Erik drew his knife and sliced the bread and cheese. It would satisfy his hunger, but what he craved was meat. Only days ago, he had insisted Valaree cook the venison she had offered him; now he found himself yearning for a hunk of meat that was raw and dripping with the juices of life. A part of his mind was disgusted by the mere idea of eating uncooked meat while another part, a part that was growing more dominant with each passing day, hungered for the taste.
“Erik?”
He glanced up to find Kristine staring at him. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head again. How could she explain it? How could she describe the feral look she had seen in his eyes? For a moment, his eyes had looked just like those of the werewolves.
They washed the bread and cheese down with wine. Kristine put the remainder of the food back in the saddlebags, and then Erik lifted her onto Misty’s back. She took up the reins, watching as he climbed into the saddle. Once he had moved with effortless grace; now his movements were sometimes awkward as he tried to adjust to his changing form.
“What about Valaree and her . . . her family?” she asked.
“They’ll find us. Are you ready?”
Kristine nodded. “Yes, let’s hurry.”
It was a dark, forbidding region they traveled through. Huge boulders dotted the landscape, looming out of the swirling mists like nightmare creatures ready to pounce. Trees rose up out of the ground, misshapen by a devil wind.
Kristine shivered, wondering if they had made a mistake in coming here. Surely nothing good could dwell in this accursed place.
She glanced at Erik. He rode beside her, careful, now that he had lost his mask, to ride on her left side so that she was spared the sight of his disfigurement as much as possible.
She had told him it was unnecessary, yet she knew it bothered him when she saw the ruined side of his face. It bothered her, too, but not in the ways he imagined. She felt only pity for him, and an increasing sense of sadness.
The setting sun had turned the sky to crimson when the wolves materialized out of the shadows. They trotted beside the horses for a few minutes, and then the big gray one barked and veered into the woods to the right.
“They must have found a place to spend the night,” Erik remarked. Two of the black wolves ran after the gray, while the third kept pace with the horses.
A short time later, they reached a large cave carved out of the side of a rocky hill.
Dismounting, Erik lifted Kristine from her horse, and they went inside.
Valaree had changed into human form. She wore another long gown, this one a pale shade of blue. The other wolves sat in a half circle behind her. A small fire blazed cheerfully near the rear of the cave.
“Why don’t the others change?” Kristine asked.
“It is more difficult for them than it is for me.”
Kristine looked at Valaree, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“And I don’t know how to explain it,” Valaree replied. “Only that it is easier for some of us to change from wolf to human than it is for others. My sister prefers the wolf form.”
“And your parents?”
“My mother has lost the ability to change.”
“Lost it?” Erik asked. “Why?”
Valaree shrugged. “No one knows. That is why my father rarely transforms.”
“Is this another of your dens?”
“Yes.” Valaree glanced around. “We come here often. It is the largest. Come, sit. I will prepare something to eat. Elsbeth has killed a deer.” She looked at Erik, her expression thoughtful. She started to speak, glanced at Kristine, and changed her mind. “Why don’t you rest awhile, Kristine?” she suggested.
“Yes, I think I will.”
“There are blankets in the back of the cave.”
“I’ll get them,” Erik said. He stared at Valaree a moment, then walked to the back of the cavern.
There were several furs and blankets piled against the cave wall, as well as a small cask of wine. He also noted several clay jars filled with water; others held herbs and dried meat.
He picked up two thick wool blankets. “Here.” He spread one of the blankets on the floor of the cave, out of the way of the smoke.
“Thank you,” Kristine replied. “I am a little tired.” More than a little, she thought, but she didn’t want to worry Erik. He had enough to worry about.
He brushed a kiss across her lips, then covered her with the second blanket.
“Erik?”
“What is it?”
“You won’t leave me?”
“No, beloved, I won’t leave you.”
She smiled at him; then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep.
“This journey must be difficult for her in her condition,” Valaree remarked when Erik returned to the fire.
“Yes.”
“Yet she never complains. She is a brave girl.”
He nodded, thinking brave did not begin to describe it.
Valaree regarded him through eyes that were dark and wise, eyes that knew him better than he knew himself. She cut off three thick chunks of venison and placed them on the ground. One by one, the wolves came forward, accepted the meat, and then went outside to eat.
Valaree looked up at Erik, the knife clutched in her hand. “Do you want to have yours now, while she sleeps?”
Erik stared at Valaree, his heart suddenly beating faster. He knew what she was asking. He looked at the haunch of venison. Unable to help himself, he sniffed the air, his mouth watering as he inhaled the rich, gamy scent of the meat. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to sink his teeth into the raw meat, to taste the warm bloody flesh and then, with a groan, he shook his head. “Cook it.”
“It will be less painful for you if you stop fighting,” Valaree remarked softly.
“I can’t stop. I can’t give in.” He clenched his good hand into a tight fist. “Don’t you understand? I cannot let her win.”
“The witch has won already.”
“No!” Erik stared at his left hand. With a low-pitched growl of pain and resignation, he turned and left the cave.
Valaree stared after him, her heart aching with sympathy and understanding.
Late that night, long after the others were asleep, Erik stood outside the cave, staring into the distance. They would reach the mage’s castle on the morrow.
He refused to let himself believe the mage would be able to break the spell. Better to expect the worst. At least then he would not be disappointed. And yet a tiny spark of hope burned deep in his heart. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be a whole man again, to have the use of two good hands, to return to the company of men, to associate freely with his friends and neighbors. To make love to Kristine without fear, to feel her hands upon his flesh . . .