Red and Her Wolf

Chapter One

(Vennik)

Hidden behind walls of stone, weary eyes gazed down upon the village below. Men, women, and children scurried through the heat of the late afternoon sun. They each had a purpose. They each had a set task before them, ones they were anxious to complete before sundown. Vennik envied them this.

His mind shifted for a moment, thoughts turning to the past he could never escape. The gouged crevices decorating his back, long since healed, still brought with them painful memories. All it took was a glance in the mirror, the ashen look of pure terror on a child's face, to remind him what he truly was. Even if the villagers did not have a name for it.

The massive wolf of a man had stumbled upon the village by pure accident. In a drunken stupor, he'd bet a man at a tavern a few miles from here, that he could enter the rumored haunted forest and remain alive to tell the tale. Of course, he knew it was not haunted. Ghosts and ghouls were simply figments of mead-laden minds.

Imagine his surprise when he'd found not ghouls and goblins but a thriving village. Unaccustomed to strangers, he'd not received a warm reception. They hadn't chased him from their company with pitchforks and torches either which was a welcomed relief on his part. So, he had chosen to stay.

The house he now resided in was abandoned. So he'd simply moved in. He'd hired some local workers to help restore it. They were grateful for the income. Alas, rumors had begun to spread. They did not speak these rumors to his face but he was not immune to their whispers, the way they would duck their heads in fear upon the very sight of him. For that reason alone, he chose to stay within his residence.

There was one resident that did not seem to fear him as others did. The villagers called her Granny...though some referred to her as Witch. Her reputation was that of a healer to most. Others presumed she'd made a pact with the Devil. To him, she was simply a healer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The shuffle of clothed feet drew his attention. A girl of no more than sixteen hovered in the arched doorway that led to his study. Vennik recognized her as the daughter of one of his house servants...though he could not recall either of their names. She refused to meet his gaze, sheer terror etched across her delicate features.

Vennik said nothing. He leaned against his desk, arms folded across his broad chest, awaiting the moment she chose to speak. Her behavior didn't surprise him. Many acted as she did. He didn't blame them. He was a stranger to them.

He watched her throat constrict, the frail child swallowing her fear of him. He was not prepared for what he saw. The perfect imprint of someone's hand bruised into her flesh sent a spark of rage within Vennik. His grip tightened against the desk, jaw clenching.

She mistook his sudden fury as being directed toward her. She took a step back. Vennik removed himself from the desk.

"Do not fear, child. I mean you no harm."

Her eyes darted back and forth. She did not believe him. Life had not been kind to her. The tips of his fingers brushed against the length of her jaw, his head tilting slightly.

"Who has done this to you? Tell me and I can promise they will not live to see another sunrise."

She blinked once, twice, a third time before she managed to speak, "P-please, sir. Do not harm my Papa. He...he is all I have...left..." Her hand rose to her bruised cheek, "Tis my fault, sir. Truly. I should not...have angered him so."

Her father was employed in his household. And, judging from the uniform she wore, so was she. His jaw clenched. He knew what it was to have no one in the world, to be completely dependent on the charity of others.