“In the village,” she said, “they collected money from all of us to afford the animals that got sacrificed to you.”
Rooke huffed a bitter laugh. “Sacrificed? The animals are there to trick me.”
“Trick you how?”
“Every thirty-three years, I get the chance to hunt down the bloodline of the one who cursed me. The villagers have forgotten about the curse. All they know is that I come to hunt the streets of the village. The villagers leave out animals painted in human blood to lure me, to distract me. I’m the most feral during theNight of the Beast, unable to resist. You were lucky that by the time I found you, I was so gorged on blood I could barely stand.”
Corabeth hadn’t felt so lucky that night. All she yearned for was the mercy of death. Now… she wasn’t so sure.
“Is there enough for you? In these woods?” she asked. She had never seen any larger animals in the forest, barely any hares.
“The animals are becoming scarce. It’s like they finally figured out there’s only death for them here. But I’ll manage,” Rooke assured her, walking a slow lap around the fountain.
Corabeth had found it hard enough to scrounge up food when she had the occasional market and the general goods store. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if she had to hunt for it herself.
A thought hit her as she looked at Rooke, eyes wide. “I could help you,” she said.
“Help me?” Rooke asked as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“Yes,” she said eagerly, “I could go to a nearby village or town. Buy you an animal. Just… Don’t make me go back to my village.”
Rooke seemed thoughtful for a moment, weighing her idea.
Corabeth had started to feel a restlessness stir within her, the more she recovered. No longer sleeping all day, she had more time to consider her idle hands. To feel useless.
“Let me help. To pay you back for your kindness,” she pleaded.
“Don’t feel like you need to do anything to pay me back. There is no debt,” Rooke assured her.
“Still, I would like to help if I can,” Corabeth said, determined now.
“I suppose it would be nice to have a hog,” Rooke murmured, “I’m so very tired of deer.”
“Then a hog I will get!” Corabeth declared, jumping up from her bench.
There was an amused glint in Rooke’s eyes when he watched her. “Very well,” he agreed, “I can take you to the edge of the woods tomorrow. Near the town of Darkwood. While you’re there, get something for yourself as well. I have limited options with the meat I hunt and root vegetables from the garden.”
Something clicked in Corabeth’s head then. Not once had she considered where her dinner came from.Whoit came from.
“You’ve been cooking for me, haven’t you?” she asked, the answer already so obvious.
“Who else?” Rooke retorted, amused, and held his arms out to his sides.
“You really don’t have to. I’m not quite so catatonic anymore,” Corabeth said, but Rooke silenced her with a single look.
“Please,” he said, “It’s good to have something to do after all this time.”
Corabeth had always looked after herself, and she found it hard to suddenly have someone else do it. But she also saw the other side of it. She saw that perhaps the Beast before her was just a lonely man who needed to take care of someone. Who needed something to do. And who was she to deny him?
That night, when Corabeth went to sleep, she did not think of death at all.
Thirteen
Corabeth
“Hold on to my cloak,” Rooke said, looking over his shoulder at Corabeth.
A light layer of snow covered the ground, and tiny snowflakes kept falling as they stood at the edge of the forest. Despite the cold, there was still a perpetual fog hanging between the trees, smudging their sharp edges.
