There’s not much conversation as we head out, the group of us trooping into the forest at the base of the mountain. It’s not far from the festival, but far enough that the sounds of the celebration fade into the background as we walk.
I hadn’t expected to be walking this far, not that it matters; my boots are old, but they’re well worn, and comfortable enough. Besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve gone marching into the forest in a dress and boots. This is the most human interaction I’ve had in… well, I was going to say months, but potentially also the rest of my life combined.
The deeper we go, the more my unease grows. The men ahead of me move with purpose, their steps sure and steady, as if they know exactly where they're going. As if this isn't some spontaneous rescue mission born of festival revelry and liquid courage. When did they have time to scout this far into the woods? When did they set those traps they mentioned?
"How much further?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
"Not far now," one of them calls back without turning around, and something in his tone makes my skin itch.
The trees press closer here, their branches forming a canopy so thick that the afternoon light struggles to penetrate. Every shadow could hide a threat, every rustling branch could signal danger. But not the kind of danger these men are expecting. My heart pounds as I think of Gray, of her massive form and mismatched eyes. What if she's out here somewhere?
We crest a small hill, and I hear it before I see it – a low, pained whining that makes my blood turn to ice.
"There," someone says with satisfaction, and I push through the group to see what they've found.
The net is crude but effective, thick rope woven tight enough to hold something large. Something that's thrashing weakly against its bonds, silver-gray fur caught in the coarse fibers. My vision tunnels, the world narrowing to that single point of trapped, struggling fur.
No. No, no, no.
"Gray?" The name slips out before I can stop it, barely a whisper, but loud enough in the sudden quiet that several heads turn toward me.
The wolf in the net goes still at the sound of my voice, and for one horrible moment I'm certain it's her. That somehow, impossibly, these men have captured the one creature in this world that has ever shown me kindness. The one being I've come to...
But as the creature shifts, trying to lift its head, I catch a glimpse of its eyes. Brown, not gold. Smaller build, different markings. Relief floods through me so suddenly I nearly collapse, followed immediately by shame. This is still a living creature, still suffering, and I'm relieved simply because it's not the wolf I care about.
"Well, would you look at that," one of the men says, his voice thick with anticipation. "Caught ourselves a big one."
"What are you going to do with it?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
The looks they exchange make my stomach turn. There's something hungry in their expressions, something that has nothing to do with justice or protection and everything to do with violence for its own sake.
"Same thing we do with all monsters," the leader says, and his smile is sharp enough to cut. "Make sure it never threatens good Christian folk again."
I take a step back without thinking, my hand instinctively moving to the small knife at my belt. Not that it would do any good against grown men, but the weight of it is reassuring.
"Maybe we should just drive it off," I say carefully. "It's trapped now. It can't hurt anyone."
"Drive it off so it can come back later?" Arcas shakes his head. "No, witch. This is how we handle things properly."
They're moving toward the trapped wolf now, and I realize with growing horror that they never intended this to be a rescue mission. They wanted an audience. They wanted someone to witness their cruelty, to validate it.
They wanted to make sure I understood what happens to monsters in their world.
And if they ever found out about Gray...
I swallow hard, and my fingers close around the knife. This is stupid, potentially the most foolish thing I’ve ever done, but Ican’t sit here and watch them kill an innocent creature. It might not be Gray, but it could have been, and I’m not doing this. I won’t sit back and watch.
“Get away from it. Now.”
Arcas turns slowly and his eyes drop to the knife in my hand. That sneer is back, and this one I believe much more than I did any of the smiles.
“You think you’re going to get any of us with that? We could kill you out here, along with the wolf. After all, we’re just defending ourselves.”
“Maybe so,” I agree. I’m not dumb enough to think that I’m going to come out of this unscathed, but it is what it is. It’s too late to change my mind now, and even if it wasn’t, I stand by that choice. I’m not going to let them hurt this wolf, not when there’s something I can do.
My shaking fingers tighten on the knife and I raise it, pointing it at Arcas. “But I can make sure that you fools regret trying it.”
The sneer on his face tightens, and a flash of movement from the corner of my eye is the only warning I get before they’re all rushing me. I slash viciously and am rewarded with a yelp from at least one, maybe two of them, before they’re all too close.
