Page 22 of Untethering Dark

But there was more to it than just letting her live, wasn’t there? He could’ve just growled and walked away. No fuss.

Instead, he lingered, longer than necessary, watching her with those red, piercing eyes as he ate her Springerle. And when he found her wandering his domain at night, half-frozen through, he shielded her from the frigid cold and let her warm herself on his heat. The same beast that stalked her like prey also caught her when she tripped. All at once terrifying and tantalizing...

Was he toying with her? Some game of cat and mouse?

Ancient beings were often fickle and fleeting in their interest—kindness a means to an end. And Altes Geweih was a predator. It stood to reason he might play with his food before devouring it. A few nice gestures would be cunning bait.

Looking down at Fritz, who went back to eating, she asked, “Do you think he wants to eat me?”

Without looking up, he bleated, hay falling out of his mouth.

Enlightening.

While shepherding her darlings back into their shared pen and hand-feeding them carrot chunks, Astrid weighed her options.

She could ignore the gesture. Leave out an offering like she normally did and stay safely tucked inside come nightfall. But not acknowledging the kindness would be despicably rude, and she couldn’t afford the consequences a slight may bring. Aspiteful old beast could rain terror not only on her but on the ones she loved. She needed to play this just right.

She could write a nice thank-you note...

No. That was too little.

Such a gesture warranted an in-person meeting, a verbal thanks. And probably a gift. Something he wouldn’t usually get. It meant she had to face him again, but she had survived two encounters already, why not three?

Maybe, too, she could spin this to her advantage. If she charmed her way into Altes Geweih’s good graces, she could further secure her place in the forest. No more early nights. No more hiding. Just free to roam the mountain whenever she wished.

Become a creature of the night.

Leaving the goat pen, she drifted back to her cottage in a daze of thought, dimly remembering to kick off her boots at the door before entering.

She tapped a finger against her lips.

Blood and meat he got every night, so that wouldn’t do, but he seemed to really enjoy the Springerle, enough to take seconds.

Ducking under her counter, Astrid fetched her rolling pin. Another batch of homemade cookies could be a pleasant and welcome surprise. After all, in the days of old during the harshest of winters, people gave Springerle offerings to the gods when they couldn’t afford to sacrifice their livestock. A little flour, a little sugar, and a whole lot of stroking an ancient beast’s ego.

Later that afternoon, Lebkuchen and Pfeffernüsse baked in the oven, the delicious scents of gingerbread and spice cookies filling her home.

Astrid’s uncertainty wavered with the approaching sunset.

The more she thought about last night’s encounters, the more her jaded theory snagged on all the little details. The way hebrushed back her hair with delicate ease suggested a gentleness that wasn’t an exception but a well-used practice. Even with those long, wicked claws, he knew how to touch her without hurting her.

Something seen again with the care in which he looked after her darlings. Fear should’ve subdued them. She expected to find them huddling together, tails and ears tucked, after the night they had. But they were happy. Bouncy, even.

There was more to Altes Geweih than met the eye.

It was possible they’d skirted on the edge of something real and genuine. Something more than “to be eaten” or “not to be eaten.”

Timer dinging, Astrid hopped to her feet, quickly donning oven mitts to fetch the trays of cookies from the oven.

With a broad sweep of her hand, a gentle, icy breeze cooled them.

While she decorated the cookies with icing, she would cast a summoning spell and ask Hexe Mutter for advice. Perchta would no doubt try talking her into seducing the creature—not just to fuel the final ritual that would make her a hag, but to give her grandhexen babies, as well. Mildly irritating, but what mother didn’t try to persuade their children into coven-expanding efforts? But once she’d gotten over that conversational bump, they could discuss more practical matters.

Astrid didn’t know exactly how she wanted to play this yet, but finding out everything her mother knew about Altes Geweih was a good place to start. The more she knew, the better.

As she murmured an incantation over a bowl of water set in the middle of her cookie decorating station, frosty edges formed along the circumference a moment before it completely froze over. Mutter Perchta’s face followed, appearing just beneath its glassy surface.

“Tochter!” She clapped her hands together, gnarled and clawed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

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