A Wolf of Ice and Iron [OLD]

Chapter 2

Adras

I'm woken by a faint scratching at the door. It's probably Erenn trying to break into my room to force me to tell him a story, but I can't lie that I'm unsettled. It doesn't sound like a person scratching at the door.

I make my way over to the door from the couch. I slept in a pile of pillows and fur blankets, and I'm groggy from my recent slumber. But I make it to the door just fine and I open it a crack.

Nothing there.

With a frown, I tiptoe down the stairs. It's dark, and the candles are out. Not a single thing is lit inside the house. I'm used to it, because I go downstairs, alone, at night, all the time. But something is off.

The scratching has stopped. I go to the windows and look outside at the gardens.

It's peaceful, tranquil, kind. I love the gardens. The moon shines down onto the pond that is frozen over, and it casts a sharp glow onto the plants beside it. It's a sanctuary of mine.

I walk out the door, brushing my hand along the dark wood. The outside world is cold and dark, and when I breathe mist clouds in front of me, silent and chilly. My skin prickles and my hair stands up along my exposed neck. Winter is on its way.

I explore the garden, momentarily forgetting the sound I'd heard, the real purpose I'm out here. The garden makes me feel at peace, more than a lot of things do. During the night it is quiet and soft under my feet, and cold and sharp and it makes me feel things more than anything else does. I don't always... like the feelings, but it's good to know I still have them.

I forget all about the strange noises for a while. I run my hands across the roses, sprinkling crisp rose petals onto the dewy grass. I breath out a sigh and spot the mist rising out of my mouth, and then begin a game of dragon's breath with myself, ignoring the pinch of sadness in my chest as I remember Erenn and I playing this game together.

In fact, all my siblings and I used to play this game. And... dad. We used to play it too. He'd laugh at me and lift me up in the air, and sometimes I cried when I couldn't make the mist patterns my older siblings could. But he'd help me with it, and then I wouldn't cry.

I shake my head stiffly, wiping my eyes that aren't as damp as I'd thought. But they hurt. I don't... want to think about dad, but at the same time I think about him a lot. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the family who really thinks about him anymore.

Scrrtch scrritch

I startle, jumping a few feet to the side. It's the same noise that I heard earlier, only louder. And something is making a high-pitched whine, reminding me of... well, I don't really know. But it's reminding me of something, for sure.

I frown once I've overcome my shock and surprise at the sound. The scratching continues, until I can identify it as a more scraping sort of sound instead. I try to follow it, but I'm led to every corner of the garden and I can't find it. My curiosity is piqued and my patience is wearing, but it isn't thin. I've always been patient.

I stare into the forest that borders the fence. The fence mum built is small and can be easily hopped, and I'm surprised I'm given that much trust to not run away. In a small town, the minds and imaginations of the people can be small beside it. But I've always hoped mine could be a little bigger. Maybe one day.

Mum doesn't think I'd ever run away. And if I'm brutally honest with myself, I think she's right. I'm too cowardly to live on my own, and I would have to. My siblings would never come with me, and I don't have friends in the village across the river where we go to buy our food.

Erenn would want to come with. But I wouldn't take him out of a place where he can get food and warmth and love to wherever I'd go. I don't think I'd go to where another person would be. I wouldn't condemn Erenn to a lonely life. He doesn't deserve it.

The scraping, scratching noise abruptly stops, and I feel uneasy without it. I'd grown used to it in the passing minute where it was present, and now it has disappeared without a trace into the trees that are holding their breath. I stand perfectly still, a statue in a garden, until the whine appears again.

Then it stops, too. Thoroughly confused and on edge, I skitter through the garden on the balls of my feet. Trying my best to be silent, but I'm leaving a path through the dew and crunching petals and grass under my bare toes. But the noise is a natural one, and I could be a human as much as I could be a squirrel or a lynx finding adventure in a rose garden.

Is that a being I sense...?

I stop. Voices in the winds, rustling through trees, but very much real. I should not venture further to find the source of noise, but my curious mind overtakes my rationality. I should not try to find the source, since the forest is rampant with faeries and strange creatures that would kill to get their claws on a human.

But I'm curious enough to ignore my family's warnings of the fae and the forest to continue my search. And it turns out I don't have to search for long.

Behind the patch of tulips mum just planted the other day and beside the oak tree that stretches over her pitiful fence, lies an animal bathed in open moonlight.

Stars glimmer in its pale fur, and its glowing Amber eyes search my face. Intelligent and strong, those eyes see no hostility, and the creature gives an exhausted huff and its eyes dip out of sight.

A noble muzzle dips to the earth, black nose inflated. Its starry coat is speckled with red, blood full of a stinking copper smell. I stumble at first, then fall at its side. The moonlight bathes me, too, and the stars fall to my arms as well.

Up close the beast is even more magnificent. At least half my size and comprised of steady muscle and graceful bone structure, I know exactly what it is. Wolf. It is not uncommon to see them, but they are dangerous animals. They've killed their fair share of villagers and stolen nearly all of my brothers' catches before they returned home.

I should be terrified of this animal. It's eyes are dark and foreboding, a light in the darkness, and they do not leave mine. If this wolf is a faerie, it is even more dangerous. I should leave it to die here where it is bleeding, rather than try to help it.

But instead I gently touch its side, the blood and fur matting my fingers. The beast gives an ominous growl, and my hands jerk back. But it watches me as I return to touching the seeping wound, and it does not growl this time. It watches, intelligent and curious, as I examine the wound.

It is deep, and more gashes run along its legs. A vicious wound on its head I dare not touch. What could have been brave enough to harm a wolf in these forests is unknown to me, and what kind of creature makes such marks is yet also unknown. But I do not fear the unknown. I lean back, staring at the creature. The wise amber eyes meet mine as I speak.

"I'm going to help you," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "But you have to follow me into that house." I point at the home I emerged from, and the wolf stares at me and then at my finger.

The beast gives a great shudder and a mournful whine that pierces my mind. I have to get the animal inside somehow, but I shouldn't touch it just yet. It won't trust me. And if it is a faerie, then I can't risk getting bound to it. I shift uncomfortably on the ground.

The wolf stares at me, blinks once. Then moves its great muzzle and touches my hand with its cool nose, leaving smears of red on my fingers. It has agreed.