by Deirdra Eden
I made my way to the edge of the clearing by the stream. The tall grass waved around me like sheets of emerald silk. I noticed a shepherd standing in the center of the meadow, watching a small flock of sheep.
I ducked low in the grass.
The shepherd scanned the woods with a wary eye. People traded news on the main roads, and the whole countryside was probably looking for me by now. Everyone thought I was a witch.
I crawled through the foliage toward a willow tree and pulled back the vines like a curtain. I sat in the grotto of twisted roots dipping into the stream and put my lips to the water. I drank and wiped my mouth on my only remaining sleeve. I sat against the tree and pulled my knees to my chest.
I still couldn’t believe it. How could they accuse me of being a witch? That place had been my home my entire life. The villagers knew my parents before they died. I was not evil.
I wiped my eyes with my fingertips, then cupped a handful of water from the stream and bathed my dirty feet. The water momentarily stung the cuts as I washed out the dirt.
A branch snapped behind me. I whirled around. My eyes darted toward the dense woods. The trees stood still as if holding their breath. Opaque clouds moved across the sun, and the world dimmed around me. The air grew icy cold. My warm breath hit the frigid air and rose from my lips like white fog. Something was wrong.
I stood and peered out of my fortress of foliage. Black smoke billowed through the woods, enveloping everything in mists of darkness.
Fear paralyzed my body, and my heart sprinted.
"Wolves, wolves!" the shepherd cried out.
Wolves descended from the woods and flooded the meadow. Their matted fur stuck out in every direction like black spikes.
A wolf lunged for the sheepdog and viciously shook it. It was then I realized how big the black wolves really were. They were the size of oxen, but moved with swift predatory hunger. The sheepdog struggled to free itself from the massive jaws of the black wolf.
The savage pack tore into the flock, their fangs sliced through white wool, now splattered in red blood. Lamb carcasses lay strewn about the ground. The wolves were not there to eat, but to kill.
I huddled close to the tree. I closed my eyes, but couldn’t shut out the horrible mix of howling wolves and bleating sheep.
Hot breath washed over my neck. My eyes sprang open. I whirled around.
Black flames billowed off the alpha wolf, and its savage eyes flashed like crimson brimstone. The beast snarled, unveiling lethal teeth.
The image of the sheepdog struggling in a piercing grip flashed across my mind. I fell back and slid away.
"Don't try to run," the Shadow Wolf spoke in a deep, masculine voice. "We know who you are."
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded that the beast was speaking to me. How many more nightmares would spring to life today? I tried to scream, but mists of darkness caught in my throat and suffocated my cry.
"That's right," the wolf growled. "You have no idea how many centuries we've waited for you." He lunged toward me.
I threw my arms over my head and slammed the heel of my foot into the snapping muzzle. The wolf latched onto my leg and shook. My flesh ripped opened in jagged tears. Adrenalin and heat rushed through my veins. My body pulsed with pain and the thumping of my heart pounded in my ears. I shrieked and tried to pull my mangled leg from the powerful jaw. He yanked back and buried his teeth deeper into my skin.
My fingers strained and sank into the earth. The Shadow Wolf dragged me back into the Forbidden Forest. My hands smoldered with heat and streams of smoke rose from my fingertips as I clawed at the ground.
My face pressed against the cold dirt floor of an unfamiliar, dim room. I took a breath of dusty air, laced with the thick scent of rotting wood and mold. I coughed out the bitter taste of decay. Pain shot through my bones like hot metal. I strained for my mangled leg, but leather straps held my wrists together. Dark blood spotted the filthy bandages lining my calf.
I held my breath. My eyes darted around the room. Where was the wolf? Why hadn’t I been killed? Why were my hands bound? Who would hold an injured girl captive?
Rows of dusty, knotted pine shelves held jugs and glass bottles of all sizes. Gnarled roots dangled from cracks in the ceiling. I writhed, struggling to free my hands until the straps cut into my wrists. A fireplace smoldered with amber and crimson coals pulsing through the ash. The only sunlight came from a tiny, dim window full of cobwebs.
“This is not a good place to be,” I whispered to myself. I put the leather straps between my teeth and gnawed on the taste of salt and dirt, trying to free myself as I searched the cluttered room for a way out.
I saw two doorways. The first was dark, as if leading to some abyss, but bright sunlight beamed like a halo between the edges of the other door.
I opened my mouth and dabbed the bad taste of old leather on the sleeve of my dress. I could get the straps off later, but first I needed to get far away from this place.
I pushed myself off the floor to stand. Pain shot through my bandaged leg and gripped my stomach with pure agony, threatening to make me vomit. I fell back and sank into a beast of shadowy fur and powerful muscles.
Red eyes and wicked teeth contrasted with the long, black snout and matted fur of the Shadow Wolf. I shrieked, causing the spiders in the window to flee to the corner.
I jolted away from the wolf and scurried across the dirt floor on my forearms. My injured leg dragged behind me like dead weight. The wounds reopened and fresh blood soaked through the bandages. I knew I was going to be eaten this time.
I lifted my bound hands over my head and braced myself for another attack. When nothing happened, I took several short breaths and opened one eye.
The wolf’s tongue hung lifeless from a gaping jaw of blood-stained teeth. I had no doubt the blood was mine.
The dark wooden door in the back of the cottage screeched open on broken hinges. A shriveled old woman rushed toward me with an erratic stride. “Yer awake! What be yer name?” The hag seemed excited and paid no attention to the massive wolf lying in a crushed heap on the floor.
I pointed at the evil beast. I couldn’t catch my breath to press out audible words.
With one hand, the old woman grasped the massive wolf and shook it like an old coat. “Yes, it be dead. It tried ta kill ye, it did. But I, Hazella Lamia, saved ye.”
The wolf’s corpse was bigger than Hazella, but the old woman held it like it was weightless. “I sees this old wolf tryin’ ta eat ye in the woods. I crushed its skull in, I did.” Hazella gripped the wolf’s leg and snapped it back to prove her point.
Hazella smiled, showing a mouth of jagged teeth. She pressed the wolf’s body against the table and swung a knife into it. “Now we be eatin’ it,” Hazella cackled. A crazed look danced in the old hag’s colorless eyes as she ripped the flesh from the wolf and tossed it into the pot over the fire.
“Be ye hungry?” Hazella asked in a tactless, cheery tone. I covered my nose to muffle the smell of Hazella’s rancid clothing covered in blood and sewage.
I had to find a way to escape. I glanced at the door leading outside. Maybe I could fight through the pain of my mangled leg and run.
The old woman twisted her lips and squinted. “I don’t needs no troublemakers or liars. I know yer hungry. See this here necklace?” With the bloody knife, Hazella tapped a brilliant ruby necklace hanging over her sagging bosom. “This here necklace is gettin’ old, and I needs ta make a new one. The problem be those pixies. Until I gets a new one, I needs yer help. Once I gets it, then I will leave ye where I found ye, if yer a good girl.” The last words trailed from her lips like a threat.
I couldn’t imagine how I could help the old woman. The hag was so strong, while I couldn’t even walk.
Hazella hobbled toward the sooty pot, filled a bowl with steaming wolf stew, then dropped it in front of me. “Eat. It’ll help ye ta feel better, or I’ll give ye ta the wolves now.”
I couldn’t fight off the old w
oman. Hazella could snap a bone in two like a piece of dry straw. I had to come up with some kind of escape plan.
Hazella swung her knife toward me. The knife whistled through the air and slit the leather straps between my wrists. I jumped and slid back. The hag held the knife ready at her side and eyed me in the same inhuman way the Shadow Wolf had. “What be yer name, girl?”
I rubbed my raw wrists. “I’m no one, just a servant.” I wasn’t about to give a crazy woman my real name. “Everyone just calls me girl,” I answered.
Hazella put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “I’m just a servant too, and I wants to know why this here Shadow Wolf was takin’ ye ta Lord Erebus.” Hazella pointed to the lifeless wolf lying skewered across the table. Its bowels spilt like red noodles to the floor.
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t think of any reason why Lord Erebus, leader of the Shadow Legion, would want me. I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I answered.
Hazella tilted her head and eyed me with one bulging eye as if trying to look into my soul. “Very well, girl. Ye must be my servant now and never try ta leave nor go beyond sight of this here cottage, or the hungry wolves will eat ye.” Hazella plopped into a chair next to the fire and sipped on her Shadow Wolf stew. “We be sisters you and I,” Hazella muttered casually.
I stared at the wolf stew in front of me and pretended to be interested in eating it. Hazella was the oldest person I had ever seen before. How could the crazy witch think we were sisters?
“Yes,” Hazella hissed. Her gnarled fingers strained like claws around her bowl. “Sisters of power. We ‘ave more in common then ye know.”
Autumn leaves crunched under my bare feet. Despite the hideous scar on my calf, my leg had healed well since the wolf attack last spring.
Yet, even though the wound looked better, I flexed my feet back and stretched the repairing tendons and muscles each night. I still walked with a marked limp, but soon I would be able to run again.
I swung an empty bucket in my hand and enjoyed the crisp air as I walked to the stream. Like magic, the summer had changed to autumn; and, despite my situation, I sensed a magical change was about to happen in my own life as well. My heart burned in anticipation.
“Hurry up, girl!” Hazella screeched from the cottage doorway.
I quickened my pace and dropped the empty bucket into the stream. My leg should be strong enough by winter to run away, but the wolves were always hungry and the most aggressive during the winter. That meant I would have to wait until next spring.
“Ye better hurry,” Hazella yelled again. “Them wolves eat bad children who wander too far from home.”
I wanted to be cheeky and say, “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a child,” but I wouldn’t let myself take a chance of standing up to her. I had to keep pretending to be the victim. The old woman had the strength of an army and the mind of a lunatic. Catching Hazella off guard was the only way I could escape.
I seized the pail from the stream and hobbled dramatically so Hazella wouldn’t know how well I was healing. Water sloshed in my bucket, but I tried my best not to spill. I knew if I lost even a drop, Hazella would shriek like a banshee until noon.
Hazella’s dugout cottage blended in with the forested landscape. Only the smoky stone chimney made its own statement—sticking prominently out of the knoll. Grasses and wildflowers grew along the roof and up the hill. Autumn leaves whirled around me in a dance. I took long deep breaths, soaking in the sights and smells of the crisp, deep woods before I would have to go back into the dark underground prison.
Hazella stood in the doorway with her familiar scowl. She tapped her foot and clenched a limber reed in her hand.
I made my expression solemn, bit my lip, and lowered my head.
Hazella swatted the reed across my legs. “Enough of yer lazy day dreamin’. There be no time ta waste, girl.”
I repressed the sting and set the bucket next to the pile of firewood. The door to the back room hung open on its worn hinges. I peered into the forbidden room, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever mystery Hazella hid in there.
Hazella stepped in front of my gaze and slammed the door shut. Dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling. I lowered my head to protect my eyes from the debris. Hazella’s wrinkled face flamed into a red scowl. The witch waved her arms and shouted a line of profanities while pointing to things in the cottage that needed to be cleaned, refilled, or repaired.
“In the villages, they boil and behead people that be lazy, foolish, and troublemakin’.” Hazella gripped the dull axe and hurled it at me. The heavy blade propelled through the air.
I dropped to the ground and covered my head with my hands. The axe whizzed past my ear and struck the rotting wall with a thud. Wood chips showered my hair and bounced off the dirt floor.
I looked at the axe, buried deep in the wood, and I clenched my hands into fists. The axe could easily have split my skull instead of imbedding itself in the wall.
Leaving the cottage during the winter didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. Frustration burned in my chest. I shouldn’t be here and didn’t deserve to be treated like an animal–worse than an animal. If my leg hadn’t been injured, I would have run away last spring when I came to this wretched hole in the ground. I blinked hard and focused on fighting back angry tears. Crying only made Hazella irate.
“Ye must work extra hard today, girl,” Hazella threatened. “I be havin’ a delivery fer the villages tomorrow.”
“A delivery?” I perked up. Was Hazella finally leaving me unguarded at the cottage? I wasn’t strong enough to run away this time, but maybe when Hazella returned and saw me still at the cottage, she would leave me alone for a longer period next time. That’s when I would escape.
Hazella pointed a withered finger at me. “If I don’t get them potions ta the villages in time, people will die, and it’ll be yer fault.”
I rose to my feet, pressed my back to the wall next to the axe, and glanced at the door.
Hazella lunged forward and shook her fist in my face. “If ye wish ta die, feel free ta leave the cottage. There be plagues in the villages so terrible men fall on their swords ta be free of their sufferin’. There be wars between them villagers. Men kill each other in mass slaughters ‘cause they be hungry, and there be not enough food ta go around.” Hazella’s eyes shifted erratically. “No, I wouldn’t set foot in the villages if I didn’t need the gold. It be no place fer a child.”
I clenched my jaw. The village I had come from wasn’t that bad, although they did boil people they thought were witches … like me. A wave of hopelessness rushed over me as I remembered how I was betrayed by my own village. I bit my lip. My own village. I no longer had a home to escape to. I was truly alone. “I’m sorry,” I murmured to Hazella.
“No, yer not. Yer never sorry.” Hazella pulled a heavy book from the shelf above the fireplace. She flipped through the worn, yellowing pages and squinted to see the faded ink. She never bothered to re-scribe the book, because she wanted to destroy it after she memorized her recipes. Hazella muttered the words under her breath as she pointed to the shelf, “Fetch me them toad toes.”
I limped to the shelf and retrieved a jar. Hazella examined the jar before sprinkling the toes into the bowl. I plugged my nose and squinted. Hopefully, I would never get sick with whatever this potion cured.
Hazella mixed the ingredients together. She poured it into a glass bottle before handing it to me. “Now put this in my bag fer the trip ta the villages.”
I set the potion into the bag. “Is healing people your power?” I asked. It was an honest question. I didn’t think Hazella would actually respond.
Hazella’s eyes bulged unevenly. She turned to her book. “I can heal and destroy,” Hazella murmured. “If I be an Immortal, I’d be ten times stronger than I am now. I wouldn’t need this here necklace ta make me young.”
I watched the ruby necklace swing like a pendulum as Hazella bent over the book. How could she think the necklace m
ade her look young?
“I don’t think the necklace is working,” I said.
Wood grated against the hard-packed dirt as Hazella picked up a chair and threw it at me. I lunged to the side and huddled against the door. The chair hit the wall in an explosion of splinters. Several glass bottles fell from the shelves and shattered on the floor.
“But I be still strong,” Hazella seethed. “It’s what I have left of my hundred years of youth. I needs a new necklace.” Hazella shook the necklace as if trying to get the last ingredients out of a glass bottle. “It be the easiest way I can become an immortal bride.”
