When Walking the Wild Woods

This is purely my own work from my own imagination. I have no beta at the moment so would be most welcome to comments on any errors.

Also, please let me know if you enjoyed.

Thanks

Raynsith x

The wind tore through the wood in a sudden sharp howl whipping the hair of the girl around her face in stinging lashes, and the trees rocked in frenzy threatening to collapse with every shudder. A deep growl resonated through the forest as the dark grey sky crackled with energy and it was then that a blazing trail of lightning shot to the forest floor with such velocity that the child thought she had dreamt it. She squeezed her eyes shut against the harshness of the light. When she opened them she found herself in the centre of a snow-white arctic woodland.

She had glowing skin, as pale as the hanging moon overhead, blood red lips and hair, raven black which fell down to her waist. The girl watched with wide terrified eyes at the wild scene around her, burying her glacial skin into the front of her tattered windblown cape.

Without warning she was enveloped in a warm comforting sensation. She lifted her head up out of the folds of her cape and looked around. There, in front of her was a kind looking woman who beckoned for her to come forward. When the girl didn't move, the woman held out a warm looking shawl. The girl began to feel the cold seeping to her bones again, by now the warmth had worn off and she moved towards the smiling woman who draped the shawl around her shoulders. She felt the warmth immediately flood back to her body.

"Come with me poor child, let me make you warm for these woods are not safe when you're alone" the woman's eyes sparkled as she spoke and although the girl was wary of the woman she was more frightened of what might be out in the woods. She followed the woman to a small wooden house, the perfect, snow-dusted fairy tale picture. The woman gestured to the girl to go in and quickly followed, quietly locking the door behind her. The girl blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the house. She moved towards the fire, but noticing a huge black pot she turned to the woman to ask her what was in it, but instead of the kind woman, in her place was a gnarled, bent double crone dressed in rags that hung off her like drying tar. The girl tried to scream but a horrible choking sound was all she could utter. She tried to run past the hag but couldn't unlock the door; she was well and truly trapped. She turned round slowly to face the woman and her –she was almost certain – death.

"Now now Kezia, you have no need to fear" croaked the old woman, her voice sounding like dry sand paper.

"How is it you know my name?" Kezia whispered, by now she was trembling with terror and yet, had frozen in place not knowing what to do. The crone ignored her question however and proceeded to grab Kezia by her arm and pull her to a small wooden stool by the fire.

"Let me tell you a story, child" the woman ground out.

The old woman told Kezia a story of a witch whose daughter ran away with a tailor's son. Although the tailor was the finest in the land and had made the witch many a fine garment, she was distraught and swore her revenge on the son. Soon her daughter was with child and when she was born she was said to be the truest beauty to have ever walked the earth. Red lips, hair as dark as midnight and skin as pale as the brightest star. Her mother died soon afterwards however and the tailor's son was wracked with grief, so much so be begged for death. The witch heard his pleas and came to see him, offering freedom from his suffering. He was so grateful of her offer that he failed to recognise her as his mother-in-law, and a one who would dearly like to make him suffer. And as such, instead of killing him as she had promised, she turned him onto a hideous werewolf, cursed to kill forever more, and this curse would only be broken when he himself was finally broken.

When the crone had finished her tale, she stared just behind Kezia's head and muttered under her breath. Confused, Kezia spun around and facing her was a huge werewolf with its hair matted and dirty, dried blood stained its mouth and its long claws gnarled, split and ragged, dug in the floor boards. It sat back on its haunches and stared at Kezia with yellowing blood-shot eyes. It lifted its head and gave a chilling howl to the moon, invisible from the inside of the house.

"I don't understand" Kezia whispered.

"Don't you, child? Do you even remember your parents?"

"No, I..." Kezia stammered "You mean... you? That's my father?" she indicated the wolf.
"Yes, you stupid child" the witch sneered.

"...Daddy?" Kezia asked, timidly.

"He doesn't know you now you fool!" with the witches harsh words the girl began to cry.
"Occidere!" the witch cried. And with that the wolf rose up, foaming at the mouth.

"What did you tell him?! Daddy, what's happening?"
"I told him to kill" the witch snarled.

With a few more words Kezia was hung, naked and bared for the werewolf to devour as he pleased. He advanced towards her quivering form and snarled before he struck, low and hard at her gut. She cried out in pain and struggled against her bonds as the pain worked deeper. He lunged again, this time aiming for her heart. He bit deep into the pale flesh of her breast, splattering her perfect form with the crimson of her own making. She was fading fast, but not quickly enough that she didn't see the last and fatal snap to her throat. As soon as the light faded from her eyes, the wolf dropped to the floor and began to writhe and contort into the form of a man- her father. When he saw what he had done he could not bring himself to face the reality.

He screamed out a curse to the witch who had done this to him. At this the witch loomed out of the shadows...
"Are you sorry now, for what you did to my daughter?" she snarled.
"Yes" he managed to choke out "I loved your daughter, you must know that. I wish it had been me in her place, every day I wish I could have been taken instead. Please, show me mercy now. I have killed the only two people I have ever loved, I cannot live with myself after this" the witch looked down on the man, finally broken, and made the decision to have mercy on this man, and deemed him punished well enough for stealing her daughter. She walked to her cauldron and took a vile of the bubbling ultramarine liquid.

"This is what you crave" she said as she gave it to the man. He drank it in one swift movement; he crawled over to the ragged form of his dead, broken and bleeding daughter and silently wept, waiting for death to claim him. Within minutes his form had fallen to ashes and were swept up by an invisible force and taken up the chimney stack and out, lost to the gentle caress of the night's soothing fingers.

This tale, only lives in the memory of the witch, and she swore she would never tell a soul. Until now.