Rosalind: Book One

27- The Wolf In The Forest

Rosalind hoped the dream would quickly fade away like tendrils of smoke from a dying fire, vanishing into the vastness of the sky. But when her lashes touched, she was taken back to the forest, back to the snow-covered land, back to the voice that called for her.

"There is little here but a sort of madness I have found." Rosalind splashed cool water on her face from the porcelain washbasin. The face in the mirror was solemn. Tepid water trickled down her cheeks and brow. Rosalind pursed her lips together and the mirror-woman drank in the drops. Remember, the mirror-woman's phantom voice spoke, and at that moment, Rosalind was taken back to her own home, back to the reminder of a dream she had many months before. "You spoke to me then," she cried while the pale hand of the stranger beckoned to her in her mind. "Dear God, it is not madness I have found. It is madness I carried over."

Something clenched at Rosalind's heart making her wince, a longing. She pushed away from the mirror and strode to the middle of her room. "Your voice," she uttered as she began to pace the length of her chambers, "is inside me." Her hands rose to her ears and she cupped her palms over them to ward off any sound. Yet the reminiscence of the strange voice echoed, telling her this time it would be forever.

"You..." the voice echoed faintly, "and I."

"Get out," she begged under her breath but her words simply fell at her feet. "Get out of my head."

Hastily, Rosalind dropped her hands. She took hold of the hem and slid out of her nightgown hurling it onto her bed quite unladylike. She put on a long, lavender dress with flowing sleeves which she had brought from her own house. A dainty bow was to be tied at the front, an easy task, yet it took her three tries to get the bow right for the last traces of the mysterious voice circled around her mind like vultures before fading away into a welcomed silence.

Before Agnes even had got Rosalind's breakfast ready and brought it to room, the young woman had already brushed her long, dark hair and grabbed her warm, winter's cape. She stormed out of the room as quickly as possible and without looking back, walked down the grand staircase.

Rosalind's deer-skin boots make barely a sound as she walked towards the door. The cold lay heavy outside. From a window, the young woman saw frost creating spider-fine patterns in the air. Rosalind draped her woolen cape around her shoulders and hoisted the white fur-lined hood over her head.

Before Agnes noticed that she was leaving and dared try to stop her, Rosalind had already opened the door and stepped into the cold. The young lady hurried away from the manor and made her way towards the cluster of trees. The trunks stood majestic in their white-covered branches. In the light breeze, small speckles of snow were carried out into the air and fell upon Rosalind like confetti.

There was a haunting silence around her. A welcoming sound from the voice of her dreams.

Rosalind wondered if Agnes would be upset. Would the maid scold her for exiting the house without permission? Rosalind wasn't certain she would even care what Agnes said or did. She did not want to stay between those dark stone walls where everything felt unnatural. Not today. Not after the dream.

It was not just the voice that upset Rosalind, it was what happened with the beast the other night, as well. In the library, the lord of the manor had introduced himself and he had shown his younger guest his face, as she had asked.

'Lord Caspian.' He had insisted when she called him a monster. Rosalind's heart made a nervous lurch into her throat.

He could have struck her then. He could have broken his vow and killed her. But he did not. The Borgo Beast kept his promise. Rosalind drew in a breath. She was torn between believing him and not.

The trees before her looked like those in a grim fairy tale. Perhaps it was the perpetual gloom that hung low which gave the woods their morbid atmosphere. Were there ribbons of light cascading through the treeline, it could have been a much lovelier place.

Rosalind took a step and felt her foot sink into the thick snow. As she made her way further from the manor, the snow got deeper until she was struggling to wade through the calf-high powder of white. The hem of her lavender dress soaked through, as had the hem of her long cape. Clusters of snow clung onto the wool material of Rosalind's cloak weighing it down heavily.

Out of breath, Rosalind stopped and shook the snow off her cape. When she looked to where the flakes fell, she saw the footprints of an animal. "A wolf," she said in a shaky tone. Rosalind moved her gaze to the treeline, looking out for any sign of the animal. Though the prints were from a single wolf, Rosalind knew the animals often traveled in packs. She was too far away from the house to save herself would a wolf choose to chase her. The snow held her legs securely, it would not allow her to run even if she wanted to. Rosalind felt the ice-cold sponge into her stockings and creep under her boots.

Behind the break of bark, a shadow swayed serpentine. A slender figure with exaggeratedly long legs pranced before her line of view. The shadow stood ten feet tall if it stood an inch.

Rosalind tried to take a step back. The weight of the snow made her legs move sluggishly.

An abundance of snowflakes caught onto the white fur of the young woman's hood, they melted away only to become drops of water falling onto her front. When the wolf came into view, Rosalind could not help but stare at the snowflakes glistening like crystals on its own white fur. The creature was not a ten-foot-tall monstrosity but a simple wolf who looked as frightened to see Rosalind as she was to see him.

"Stay away." Rosalind took a few steps back through the thick snow slowly. She wanted to rush to the trees and break off a branch but did not think it wise to take her eyes off the wolf in case it made a move for her.

The wolf backed away as well. When the animal hung its head, Rosalind realized she had seen the animal before. "The window," she uttered remembering the day the same wolf had stood under her chamber looking up as though it had secrets it wanted to share.

Slowly the wolf nodded his head as if comprehending.

Though she knew it was silly, Rosalind spoke before her brain told her to stop. "Do you understand me?"

The wolf moved one foot back and turned his head over a furry shoulder.

"For the love of God," Rosalind said torn between wanting the wolf to respond and feeling like a fool for thinking he could.

But the wolf did speak and the words were not ones Rosalind wanted to hear. "There is no God here, my lady."

Rosalind let out a tiny gasp, her hands fluttering to her throat nervously.

The wolf was not done speaking. Turning his head to the young woman, he went on. "Lord Caspian made sure of that. We are all damned here," he said before turning around and running off into the woods.

"Wait!" Rosalind called after him, but the wolf was already gone, leaving nothing behind but his footprints in the once perfect snow.