I don't know how long I lay in the snow. Venomous curses raced through my mind, but nearly delirious from pain, I was unsure which of the utterances escaped my lips. I may have spent a few moments shouting phrases a gentleman never repeats, or I may have spent several hours in silence. I really had no way of knowing.
As I kept reliving the attack in my tortured mind, one question persisted: Who was to blame? It was true that the enchantress had transformed me into an accursed…I can't bring myself to say it. However, I've hated Prince Adam for years, so something like this was bound to happen eventually. Then again, he went out of his way to earn more and more reasons for my loathing.
Never had I known worse pain than having the two parallel bones of my lower leg crossed into an X. My foot was nearly entirely backwards. Even now, I did not have the mercy of unconsciousness.
The newly fallen snow was stained with royal blood. I spat again, wondering if I would ever cleanse my mouth of the nauseating taste. Over the past decade of what felt like the punishments of eternal condemnation, I'd had the misfortune of tasting blood more times than I could count, but when I knew I had nearly killed another human being…
Once more, my thoughts turned to defiance. Prince Adam deserved what I did to him! Any man in France would have done the same in my place! Even before the spell, there was no one who could possibly have mistaken the young tyrant for a human being! If he hadn't…!
The soft whimpers brought me back to reality. No matter what the prince had or hadn't done, I rightfully bore the shame of my own actions. My attempted regicide had seriously wounded the innocent. It would be a miracle of my men survived until morning.
"This is unforgivable."
I turned, seeing my sister limp up beside me. Her arm was broken in the same way as my leg, but she had been kicked by a horse.
"I don't ask anyone's forgiveness," I remarked. "I already know what the answer will be, and I despise stupid questions."
"You've hated the prince since childhood. Was it worth your pyrrhic victory?"
I shook my head. "I didn't mean for my quest for vengeance to hurt them. I'd give my life if only our men would be well!"
"You will," my sister assured me. "Let gangrene set into our wounds, and we'll be gone within days, possibly even hours."
I sighed. Execution by gangrene was a fate I deserved, but Louve had only been trying to get food so our men wouldn't starve. Was it a crime for one starving animal to kill another?
"Shall we see to them?" she queried.
I nodded, not looking forward to seeing their injuries, but knowing what had to be done. Despite my difficulty walking, I approached my nearest employee and asked where he was injured.
"Ribs…" he managed to gasp. "Can't…breathe."
My frantic mind scrambled for solutions.
"Put some snow on it," I suggested. "The cold will numb it a little."
He stared at me like I was an idiot. Of course the cold wouldn't numb his injured ribs. We had all spent the last decade covered in wolf fur, which was thick and waterproof. He wouldn't even feel the snow.
"Even if it hurts, try to take the biggest breath you can at least once an hour," I continued. "You can't risk a collapsed lung. You should take something to help with the pain."
He blinked. "Like…what?"
That was an excellent question. I had been taught my whole life which herbs were for headaches and which settled an upset stomach, but what was strong enough to fight the anguish of a broken bone?
What was going to happen to the victim? Was he already bleeding internally? Had the shattered bone pierced his heart or lungs? Should I advise him to keep still for several weeks to allow the bone to heal or move so his muscles didn't atrophy?
I could barely stand the sight of the wounded. There were more fractures and dislocations in one small clearing than in all the hospitals of France. Seeing my injured friends made me forget the pain that prevented me from lifting my own foot off the ground as I walked, dragging it behind.
"Who won?" Louve's rhetorical question was soft.
I looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
"Who won, you lupine, regicidal idiot?! While we're out here accepting our sentence of execution by painful, lingering death, the master is in a comfortable chair somewhere in front of a fireplace, having his every paper cut tended! Do you still say he lost?!"
"I didn't have to spare his life!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Another millimeter, and I would have severed his brachial artery! I didn't have to let him go with a few lacerations and a hairline fracture!"
My sister was silent for the longest time before asking, "Why didn't you kill the prince?"
"It would have made me too much like him." I sighed wearily. "When I see the destruction I've caused, I see I am too much like him already."
"So what happens now? Shall we plunge our heads into the stream and enter into eternal judgment?"
"Eternal judgment is only for those who have souls," I replied. "I obviously don't."
Louve's gaze wandered to our friend who had been knocked unconscious against a tree. "You should get some rest. I'll stand guard and see if he wakes."
"As if I could sleep after this!" I retorted. "You rest. I'll stand guard."
It would be a restless night for us both. Neither of us spoke our fears aloud. Perhaps he was already dead. If not, he might wake up with a concussion, amnesia, a broken neck, or any of a plethora of horrific injuries.
At least the wolf fur coats that we so despised were keeping one of our men alive. Without it, he may easily have perished in the night from hypothermia after nearly drowning in the icy river.
Just as I had done every night since I first became the prince's servant, I wondered how I had fallen so low in life. I remembered my childhood in a hovel with a dirt floor and a hole in the roof. My twin sister and I had been taught about the secrets of the forest from an early age, for the woodlands provided food, firewood, medicine, and entertainment. We had grown strong from fresh air, exercise, and our modest diet.
Now those wonderful days existed only in the back of my mind. Our parents had passed away, and while their souls were no doubt reunited in paradise with that of our baby sister, Louve and I were sitting around in hideous wolfskin coats, brutally injured, while the monster responsible for the whole mess was our future king!
No, that was not true. Prince Adam was simply being himself. I was the monster who allowed the fire of my hatred and sense of vengeance to rage out of control, not caring if the flames engulfed the innocent as well.
Most of us had gotten what we deserved. Those two bumbling peasants had been frightened out of what little wits they possessed, and they would certainly be thinking twice about wandering aimlessly through the forest without using common sense. The tyrant who had been a pain in the neck so many years now knew what it was like to suffer.
As for me, I would never know the joy of the spell being broken, for my broken leg would be my eventual death sentence, even if the curse were lifted within the next hour. It was already too late for me. I could only hope to be buried in the forest I had loved for so many years.
I only regretted that so many innocent lives were ruined by my own folly.
