The Wolves of Bellrose

Chapter One

The wind howled bitterly into the frigid night, snow flurries carried away with it. A cloaked stranger hurried to a busy inn stationed at the small towns crossroad, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his torn and worn cloak. He stood before the building with a grim smile, the shadows of the night concealing his face partially from view.

As he entered the inn the fire in the large fireplace across from the entry danced and waved wildly, as if to alert everyone that someone had entered the toasty building. Boisterous conversation died down to a lull as the stranger took a seat at the far back of the inn, where the shadows followed and concealed him from curious eyes. The stranger did not take his coat off despite the oppressive heat in the packed tavern, but only ordered a plate of food and a cool mug of ale to wash it down with. As the other customers realised the stranger was no threat to them they returned to their loud drinking and yelling.

Twenty minutes later another cloaked stranger appeared, but this time the stranger had fresh blood sparkling upon her muddy coat. All the men in the tavern took notice as she approached the man who had come in earlier. He did not look up from his meal as the woman sat across from him.

"Do you know who I am?" The woman had a beautiful French accent and a mysterious sparkle in her deep brown eyes.

"Do you know who I am." Was the only reply from the cloaked man. His voice was rough, gravelly, as if unused to being used. A faint accent traced his words, although the woman could not place where it was from.

"I hear that your name is Blackbird. That you are a famed hunter of fell things in the night," the woman said as she removed her long coat. The men in the tavern could only gasp and sputter in surprise; she wore mens clothing, with weapons strapped to her thighs, arms and along a weapon belt slung low upon her waist. Even the man across from her looked up from his meal long enough to gape.

"Woman what are you doing in a mans clothes? Steal it from him did you? Ill get you for him!" A very drunk, fat man yelled from across the room as he tottered towards where the two strangers were seated. The woman looked at him and with a derisive snort rolled her eyes at his astoundingly slow progress across the floor.

"So, do you know who I am?" The woman asked eagerly again to the man across from her.

"I do not think I do. Please enlighten me," he invited, his expression smooth and cool, though his steel grey eyes were still filled with disbelief. The woman smiled smugly at him as she crossed her arms and leaned upon the table between them.

"I am Alouette Bellrose. I am a hunter just as you are, I believe," she flicked her bound hair over her shoulder, her eyes darting to the drunkard still making his way to them, though he was close enough for her to smell the stench that hung around him like a death shroud. She grimaced as she looked back to the stranger.

"Are you sure you are such?" He asked incredulously, his dark eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Perhaps a demonstration will prove to you who I am and what I am capable of," she smirked as she sprung from her chair to meet the drunkard. He reached a meaty hand towards her and she swayed out of the way. The drunkards wild eyebrows lowered in frustration as she again danced away from his slow reaching grip. Her bell-bird laugh trilled throughout the tavern as she eluded the drunkard for a third time.

The next time however, the drunkard swung a surprisingly heavy fist towards her face. The stranger who was sitting across from her shouted his alarm and began to rise from his seat, but Alouette simply ducked under the uncoordinated punch as if she had seen it happening miles away.

Then she went on the offensive, her hands up by her head to protect her face as she delivered a series of blinding jabs at the drunkard. The drunkard fell back step after step after step until he fell in a heap against the wall next to the tavern entry. Alouette looked up from the injured man, barely out of breath, glowered at the rest of the men in the tavern and made her way back to the table where the stranger was once again seated.