When I woke up, Windsor was gone. Something wriggled uncomfortably in my stomach. Something wasn’t right. I had to ignore the feeling though, because today was not a day to worry. It was to celebrate, to commemorate. I was free today, of any obligations to werewolves or otherwise. Today could be spent with Jeremy, and I believe he genuinely liked me. Despite the vicious rumors, which I don’t know how he ignored, he actually liked me. I was determined not to waste the ‘like’. I would never let him regret inviting me. Never.
After bathing and another critical look over my dress, I put it on with difficulty. My mother had a tiny figure, but once I had everything secured it was actually a pretty good fit. I was lucky I was as short as she was when she died… I bit my lip and grabbed the basket of meat rolls I had made that morning. I straightened the cloth over it, sat down and put on my boots, then headed out the door. The sun was shining, but misgivings were still clinging to me like fog on spring grass.
I found the streets mostly empty as I walked them. Windows were locked and store doors were shut and secured.
Everyone was going to the roast it seemed- It was held every year, with the invitations growing from friends of the family to casual acquaintances, and it had gotten to where they needed three hogs just to give everyone one serving. It was part Christmas celebration and part family reunion, growing into the town reunion I suppose, a famous ordeal with Jeremy’s family. This was the first time I had ever been invited, and I was determined to show the small town of Ajerbae that Dandelion Kingsley could indeed hold her own at a party. I hoped, anyways.
I could see the lights five hundred yards from the house. It was lit up spectacularly by paper lanterns that hung on a net in the back, not to mention all the lanterns on the house roof and porch. The way had been worn by carriages and booted feet, and was already muddy even if it wasn’t even evening yet. The sky was overcast, giving the pretense it was still early morning or late evening, a dreary silver washout that reminded me of a certain dog. I wondered if Jeremy would have invited Anthony along. Of course, I chided myself, Jeremy wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t want to give Windsor any reason to suspect he knew. Suddenly my heart was seized with panic- what would Anthony do when he saw me? He knew I was coming, yes, but that did not necessarily mean he would back off. And the town thought we were lovers anyway, how could they not whisper and gossip as they saw Jeremy with me? What a scandal would erupt. Then Anthony would discreetly pull me over to the side. I shivered, and continued on towards the lanterns.
“Dandelion?” Jeremy asked, and I turned around quickly.
“Jeremy, hi,” I said with more surprise than enthusiasm. I tugged him over to the side, “Listen, is, um, he going to be coming?”
Jeremy sighed, and nodded, “There was no other way-.”
“It’s fine.” I grimaced, “Just wanted to make sure.”
My heart beat faster, and I looked around, dreading and hoping to see Windsor’s face all at once.
I saw him. He was over by one of the roasting pigs, talking to Jeremy’s father. His light brown eyes were troubled, and they glided over mine, not seeing them. Or not wanting to see them. I turned back to Jeremy, who was smiling.
The night was long and almost painful. Sometimes I would feel his eyes on me and I would turn around. The eyes would be gone, replaced by Jeremy’s confused smile. I didn’t know how tonight would turn out-, but I had a feeling deep in my stomach that something would change. Something would go awry. I wanted to tell someone, namely Anthony, but couldn’t in front of Jeremy. I didn’t know what to feel; everything was clashing inside me. My spirit was at war with itself.
It was the beginning of the evening when the feeling in my gut came to realization.
The roast was just about to come to it's point. The sun was just starting to disappear, and I looked around for Anthony. He was, thankfully, nowhere to be found. I had seen him starting to twitch minutes before, and a bit of worry had wiggled around in my stomach.
Jeremy was by my side, restless. “Are you going to give a speech?” I asked him.
“Yes,” He smiled down at me, and took my arm. “Tonight’s going to be a big night, Dandelion. I just know it.”
I smiled and nodded, taking his cryptic talk as nerves without much to do. He was so handsome in the light, not like Anthony’s handsome. Jeremy was clean cut and strong, with almost boyish good looks. Anthony was handsome in an unhealthy way, scruffy and lean. I wondered if any of the girls that wanted Windsor’s hand noticed the way he bit his lips when deep in thought, or scrunched his face when exhausted. I frowned, and stood closer to Jeremy. Don't think like that. The fire crackled, and sunset was merely moments away. The trees turned black, the dirty snow turned silver and the festive mood started to spin into motion. A few men heaved a hog off the spit and started to carve. The air bounced with the beat of drums and cut with flutes, vibrant and lively with energy. This must have been the mood that all the great epic writers and folk tale tellers felt when they told a story. Everything was ancient and magic, but very real at the same time.
Jeremy toted me away from the crowd to the small stage were the band sat, gleefully consorting with their instruments as if it was a fast-paced game. People in their finest attire spun with their partners, a few spurts of laughter shooting up from the crowd like fireworks.
“This is wonderful Jeremy,” I breathed, regretting all those missed years.
“I know,” And he cut off the band. They pulled the final note on their instruments with some vigor, as if to make up for having to finish early, then skirted offstage for some fine wine or perhaps whiskey for the tumbledown fiddle player.
Jeremy left my side, stepping onto the stage with a single jump. He straightened his jacket, and smoothed his hair, a quiet confidence about him. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the words were familiar enough, but seemed special tonight, as if the meaning was renewed, “I would like to welcome you to the 12th annual Hog Roast of the holiday season.” Applause, full of enthusiasm and support, “It’s been a wonderful year, even in the light of sudden events.” There was a moment of uncomfortable but appreciative silence for the ‘wolves’’ victims. “Our livestock have been plague-less, or crops famine-less, our families illness-free,” he spread his arms out, bringing his elbows to rest on his hips. “Had it not been for the wolves, it would have also been peaceful. If only somehow we could finally capture the wolf, and bring it to justice, then our year be complete and happy.” I opened my mouth, thunder running up and down my body. I could hear it in my ears. Surely he wouldn’t?.... “Am I right?” To this he received nods all around, ‘sures’ and wishful glances. “I believe, my dear friends and family,” he turned around, winking at me. I violently shook my head, but he paid no mind. Fury wrapped around my shoulders, goading me. “You deserve to know your killer. You deserve to deal him out the punishment he deserves, and I am one to always grant the wish of my dearest friends, and especially my family.” What was he talking about?! “Ladies and gentlemen, may I produce the killer,” People’s heads started looking around in mild panic and confusion.
“No, no Jeremy-!”
“Deputy Windsor.” He said this with utter calmness. His hand shot out in a conductors’ motion towards the side of the house. I whipped around to face into the sun, which was barely up; oh God, he’d still be human. There was the slightest chance.
I ran away from the stage, around the crowd. No one paid attention, they were all looking in surprise and embarrassment on Jeremy’s behalf to the direction he had ushered. The ground beneath my feet was not slippery with mud. It was not weak in the slightest. My boots were all of a sudden well-made and my calves full of energy, but I ran in slow motion. My hair swarmed like it would in a pool of water, lashing my face. The crowd did not blink, but instead shut their eyes a moment, and then opened them again. I felt gravity tug each foot down, ahead of the other, and I cursed it. Touching the ground took up precious time. My eyes were glued to the spot where Windsor would be, and it was always too far away. I ran around the edge of the crowd, leaping in the slowest of time lapses over ladies’ skirts, and spinning around men who stood in my way. Then I heard a scream, and suddenly everything was back in regular timeframes. I burst through the edge of the crowd that had clustered around Windsor.
His hands were tied with rope behind his back, a cloth around his mouth, and a hobble around his legs. He was bloodied and beaten, no doubt taken by some thugs Jeremy had hired with modest pay, and an offer of revenge upon the troublesome deputy. My mouth was open with the horror of the brutality with which the friend had treated the other.
Anthony’s nose leaked blood, his right eye blackened. There was a gash in is arm that looked ragged and unclean.
Anthony was on his knees, breathing hard and shuddering violently. Perhaps there was time. Perhaps I could somehow convince the crowd that Jeremy had lost his mind. I looked around, and opened my mouth to say something when he let out a terrible scream. He started to shake, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Windsor fell onto his side, now seizing. His auburn hair was painted with mud, his face ground against the dirt. Froth and blood and spit leaked from the mouth gag, bleeding into the trampled grass and snow. “Anthony!” I cried out, and for a mere moment I think he heard me. His chest gave a final spasm before it caved in, his very sides collapsing and contracting. People screamed and cried out,
pushing to get away from the mad and sick Deputy they regarded so highly. Women’s fingers stretched over their mouths in horror, and men standing still in some odd mix of awe and fear.
Anthony rolled, his shoulders bending at a strange angle, and out erupted another strangled scream. His face distorted and grew, and his backbone elongated. There was a ripping sound as his best shirt was cleaved in half by silver shoulders. Fingers grew claws and shrunk, ears stretched and changed position, and my stomach churned as his legs could be heard breaking at odd angles.
The rope snapped and fell away, the mouth gag ripped apart. Only the back leg hobble held, but it was hardly needed. When the sun had fallen away from the sky, Anthony lay shivering in the mud. I could easily see now why he never wanted me to watch him transform. I heard people throwing up in the bushes, as I craved to do right now. But duty and fear held me in place, two very different things, natural enemies of emotions formed into one great intent. Staying put for Anthony. There was silence in the crowd, thick, heavy, and begging to be broken but no one was brave enough to do it. Windsor was breathing rapidly, and didn’t move. He looked weak and monstrous, dead to the world except for the rise and fall of his chest. I desperately wanted to pick up the poor thing and comfort it, like I had in my bathroom just a few days ago. Was it really only a week since I had cleaned his blood from the porch? My friend was lying still in the snow, and the
future looked bleak for us all. I looked to the faces of the crowd. Shock, horror. Anger. Victor especially looked angry. Disgusted even.
No. No you don’t understand. The words were in my throat, but wouldn’t come out. I had lost the ability to speak.
The night was too cold all of a sudden, even if the sun had just gone down. The wind picked up, and toused all our hair like a parent to a silly child. I wanted to wrap a shawl around my shoulders, but hadn’t brought one. Better yet, I wanted a wolf to block the cold, but the dog-creature still hadn’t gotten up.
“Seize him,” Victor growled.
All at once ten men lunged to Anthony, as if he was going to try and get up. I heard a few pathetic whimpers under the pile of muscle and fear, but nothing more.
“We’ll chain him up outside the courthouse,” Victor started back around the house, heading quickly back into town.
The men followed him, holding Windsor down as if he could suddenly jump up and kill them all. I wanted to chase them. I wanted to scream and shout and threaten, I wanted to make them see. But I couldn’t do anything. None of that would do any good. Not by me, not for Windsor. There was no time for me to think. Only a leap of my heart got me into motion. I turned and ran into the woods, skirts hefted inappropriately around my calves. I left the lights behind.
The woods were dark, and no one noticed me escaping into their lonely world. They were a place of solace and guidance, and I knew them like the back of my hand. I flew over the hollow ice of creek beds, over the leftover leaves from fall. They made no sound as I ran, smooth and sure as a deer in flight. What would they do to him? When would they do it? Was Victor senseless enough to let him die without a chance to explain himself? Trees were not obstacles to me, but markers and guardians to my destination. The woods were my place, no one else’s. The stale scent of winter wafted around me and bit the inside of my nose. The air froze the inside of my lungs, but it only spurred me on. God, how long had it been since I ran? Snow was only a thin layer of wet on the forest floor now. It had melted during the day and still I did not slip. Now was simply not a time for slipping, and so I didn’t. I turned up a hill, my legs pumping furiously and catching the ground only barely before lifting off again. I pulled to a stop. A gulley. I had forgotten about the gully. It was a ravine deep enough to put a three story house inside, and steep enough to be nearly vertical. I took a deep, icy breath, taking a moment to decide what to do. I plunged down the slope, throwing out my hands and droping my skirts, to catch a young sapling. I swung on it to the next tree, a young oak whose bark skinned my hands. My strides became longer as I ran down the hill, swinging from tree to tree, and I knew I was going too fast to stop at the bottom. I ran the last few feet, and then leaped to the other side, a feat I usually would have been pretty proud of. Now it was just a tool, a simple ability I had acquired to fit my needs.
I ran up to the nearest tree and jumped off its base, running in a zig zag fashion up the gully. Now was not the time to fall, as much as I would have liked to run quickly straight up. Once at the top, I rested a few moments, holding my breath in for two seconds before letting it out again. What were they doing to Anthony now? I started running again, jumping over a fallen tree nimble as a sprite of fable.
I don’t know what inspired me to glance up, but I did. The stars were unusually numerous; as if they were spectators come to watch the show they saw before them. A silly girl, steady in stride as a wolf and tireless as a chased deer. My home of the woods welcomed me back for that night, the girl from so long ago suddenly recognized without her father.
The cottage seemed very empty as I ran from the forest. I slammed the door behind me as I sprinted inside, and heaved a breath of warm air. I felt dizzy and light-headed from such a run. I collapsed in a chair when I came through the kitchen. Knowing, however, what Anthony was probably going through kept me from sitting idle. I started peeling off my broken boots, and unstitching my corset.
