“You should eat it,” he said, now moving his head forward and nudging my hands with the tip of his nose again, guiding them toward the plant. The same way he had guided them to the fur behind his neck several hours ago.
“All right,” I said, even as I gulped. “Is it these bubbles that I’m supposed to eat?”
“The glands, yes.”
Glands… I preferred my description.
Gingerly, I closed my fingers around one of the bulbs at the tip and jerked it upward. It plucked off easily, like a ripe peach from a tree.
“You can eat it all,” he encouraged, still watching me closely.
I held my nose before quickly stuffing it into my mouth. I didn’t want to prolong this any further. As I chewed, the bubble’s rubbery surface burst and the snotty substance filled my mouth. I expected it to taste disgusting, but it didn’t taste like much at all. Just… slightly salty. It was more the texture of it as it glided down my throat.
Still, my wolf companion was not satisfied. He nudged my hands again to pluck another one, and then another, and another. Until I had eaten five in total.
“Ugh,” I spluttered, swallowing the last mouthful. “That’s enough.” I crawled back to the river to down some more water. When I turned, it was to see Bastien had taken the whole strand in his mouth, along with all the remaining bulbs, and chewed it all down in one go. Then he joined me for another drink.
I was not sure whether it was just my imagination, but I could’ve sworn that I felt more energized. I was about to ask him what was next when I caught sight of his face. He’d frozen, his ears perked up, and his eyes fixed on the trees behind us.
Fear rushed through me that he might’ve just spotted hunters, or even worse, one of their mutants. But then, a few seconds later, three brown wolves burst from the trees.
Bastien immediately surged forward, positioning himself in front of me as he growled and bared his fangs.
“What are you doing here?” Bastien snarled.
“On patrol for conniving hunters roaming our lands,” one of the intruders shot back. “What are you doing with one of them?”
Oh, crap. They think I’m a hunter. My uniform certainly did not help.
“She is not one of them,” Bastien hissed, the hair on his back prickling.
“Who else would she be?” another wolf growled, stepping forward. He had a wide scar slashed across his right eye.
“She is just a girl!” Bastien insisted.
The brown wolves were done with talking. To my horror, the three of them leapt toward us at once. With a strong thrust of his hind legs, Bastien sent me skidding across the grass and rolling into the river. The current immediately tugged me away, but I managed to grip the thick root of a tree that jutted out from the bank. I was safer down here than up there as Bastien took on the three wolves at once. He gnashed and thrashed with his jaws and claws, and although outnumbered, he was clearly the strongest of the four. In a blur of black and brown, one of the attacking wolves let out a groan of pain and darted backward. Where his right ear had been was a gaping wound dripping with blood. Bastien had torn it right off.
This caused the other two to cower back a bit.
“I said she is just a girl,” Bastien seethed.
They looked anything but convinced—still baring their teeth and growling—but it was clear that it was an empty threat. The injured one did not want to lose a second ear, and the other two did not want to lose a first. Besides, they would become men any time now. Day was on the verge of breaking. Slowly, they backed away into the trees. Then they turned around and scampered off.
I had expected my ankle to be positively burning by now. Although rolling and falling into the river had roughed it up, now that my legs were underwater, the cool water flowing against my ankle was soothing. Bastien bounded to the water’s edge, his eyes searching for me. On spotting me, he waded into the river and arrived next to me, allowing me to grip hold of his fur. Now that we were up close, I realized he hadn’t gotten away unscathed. He had a nasty gash in his shoulder, but he did not seem to notice as he returned with me to the bank. Then he said in a low voice, “Now, we must keep moving.”
Victoria
As we continued through the woods, I couldn’t help but ask him if he was okay. His wound was still bleeding freely. He just grunted in response. I guessed it couldn’t have been too serious because it did not seem to hamper his speed in the slightest.
Several more hours passed. Then the trees started thinning and, to my surprise, I realized that we had arrived at the shore. He bounded out onto a long stretch of pebbly beach. From the position of the sun, it seemed to be afternoon by now.
He ran across the beach, his hind legs kicking up a storm of stones, until it gave way to clusters of boulders. As he began to clamber over them, I had to pay more attention than ever. I was forced to ask him to slow down on several occasions because I almost slid right off. Soon, a cliffside came into view. A cliffside that appeared to be pockmarked with cave entrances. Traveling over the last of the boulders, we arrived at a small, even patch of beach that led up to the entrance of a tunnel.
“Keep your head down,” he instructed before we went hurtling through it. I ducked only just in time. The tunnel was alarmingly narrow, and although I wasn’t prone to claustrophobia, I found myself struggling to breathe. The tunnel wound around and around in dizzying twists and turns. I was relieved when we reached the end of it and emerged in an enormous, yet empty, cavern. Here, Bastien stopped short. His breath hitched and his eyes widened.
“How could nobody be here?” he gasped, his gravelly voice echoing around the cave.
“This is the hideout?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I… I can’t understand it. Those humans could not have taken down all of us. I know for a fact that some survived.”
“What if they just went… somewhere else?”
Bastien shook his head. “They wouldn’t have had time to establish another lair in the time I’ve been gone. And this has been our hideout for centuries.” He began circling the cave, even as he sniffed the walls and floors. When he raised his head again, he looked even more disturbed. “Nobody has set foot in here for over a year.”
“What if they just returned to your lair?” I wondered.
“Return to our lair?” he repeated. “After the hunters had located and raided it? Who in their right mind would…”
He trailed off, as though a thought had just struck him. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, contemplative. “You’re right. I should check back there… Maybe they really were so foolish.”
After casting one last look around the cave, he darted out. We traveled back along the sickeningly winding tunnel and returned out in the open.
As he began making his way back over the rocks, I asked, “How far is your lair from here?”
To my relief, he replied, “Not far.”
* * *
Of course, “not far” was a subjective term. “Not far” to Bastien translated into another two or three hours of this bumpy ride. We traveled primarily through more woodland. I was sure that by the time I eventually returned home from The Woodlands—if I ever got out of this mess—I would be thoroughly sick of forests and trees.
The sun was almost dipping behind the horizon by the time we emerged from the woods into a clearing. We had arrived near the foot of a range of towering gray mountains. Bastien slowed to a trot, his breathing suddenly labored. His eyes were wide again, his ears perked and alert. I could only imagine how traumatic returning to this place was for him.
“Hunters could still be here,” he whispered, sniffing the air. “Though I do not detect them. It’s possible, I suppose, that they have somehow made their scent undetectable to wolves… I know these hunters to be capable of such witchcraft. We must go slowly.”
I wasn’t about to argue with that. Now that he had slowed down, I was able to sit upright and stretch my aching back.
We passed a scattering o
f clothes, discarded on the ground—clothes that belonged to men and women alike. Pants, dresses, shirts, all of them torn and ripped. This appeared to be a spot where many shifters had transformed into their wolf forms at once. To my surprise, Bastien lowered his head and collected between his teeth several tattered shirts and pairs of pants. Then he retreated with me behind a wide bush.
“Slide off me,” he requested.
I acquiesced, my knees feeling like jelly as my feet touched the ground. I gripped the bush for support.
“Wait here,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
I was frowning as he left me and disappeared around the bush, wondering what he was going to do. Still, I did not follow him. I did as he had requested and waited.
Bastien returned within a few minutes, but not in his wolf form. He stood before me now as a man, and as my eyes roamed his godlike physique, I realized why he had picked up the garments. He had tied them around his body in a makeshift fashion for modesty. He had also fastened a strip of pant fabric around his wounded shoulder.
As he approached me, it felt strange to see him as a man again. It felt almost like he was a different person, disjointed from the one I’d just spent the last half a day with. Now that he was cleaned up by the river water, and he stood before me in daylight, I could better make out his features. He really was… handsome.
Although everything else physical about him had changed in his metamorphosis, the expression in his eyes remained the same; the same look of care, of concern that I still didn’t understand. I was still as complete a stranger to him as he was to me.
I felt the blood rise to my cheeks a little as he reached out his hand for me to take. I slid my palm into his and he pulled me close to him as he led me around the bush and back toward the mountains. We trailed along the range’s border until we reached a large wooden door etched into the stone.
He left me standing a few feet away as he moved up to the door and pressed his ear against it. His eyes narrowed as he listened, and then his lips parted, surprise flashing across his face. I was burning to know what he could hear.
“What is it?” I whispered.
When he backed away from the door and returned to me, his thick brows were knotted in confusion. He took my hand again and led me up to the entrance. Then, balling his right hand into a fist, he banged against the door.
Footsteps sounded on the other side. The iron handle twisted. The door groaned open. Standing before us was another man—another werewolf, I could only assume. He was an older man, his hair speckled with gray, appearing around his mid-forties in human years. His jaw dropped open as he laid eyes on Bastien.
“Prince?” he gasped. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, and perhaps that was exactly what he thought, given that Bastien should have never escaped the hunters.
Bastien did not look any less shocked to see him. “What are you doing back here?” he breathed.
The guard’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He appeared speechless. “I… I… Let me take you to your cousin!”
“My cousin?” Bastien demanded. “Detrius is alive?”
“C-Come with me,” the guard said, grabbing hold of Bastien’s hand, before realizing that I stood next to him. His eyes had passed over me briefly when he’d first opened the door, but he’d seemed to barely give me a second thought, being so consumed with Bastien.
We entered the mountain, stepping into a surprisingly beautiful entrance chamber. The floors were made of sanded black stone, and rich, deep-colored tapestries hung from the walls. The guard hurried us toward a wide staircase. Even as Bastien harassed him with questions, the guard refused to give any answers, simply telling Bastien that he needed to speak with his cousin.
“Who else is alive?” Bastien growled.
“Just come,” the guard stammered. “Come.”
The guard sped up, and I was no longer able to keep up with them. Bastien grabbed me by the waist and hauled me over his shoulder so they could continue rushing forward at full speed. I was grateful that he was conscientious enough to not bang my ankle against anything.
I couldn’t see much from where I dangled upside down. And the blood rushing to my head did not help my vision either. All I knew was that we were rushing through more halls and corridors and passing dozens of other werewolves along the way. Bastien also called out questions to these people—like, “How are you all still here?” and “What in the name of The Woodlands happened?”—but all of them shied away from answering, deferring to Bastien’s mysterious cousin, just as the guard was doing.
Finally, we reached another door, and Bastien returned me to my feet.
The guard pushed the door open, and we stepped into a vast hall with a high, round ceiling. The place was windowless except for the wall to our left, where a wide window stretched the entire length of it from roof to floor. Shafts of evening light spilled through the glass, casting pale rays upon the rough walls, adorned with the hides of wolves hung like trophies. Conquered enemy wolves, I supposed. Wooden chairs surrounded the hall, and directly in front of us at the opposite end were stone steps leading to a raised altar upon which stood two black thrones, one larger and more elevated than the other.
A young man sat on the grander one. He didn’t share any likeness to Bastien with his stark blond, straight hair, and he wore a silver crown. An older man with a long white beard sat on the throne next to him. He appeared to be blind. A group of ten men surrounded them on lower chairs. Apparently they had been in the middle of a meeting.
As we barged in, they whirled to face us.
“Detrius,” Bastien breathed, his eyes fixed on the younger man.
“Bastien?” Detrius almost yelped in shock. As he shot to his feet, I could see that he was tall like Bastien—perhaps even taller—though his physique was narrower.
The two men’s gazes locked for several moments, and a chilling silence descended on the hall. Then Bastien gathered me to him before moving forward, while Detrius descended the stairs and approached too. Now that we were closer to Bastien’s cousin, I could make out his dark maroon-colored eyes.
Detrius’ expression was a cocktail of shock, alarm and… did I even detect panic? His eyes darted over his companions before he cleared his throat and forced a smile. He reached out and pulled Bastien into a hug. But Bastien didn’t return the embrace. He simply stood there, stiff, until his cousin let go of him.
When his cousin stepped back, Bastien’s eyes were on the crown atop Detrius’ head. His grip on my arm tightened. He looked more disconcerted than ever.
“What happened?” he asked. “How are you all here?”
“The humans left,” Detrius replied, his voice a tad raspier than Bastien’s, “and they didn’t return. We still don’t understand why, but having taken you, your father, mother and siblings they just… cleared off. We could only guess why, or where they took you.”
Bastien’s jaw clenched.
“We are so very sorry,” Detrius said softly. “We have done nothing but mourn since your departure.” He glanced over Bastien’s shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall. “Is your father back also?” he asked. “And what of your mother and siblings?”
Bastien swallowed hard before shaking his head grimly.
Detrius bowed slightly. “I’m so terribly sorry, cousin.”
There was another span of silence as Detrius moved forward to embrace him a second time. Bastien’s breathing was becoming steadily more uneven. He stepped back, forcing distance between them.
“But at least we have you back.” To my surprise, Detrius raised his hands to his head and, gripping the crown, pulled it off and placed it in Bastien’s hands. “This crown belongs to you, cousin. As does the throne.”
I glanced over to the empty throne and to the blind man next to it, still sitting, his face panned vaguely in our direction.
“My father and I were left with a crumbling kingdom,” Detrius went on. “We have done all that we can to organize oursel
ves since you left… How did you escape?”
“I managed to overpower the two hunters as they transitioned me from one cage to another,” Bastien replied.
Huh?
Finally, Detrius’ attention fell on me. “And who is this young woman you have with you?” He frowned deeply. “A human?”
“Yes,” Bastien replied stiffly.
“Who is she? Where did you—?”
“I found her among the humans, and I have since made her my concubine.”
My jaw dropped. Concubine? I stared at Bastien in bewilderment, but his eyes were still trained on his cousin.
Detrius nodded slowly, even as he himself looked rather confused. “I see,” he said, even though he clearly did not. Still, he did not press further.
Why would Bastien say I’m his concubine? And why lie about his escape?
“Now, if you would like—” Detrius went on.
“I would like to retire to my quarters,” Bastien interrupted again. “That is all I wish for right now.”
“Of course,” Detrius said. “Your quarters remain as they were—nobody has occupied them, at least not to my knowledge… your father’s, however, are being utilized by my father. I’m sure you understand,” he added. “We believed none of you were coming back.”
Bastien did not respond to this. Instead he just swept me toward the exit, leaving Detrius to hurry along after us. “Allow me to escort you,” he said.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I gaped up at Bastien, wishing he would meet my eyes. I did not know this man at all, and I found myself wondering whether I had gotten completely the wrong end of the stick regarding what he had intended me for all along. But too many things simply didn’t make sense to jump to that conclusion. I had no choice but to stay silent as we made our way upward through the levels of the mountain castle, until we stopped at what I guessed was the very top, in front of a mahogany door. Here, Bastien set me down on my feet before turning to his cousin, his father’s crown still gripped firmly in his right hand.
“I do not wish to be disturbed for the rest of the night,” he said. “But tomorrow morning, I will take up the throne.”
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