"I have to go to back," she said. Her voice trembled. "It's my father…please."
He could hear the tears in her voice. Despite of himself, he could feel his anger ebbing. He turned, and looked at her. She stood, silhouetted in the darkness next to the tall window. He crossed the room to her, and her head tipped up to look at him. "Just promise you'll come back to me," he said.
Her eyes were shining. "Thank you," she whispered.
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She rode like wind through the forest, her breath tearing at her throat, the steady throb of hooves beneath her pounding in time with her heart. She looked ahead in the darkness, searching for the path. Fear made her dizzy, and she clutched her horse's mane as they cantered through the night. Her father…her father…
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After she left, he stood alone at the window. He'd watched her ride out, her cloak whipping through the air behind her. He remembered the time, it seemed so long ago, when she had ridden out alone, without his permission. The wolves…for a moment, fear clutched him. His face hardened. That time, she had been attacked by the wolves. That time, she had been driven back to him. This time, she had promised….
He believed her. He wanted to believe her. But how much could he believe? He let her go because it was causing her pain, because he couldn't bear to see her like that. He closed his eyes. He didn't expect her to return to him. He hadn't believed her when she'd promised to come back. He could go after her, of course. Yet he knew that was not the right thing to do. This time, if she came back, she had to come back on her own. This time, he had to let her go.
But what he would give just to see her one more time.
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The village was strangely silent when she arrived. It was dark and quiet. She rode through the streets until she could see her house. There were lights in the windows, which was good. Still a distance away from her house, she jumped down from the horse, not bothering to tie him, but running to the door instead. She threw it open, and light spilled out.
Her father was lying in bed, his face barely visible. She ran to him, sobs rising in her throat.
"Father," she cried. "Father!"
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At the other side of the village, a crowd was gathering. There was murmuring and the sound of people shifting impatiently, but nothing more. A torch was lit. Then another. Soon, there were enough torches to make out the assembly of people, armed with everything from axes to pitchforks.
A man appeared in front of them. He raised the torch he was carrying over his head. "Let's go!" he bellowed, and shouts of approval rose from many throats as the motley group moved into the woods, disappearing from view.
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Her father tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. "Shhh," she soothed as she wiped his forehead. "Don't talk."
"There's something you need to know."
"It's all right," she said softly. She smoothed the bedcovers. "I'm home." She smiled at her father. "I'm finally home." But when she reached into her pocket and felt the hard smooth edge of the mirror he'd given her, there was an ache in her chest.
Her father struggled to sit up. "There's a mob," he gasped as she tried to push him down again. "In the village, they're going into the forest…"
She felt a stab of cold fear. "That's impossible," she said quickly. "There was no mob when I rode in."
Shaking his head, her father said, "They've gathered on the far side of the village…"
Her heart sped up. "Father, stop," she whispered.
Her father took her hand. "You must go back to him," he told her. "The mob…you must warn him."
She shook her head, denying it.
"Go," her father commanded, pushing he away. She stumbled back, her hand over her mouth, staring at him. "Go warn him…"
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He sat alone at the table, staring at the food. Now that she had left, it seemed so quiet. So silent. He had never minded before.
It seemed forever since he'd last had supper alone. Since he'd been the only one left here. With her, even when she was out in the gardens or in another room, the place had seemed to hold her presence. Now it was empty. He was alone, the way he had been before she'd come to him.
He had never known despair like this. He had known anger, he had known rage, but he'd never felt despair and longing the way he felt it now. When the spell had first been set on him, he had roared and torn apart everything in sight. Now he could only sit and gaze unseeingly at the tabletop.
He took out the mirror and laid it on the table. He wondered if she still had her mirror. If she would ever talk to him through it. If he would ever see her face again. In another time, he might have hurled the mirror at the wall and broken it. He might have chased through the forest to bring her forcibly back to him, cursing her for leaving him, cursing himself for letting her go. But that was then, and this was now.
Turning away, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned back to the mirror, staring at it, clenching his fists and narrowing his eyes disbelievingly. Slowly, her face took shape. Her eyes were desperate. She opened her mouth to say something.
"They're coming," she gasped. He stared at her. "Who?"
"The mob," she cried. "Through the forest, to you!" Slowly, a leaden pit formed in his stomach. He watched her reflection in the mirror.
"Father told me," she said. "I had to warn you, there's a mob. They're heading to you – they think you're a danger!"
Maybe I am, he thought humorlessly.
Her reflection was fading now. He leaned forward and clutched the mirror in his hand. "Don't come here!" he called, but her face faded away, and he didn't know if she heard him.
He turned to the window and stared outside. The moon slowly slid out from behind the clouds, and a single ray filtered through the window, landing on him. He looked up at the white orb in the sky as he felt himself begin to change. Even as he took on his wolf shape, he knew he would not fight. Let them come, let them tear him to pieces. He would wait for him, he would see them, their weapons, and feel his anger grow. Then he would look to their faces, and think of her, and think that these were her people.
He would wait for them to come; he would wait in the shadows. But tonight, he would not fight.
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The same night, she was riding through the same forest. She was riding through with urgency, like before. She was even riding the same horse. And she was riding for the same reason.
Call it love. She could feel it stretching through the forest, to him in his empty palace, waiting for the mob. He had told her not to come, but she would come anyway. Surely he knew that. She ached when she thought about what he had done for her, letting her go. She had promised him she would return. And she would keep that promise, if it was the last thing she did.
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They stamped through the forest, pushing branches out of their way, plowing over bushes and plants. They held their torches high over their heads and shouted. He was a danger to them. He had held the girl for long enough. Granted, he had let her return to her father, but what did that prove? He was a danger, a potential threat. He was a beast, after all. And this was how the village dealt with dangers.
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He was waiting for them when they came. He was sitting patiently on the roof, a mere shadow. When they came nearer, he stood silently and watched them. He bared his teeth.
He did not move as he watched them swarm up to the gate, which he had left open. They poured in, coming up to the palace, shouting and waving their crude weapons. Just before they reached the palace, just before they were about to burn down his door, he pointed his nose towards the sky. And he howled a lone, mournful wolf howl. They froze, watching him, their head tipped up to the gigantic wolf outlined on the roof. None of them noticed a single man slipping away from the rest of the mob to climb up the side of the stone walled castle. Neither did he.
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She heard the howl when she was still in the woods, a distance from his palace. The sound pulsed through the night, woeful and eerie, and her horse swerved, snorting nervously. The howl continued, rising several octaves, almost like a song. She dug her heels into her horse and it leapt forward again. She prayed she would see him, that she would get there in time. She had promised to come back to him.
When she galloped into the palace grounds, the wail was still unbroken. She saw him at once, the great wolf that stood with his nose pointed at the moon on the roof. The villagers were scattered, listening to his howl. Then she saw the man.
The man was climbing the side of the palace steadily, and he evidently had been climbing for a while. By the time she jumped off her horse and ran forward, he had reached the rooftop, and was drawing a knife. Good grief. He had actually had a knife.
She screamed, because she could do nothing else, and on the rooftop, the wolf lowered its head and stared at her. She screamed at him to move, screamed at him that he was in danger, but even as the man swung his knife, the big wolf jumped back. The man missed and stumbled backwards, thrown off balance. He clutched at thin air for a moment, then toppled backwards. In one gigantic leap, the wolf bounded forward again and his teeth closed around the man's knife. He braced himself against the steep slope of the roof, biting the knife, with the man holding desperately onto its handle.
Slowly, the wolf dragged the man back one step at a time, until the man found his footing on the roof. Both the wolf and the man let go of the knife at the same moment, and it dropped with a clatter, sliding down the roof and fall several stories before landing at her feet. She flinched, and stepped back. She could feel the villagers' gaze on her. After a moment, she picked the knife up.
It was surprisingly light, but she held it like it would poison her. She turned around and offered it to the people around her. They stepped back, one by one. She turned and threw the knife as hard as she could with both hands. It sailed over the metal gate and into the woods. Still there was no sound but the cackling of torches behind her.
When she turned to face the palace again, the wolf had jumped down from the roof and was coming towards her. She ran towards him, and hugged him, tears prickling at her eyes. Then something began to happen.
Slowly, he began to change. She held onto him, tears now streaming down her face, blurring her vision. Finally, she felt arms around her, and when she looked up, she saw they were his arms, and that he was human.
"I told you not to come," he said, but he held her close.
"I promised," she whispered.