Verboten Lust

Prologue

The horses neighed as their hooves smacked against the wet dirt. Rain pelted against the darkened windows of the carriage as it sped through the forest. Time was running out, the sun would be up soon. "How much farther Wilham?"

"Just around this bend madam." Branches scratched against the sides of the coach as the coachman whipped the horses to go faster. Finally the carriage pulled to a halt in front of a disheveled cottage. Pine trees framed the house of wood, hiding it in the darkness almost as if it were a mirage. The coachman opened the door and placed a stool on the ground in front of it. A caramel colored hand was placed into the hand of the servant.

"Thank you Wilham. Wait here." The mother adjusts her hood and walked to the start of the worn wooden steps. She inspected the cabin, saw the unsturdy roof made of straw and the splintered planks of timber that held it together. In front of her the creaked door sounded.

The battered piece of wood swung open as an eerie voice coupled with age called out, "I've been expecting you. Come in, my Queen." The mother clutched her bundle closer to her bosom and proceeded inside.

"How did you know I was coming?" The mother wondered inspecting the room.

"Does not matter. What is the possession?" The old hag questioned and slammed the door behind the mother. The baby cried as the mother rocked the baby. The old woman held out her pruned hand and the mother placed a pendant the shape of the moon in her palm.

The hag ran the pendant under her nose with a deep inhale, her eyes rolled with excitement. "The child." Although wary, the mother removed her cloak from covering the bundle she held in the crook of her arm to reveal a baby. "How beautiful she is," the hag crooned. "What name have you given her?"

The mother stared down at her daughter lovingly, "Victoria," she sighed. She caressed her petal soft skin with the curve of her knuckle and smiled. Victoria stirred in her sleep and latched on to her finger. The old woman swiftly picked up the child. By the time the mother rose from her seat, the witch was already on the other side of the room. "Sit!" The hag ordered, seating her with a flick of her wrist.

The mother's chair shook as she gripped it's wooden arms, slightly wincing from the miniscule pieces of lumber she could feel needling her skin. Her breathing was shaky as the hag walked around the spacious room with her new born daughter. A laugh the sound of a cackling hyena and the croak of a toad ravished her ears. "I won't hurt her my Queen, the ritual just requires a drop," the hag pricked the child's finger with the tip of her gnarled nail, "of blood."

A crimson tear dripped from the needle point of bone onto the pendant. The hag gave the baby back to her mother who now guarded her daughter protectively. She pressed her back against the chair as much as she could when the mother framed her daughter's face with a curved hand. The woman's milky eyes watched the baby as she glided to the other side of the table. Her fascination with her baby frightened the mother.

"The sun is almost up and this is her first full moon. If the ritual does not work there is nothing I can do." The hag filled a rawhide pouch with the petals of the an alabaster rose, the obscure dirt of the forest floor, and finally the pendant. She pressed the bag between her withered hands and raised it up to the sky. From a hole in the roof, the light of the full moon washes over her.

An almost celestial glow circled the old woman and shined brighter around the pouch in her hands. White pupils adorn her eyes as she began to speak in a language the woman did not understand. She carefully opened the sack and brought it to her dry cracked lips, breathing an icy puff of air into it. Her eyelids began to tremble and with a sharp look at the woman her eyes shot open, "It is done."

The mother gathered the sack that enclosed the pendant inside and wrapped her baby tighter in her blanket. Quickly she jumped up from the wooden chair prickled with splinters. The boards of the floor creaked as she scurried to the front door careful not to look back. The hag crackled, "you are to pay for your sins. I am not that easy to kill, my Queen," as the front door swung open with a gust of wind for the woman and the baby. The full moon shined on the baby's twinkling eyes as they made haste to the carriage. The mother held her baby close to her bosom blocking her from the sudden harsh pour of rain.

Once they were safely secured inside the carriage, she spoke the few words that secured her baby's birthright. "Burn the witch." With a nod the coachman threw the torches he held onto the porch of the cabin. The fire ignited swiftly and the shack began to cave in on itself. The screams of the witch is forever imprinted in the Queen's mind, ringing through her ears and waking her in the depths of night.

Nothing was impossible for a wolf to protect its pup. Nothing.