Page 5 of Heart of the Wolf
Silver streams of moonlight and stars illuminated the darkened woods; Brielle sighed. There was no way she could trudge back to the village this late. In the drying blood, she spotted her sword and notched it back to her belt.
“Do you…” she paused. “I’m mad talking to a wolf. Do you know of a cave or a place nearby where I could spend the night?”
Gingerly, the creature stood, moving more slowly than before. It looked back to ensure Brielle was following. Soon, they arrived at an outcropping of rock that would suffice for the evening.
Would anyone notice that she hadn’t returned?
Usually, after foraging, she went home alone. She would return in the morning with no one wiser, most likely. Her father didn’t care enough to send a warrior with her when she left. She doubted he would notice her absence. She wondered if he would even care if he had noticed.
A weary sound escaped her.
For all her importance as the only healer for her village, she often felt like nothing more than a wisp, moving from one day to the next.
Since her mother’s death, all-consuming loneliness seeped into every part of her, festering like poison, slowly eroding all the good parts of her life. She didn’t wear fancy garments from the city, she didn’t put effort into her hair, and she did all the things ladies weren’t supposed to do. Men at home didn’t see her as a suitable option to wed.
Maybe she was destined to be alone.
She splayed her fingers over her sternum, sadness settling into the spot.
A fleeting smile tightened across her face. A vision of her Dane appeared in the recesses of her mind, making a warmth blossom deep in her belly, comforting her when no one else would.
Chapter two
Brielle
Teeth chattered as she pulled at her pathetic excuse for a cloak. It was a thin, ratty hand-me-down with too many holes to keep her warm. The moon rose on the horizon, leaving a frigid chill in its wake. A slow breath rolled over her lips, the cold air stinging her chest. Coughing, she winced, clutching the swollen spot on her scalp. She hissed, shaking away the pain.
Knuckles cracked as she flexed her fingers, giving herself a quick once-over. None of her injuries appeared life-threatening. The bump on her head was minor. She was more worried about the hunger pains in her stomach and the thick, viscous feeling in her mouth from lack of water.
She hadn’t expected to be gone this long.
It was too dangerous to fumble around in the dark, hoping to find a stream. While unpleasant, she could wait until morning. Right now, her focus needed to be on not freezing to death in the dank cave.
After gathering kindling and logs, Brielle settled in the back of the stony den, shivering as she built a fire, a skill she had taught herself. Never more thankful for the ability until now. Many called her peculiar, but that never stopped them from seeking her out when they were unwell.
She poked the fire with a gnarled twig, stirring the embers until flames weakly sputtered from the ash. The sound of pebbles skittering across stone drew her attention up.
A glow of white fur sat perched at the mouth of the cave, standing like an ethereal sentry. She hadn’t expected the wolf to stay, but was comforted by its presence. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so alone.
Exhaustion crept into every limb, her body growing heavy. Her lids fluttered with sleep, but Brielle forced them open, stoking the fire to stave off the chill. It was too cold; it was dangerous if she were to fall asleep and let the fire go out.
Slowly, she fed another log onto the dying embers, her head swaying. Even with the burning blaze, she still hugged her cloak tighter, desperate to cling to any semblance of warmth.
Snow fell in fat clumps outside, flickering in the moonlight at the cave’s entrance. The wolf eyed her cautiously from its post. Brielle combed her fingers through her hair, the pounding in her head growing worse from how roughly the man had yanked her earlier.
Resting her head in her hand, she dozed in and out of sleep, startling herself awake while poking the logs with a branch.
Eventually, the creature ambled toward her, leaving its spot. Her teeth chattered slightly as she tossed another log on the flames, relaxing when an eruption of warmth enveloped her.
The white mass of fur moved closer, streaks of dried blood blackening the fire’s flames.
“You are a beast from the tales mothers tell their young children to frighten them. You are something that should be terrifying.”
The wolf stilled, chuffing, as if affronted by her comment. A slow, sleepy smile slid into place as she debated running her fingers over the wolf’s back, but thought better of it.
“You really are quite beautiful, almost like a siren luring me in. I should fear you, but there is something majestic about you. Like freshly spun ice after a winter’s storm. Sharp and glittering.”
In a swift, brutal display, the creature decimated her attackers. Even now, it acted as her silent protector.
