Hiraeth

Chapter 2

The true panic, wariness settles in come next morning. The thin sheets pool around her sweat covered body. The light floods her room, warm against her already flaming skin. The remnants of her dream cling to her, yet its contents remain lost to her. She only remembers moss, the smell of wet dirt. It clings to her like a phantom, weights her down with something. Her throat closes up even more as she realizes that she is trapped here, in a mansion full of wolves. She is caged with people that feed from the living. Here, the Old Ones surely cannot protect her and she thinks of bolting from the room. She wants to run as far and as long as her legs can carry her. The thought dies the moment Delphine enters the room. The maid watches Harlow with that kind of focus that makes her squirm with uneasiness.

"You may leave, after the mistress has made the arrangements, but running from the mansion now is strictly forbidden. Some of the maidens underestimate their wounds and faint upon leaving the mansion.", the handmaiden's eyes wander to the bandages still wrapped around Harlow's neck.

She thinks the Delphine must have often witnessed humans trying to escape the wolves. Harlow cannot fathom why the woman stays, why any of the other women not claimed by the night would stay. They are human, not festering like corpses from the inside out. Their hearts beat, yet none of them are terrified and it irks her. She is scared, her pulse a feeble little thing fluttering in her veins. She is scared of what punishment running from them might bring, though the notion of staying terrifies her more. Noticing that Delphine is waiting for her reaction, Harlow merely nods dumbly.

Wordlessly, the maid begins to lead her through the mansion. The pair walks past the throne room, deeper into the belly of the house until they reach a heavy oak door. The woman knocks once. The door opens. Mistress and servant speak in hushed tones before Delphine bows and takes her leave. Cool fingers wrap around Harlow's thin wrist. She is pulled into the room before she can protest.

Relics and bookshelves fill three of the walls. Somewhere in between she thinks she might spot a desk, but it it is difficult to tell with all the notes strewn around. The only place free of anything appears to be the row of enormous windows with dark, stained glass opposite of the door. Sunlight is leaking in, but it is painted by dark reds and violets. The queen sized bed is surrounded by books and manuscripts. The red satin sheets are barely visible underneath it all. Then again, Harlow assumes that the mistress never sleeps all too much. Do the wolves sleep at all?

The other woman is still wearing the same garments as she did yesterday. The mistress' free hand slips upwards to graze the bandage. Harlow shivers, from fear or leftover pleasure, she does not know.

"The wound marks you. It would be foolish to leave. You would be met with nothing but unkindness." The word sounds cold to a degree. A certain possessiveness swings within them as well, as if Harlow is not her own person anymore.

It makes her stomach churn with repressed anger. Still, she does not manage to speak. Instead she finds herself overwhelmed, always overwhelmed by standing in front of such a pristine creature. Warning bells flare to life within her mind. They have been wrong, all of them. There are no wolves, only those living and the dead who feed from them, like they are kettle. She presses her back against the door. The handle painfully digs into her side. Harlow does not care. If she did not die in the forest, the Old Ones must have plans for her, a greater meaning to her existence. She knows that if she stays, she will surely die.

The silence stretches between them, uncomfortable and thick. The mistress merely watches her. It is unsettling to be under such scrutiny. An answer is expected of her, but there is none that she can give. The fear she experiences is old, developed through stories upon stories in her childhood. The dead will feast on you. They will turn you into a child of the night as well. They will steal you away and never let you return. She was terrified as a child and she is terrified now when the stories push back to the surface.