A Rose for the Beast

Heroics and Horrors

The moon hovered ominously overhead once they reached Michel's territory. She welcomed the cool air as snow started falling around them. Her father wasn't as enamored with the land as Rosalie. He cautiously stepped across the frost covered ground, gazing in wonder at their surroundings. She smiled to herself, wondering if she had exhibited the same awestruck expression when she first saw the landscape.

The white wolf lifted his fluffy head to look up at the moon through the trees, pulling her away from her reminiscing. The blue light reflecting off the surface of the moon cascaded down, illuminating the wintery land. The large trees and long branches stretched with a light breeze as the group picked up their pace.

Rosalie slowed only to let her father catch up as he struggled with the terrain and weather. She tried convincing him to go home and that a man with his moral standing wouldn't be much help in a fight, but he refused.

"I may not have ever killed before, but I can get through just about any locked door in France. You'll have to tie me to a tree to keep me from coming after you, Rosalie. Even then, I'd catch up eventually. Knots are another one of my specialties," he said with a weary grin.

By the time the castle of BelleMontagne came into view, Victor could barely breathe. He collapsed to his knees and took in deep, raspy breaths. She bent down beside him, worry creasing her brow.

After a moment, his breathing grew steady and he looked up at her with a smile. Then, he turned his gaze toward the magnificent castle in the distance. While not as great in size as Magda's dwelling, Michel's castle made up for it in its architectural design. The unique spires, twisting columns and stairs, as well as the overgrown garden in front left her father speechless as he stammered for the words to describe what he was seeing.

"This...it's...Mon Deui..."

Rosalie knew her curious mind had been inherited from her father. She could see the questions bubbling within him. Before she could say anything on the matter, a jostling noise in the distance startled them. The wolf nudged them to the left and out of sight.

"Listen here, you bumbling bafoon. If you harm one hair on that rabbit's head, I will call forth a wrath, the likes of which you've never imagined before."

She stopped short at the sound of Monsieur Dubois' ranting and peeked back toward the noise.

"Get down!," the wolf whispered furiously.

Rosalie took cover at the base of one of the trees and cautiously peeked out. Marching away from the castle were two cloaked men in green. The color stuck out amongst the white landscape. Her lungs seized when she saw one of the guards holding Mr. Dubois by his tail and the other carried an unconcious rabbit by its ears. She knew the furry ears belonged to Monsieur Carrote.

When she tried to stand up, the wolf latched onto her dress with its teeth, snatching her back down. She shivered from the snow touching her bare arms and turned to glare at the canine.

"Wait here," he said before she could berate him.

Then, he silently sprinted off in the opposite direction, leaving them behind in the freezing cold. She glanced at her father, who huddled up to the tree nearest her. He trembled from the frigid air and she cursed the damned wolf for running off.

"Stop swinging him like that! You're going to injure his ears!," Mr. Dubois yelled out.

"Oh, yeah? Let's see, then, shall we?," the guard replied.