Back at the village, Lucy's body, cleaned but severely disfigured, lays at home on a bed full of hay with her face covered and her hands peacefully folded on top of her navel. From her bed, Mina silently spies down below as she sees that one by one the villagers slowly make their way into her home with a single candle offering their deepest condolences.
She watches as her parents stand in the corner in front of the fireplace holding each other. She watches as her mother cries endlessly into her father's chest and how he pulls her mother closer, embracing her deeply with a strong but pained expression. She watches...emotionless, tear-dried, and weak.
Why did this have to happen to us? Mina thought. Why? she thought again, pulling her legs closer to her chest. With the fireplace peacefully but ironically crackling and the snowflakes mildly falling, slumber easily finds and lulls Mina to doze off. However, a gentle knock on the door pries her eyes wide open only for her to witness her soon-to-be husband and father-in-law paying their respects with candles in hand and faces full of sorrow.
With her parents in the same position as before, but now on sitting on a nearby couch, Tristan, after looking around, catches Mina's pained eyes through her bedroom door and realizes the emotional stress he brings by visiting. Though he means no harm, his being, a symbol of marriage, has no place in a time like this.
"Come father, let us let the women mourn in their own ways," Tristan says, quietly putting down the candles and exiting the house in a peaceful but swift manner.
Upon syncing her imagination with the crackles of the fireplace, Mina begins to remember the time when she had once spied upon him during the midst of his work. Behind the steel gates of his shop, she could still hear the "Clank! Clank! Clank!," of the hammer each time it made contact with the searing red metal, igniting infinitesimal sparks into the air and carrying a radiation of heat with it. Mina could also recall how the colors of soft silver, fiery red, and sweltering yellow complimented that of his features: his lean but muscular build, his sapphire-grey eyes, his sandy-red hair, and his gentle, warm personality.
A gentleman at heart, Mina pondered. But do I truly love him? she continuously questions, unconsciously pulling herself to sleep.
Outside within the village, as the bells and echoes of chaos continue to clamor from dusk until dawn, no villager sleeps peacefully that night...no one, despite the softly falling hum of sleet landing upon their rooftops.
Three months had passed. However, despite the recent death, everything had been quiet and back to normal, but if you were observant enough, you would notice that something about the atmosphere had changed. Something was different.
Was it that the prized livestock sacrifices increased to two times a day: one at dusk, one at dawn? Was it that the talking amongst the villagers decreased from zero to none? Or was it that the people now continuously exuded a smell of fear equivalent in magnitude to that of the endless occurring winter? No one, not even Mina nor Peter, decided to sneak out of the confines of the village gates and walls.
Now burdened by the task of collecting goods from the market every morning with a companion, Mina quietly walks to the village square with Valerie, a nosy childhood neighbor who, unlike Mina, thrives under rules and restrictions.
Out of pure boredom, Mina begins to focus on the trivial things within sight. For instance, she observes how the clouds hang particularly low and how their heavy cotton nature hide the sun particularly well this morning, casting a gloomy shadow filled with biting coldness and wind over the humble village of Irnsdale.
"So, do you think that they've already sacrificed the poor animal this morning?" questions Mina in desperation to break the awkward silence.
As usual, no response. Only the steaming stench and horrid sight of calf innards and fresh blood in the middle of the square answer the rhetorical question mentioned in the latter. With the market next to the livestock sacrifice, the scent of gore only becomes stronger and more putrid to the nose in the wind.
"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" a bearded villager yells on the steps of the fountain, "We have been wasting our time and food supply in order to keep the beast out of our village, a beast that has slain and killed our people despite the sacrifices we have made for the past 30 years! For 30 years we have upheld our end of the bargain and kept the peace, but the beast has not upheld his! For 30 years we have wept and sacrificed our best cattle, lambs, and pigs! It is time that this stop! It is time we hunt the beast!"
In a matter of seconds, the whole village, captivated and moved by the man's motivational speech, begins to chant uncontrollably "KILL THE BEAST! KILL THE BEAST!"
The ice of fear temporarily thaws, doors slam open once again, and anger ignites the atmosphere, melting the icy sleet that falls too slowly to reach the ground. With the mob quickly forming, Valerie and Mina quickly make their ways back home in order to evade the violent ruckus assembling in the square. Through the hidden alleys and well-known streets, Mina glances over in surprise to see that all men, rich and poor, including her father, hurriedly and eagerly run in to join the riotous crowd forming in the middle of the square.
KILL THE BEAST! KILL THE BEAST! she hears as it rings in her ears with a hard-driven rhythm, similar to that of a beating drum, until it becomes no more as she moves hastily with a purpose farther away from the echoing commotion behind her. Without knocking, Mina barges into the door to tell her mother the grim but exciting news.
"Mother! Mother! Father is joining the hunt for the beast! Persuade him not to go! There are plenty of other men more able to fight than he! Please!" exclaims Mina without noticing the conversation her mother was having with a strange individual sitting in an armchair.
As the individual stands up and calmly turns around with a smile, Mina locks glances with a pair of eyes that shine and glisten like golden amber jewels filled with flecks of endless silvery-red light erupting in an array of colors within. His volcanic, midnight black hair, thick, luscious, and full, shines with an exceptional luster that highlights his strong and defined face as if his features were molded from heavenly granite. As he walks closer, without tearing her eyes from his stare, Mina undoubtedly notices his smooth, flawless skin that showcases his toned, muscular build.
Caught by surprise, his strong hands, slightly rough from an unknown factor, holds Mina's and lifts it to his lips where he gently plants a firm kiss on the outside of her trembling hands.
"Dimitri," he purrs, still holding her hand, never breaking eye contact with Mina's mesmerized gaze.
"Charmed," he whispers in a thick seductive accent, causing Mina's cheeks to rush with redness.
YOU ARE READING
Of Blood and Snow
WerewolfA village lives in fear. Chained to its beliefs of sacrifice, the villagers offer their best livestock every full moon in hopes of keeping the beast at bay. For thirty years, the peace has been kept, but a sudden death deep into the woods with slash...
