bear.

  She’d woken up this morning cocooned against his body. The winter birds chirped, and the wind shook the boughs, dropping collected snow on the ground in near-silent puffs. She smiled. She burrowed backward into Anatoliy’s body, and he’d shifted to move closer to her. She’d kissed his paw and hoped he couldn’t feel it, because she wasn’t fully awake and the checks she made to her behavior were weaker. Then, she turned to face his chest, let go of his paw, and pulled her arms up between them as if to pray.

  When she’d heard and felt the rumble of his growl, she knew it wasn’t because he was angry or that she’d woken him, but because they had to move.

  Polya tried to make it easier on him, pushing back and sitting up. But there was a moment when their eyes met, and it was as if every unspoken feeling passed between them. Her cheeks had blushed hotly, and she’d looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. When she’d peered back up at him, he seemed prouder. She’d smiled and bit her lip, pulling her tail around her body and stroking it nervously.

  They’d shared the water that was left, and each had a strip of the dried meat and some hardtack. She’d tried to get him to eat more, but he refused. There was not enough alcohol left to justify carrying the cask, so she poured the remaining liquid into a jar. Their supplies of bandages and salve were very low. The items fit easily into her satchel.

  Her tail whipped back and forth in agitation, and Anatoliy had written, “We will be fine.”

  She’d given him a small smile, but it felt like a lie.

  Now they walked. The only thing that kept her warm was the movement. She feared what would happen when they stopped. The trees were getting sparser. Sometimes they were exposed completely. The only trees were thick-trunked pines with branches that grew facing the bottom of the mountain.

  Polya shivered when the wind blew her skirts around her ankles and up to her knees. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she walked a little faster. Anatoliy swung back to look at her, and she smiled to reassure him.

  He stopped, stood on his hind legs, and surveyed the hill; she turned to see what he saw.

  Trees.

  She saw trees.

  A rumble began in his throat, and she glanced at him in confusion before looking back down the mountain, squinting and straining her neck.

  “What is it?”

  He only growled. A moment later, Polya heard a familiar whistling, a quiet pop, and the ground rumbled, like someone had dumped a wagon of stones on the earth.

  They both looked up the mountain. Ahead of them, far enough away that everything appeared small, a white puff, like a breath of air, bloomed against the blue sky.

  She heard the whistle again and pop, and the snow exploded in the air.

  “Their aim is horrible,” Polya said after the ground stopped shaking.

  Anatoliy pushed her with his head, back down the way they’d come.

  “They’re going to shoot at us, Anatoliy!”

  He pushed her again, and she was forced to start back down the mountain. She had just lifted her hands up and slapped them to her sides in frustration when she heard another pop, but a louder rumble. It grew louder and louder, making the air vibrate.

  Behind her, the mountain was falling down upon them.

  She met Anatoliy’s horrified eyes, and then they ran. Each footstep jarred her wounds. They split and opened, but she gritted her teeth and ran. Anatoliy was behind her, and she called over her shoulder. “Don’t wait for me!”

  He snarled, but didn’t go around her.

  The t
rees were packed together again. Polya couldn’t help but be frustrated they’d managed to undo all the distance they’d covered.

  Anatoliy nudged her in the back toward one of the thicker trees, and she knew what he wanted. She pulled her skirt between her knees and gripped it in her teeth before she leapt at the tree. She clawed and pulled herself up as fast as she could, as high as she could.

  He snarled, and she searched for him frantically. He’d climbed a tree as well, but he was larger and couldn’t go as high.

  “Anatoliy!” she screamed, as the thunder got louder. A sheet of ice, rock, and snow shifted underneath them. The tree swung wildly, and Polya wrapped her arms and legs around it, holding on as tightly as she could.

  His claws dug into the tree, but he didn’t have the flexibility she did. When the tree swung and the snow built up higher and higher, he was knocked off.

  She screamed for him. Her voice made no sound over the cacophony of rocks and broken limbs and snapping trunks.

  He fell into the snow. It closed over his head like water. She stared at the place he had landed as it rushed down the mountain side. For a moment longer, she held onto her tree, debating whether she could help him more by letting go or waiting for the avalanche to stop. Every second pulled him away, increasing her panic until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  She closed her eyes, and she jumped.

  Polya is Lost

  The snow captured Polya’s legs, and instead of dragging her under, as if she’d jumped in a river, it hardened and compressed around her. The snow raced against itself, the snow at her feet, at her knees, at her hips all going different speeds, pushing and pulling at her body. Her top was above the snow, but soon the roiling crystals trapped her arms. Polya held them up, shielding her face, trying to turn her body and kick her legs free of the snow.

  But she was held fast.

  She second-guessed her decision to jump, recognizing that she wouldn’t be able to escape. She would be frozen in time, buried beneath layers and layers of ice.