A/N: Hey All! Soooo sorry it took me so long! I don't like making excuses, but this time they are actually valid. Well one of them is. I was at camp. Thats the valid one. And I really didn't want to write this scene, as the creative juices weren't flowing. Invalid. oh well, here it is, hope you like it and don't mind any strange occurrences or inconsistencies/ out of character-ness. not to be complaining, but this was a really difficult chapter to write. then again, maybe if there's something that bugged you, you'll message me about it... just maybe. Well, that's all for now; enjoy! =]


Chapter 6: Get. Out.

Thunk, thunk. Her crutch made a loud thump as she pushed and pulled her way up the steep staircase. She held one crutch under her arm and the railing with her other hand, attempting to keep her weight off her bad ankle. After ten minutes worth of exertion, she made it to the shadowy landing, where she stopped to regain her breath. The landing was barely lit by the one dim light bulb in the ceiling above her, and the shadows gave the place an eerie, foreboding look. At last, Clara turned to the doorway that was her final destination, the doorway into which the Beast had disappeared. No light shone through the door, and the room within was even darker than the barely lit landing. Summoning her courage, Clara limped forward and pushed the old door further open with a loud creak. She made to slip into the room, but at that moment, the mysterious breeze appeared once more, plucking at the cloth at her back, trying to pull her away from the door. However, Clara was not to be dissuaded, and she pushed herself free of the breeze, stepping cautiously into the room.

Clara could tell the room had once been a place of great beauty. The scraps of furniture lying around the musty room were all intricately carved and engraved. The scraps of curtains hanging from the dirty windows were finely embroidered, and Clara could see the remnants of a gold trimmed chandelier that had once hung from the tall ceiling. There was a dusty four-poster bed on one side of the room, but the mattress and pillows had been torn to shreds and white feathers blanketed the bed and the surrounding floor like new-fallen snow.

Clara turned again, taking in more of the dim room as her eyes adjusted to the gloominess. Her eyes skimmed over the broken remains of a mahogany dresser, and finally fell on a pink sort of glow coming from behind a dark curtain on the other side of the room. She tiptoed over to the curtain, and with a wary hand, pulled on the fabric. The curtain opened to reveal a smaller room that adjoined the larger bedchamber, and in the center of the round windowed room stood a small, round table. The table was trimmed in gold, and the legs were curled and carved, so thin and delicate the table seemed to float above the ground. There was a small hand mirror on the floor beside the table, but Clara barely registered its presence. No, it was what sat on the small table that held Clara's rapt attention. Underneath a thin glass dome floated a pinkish red rose the size of Clara's fist, suspended in full bloom with a long green stem adorned with three wickedly sharp thorns. Beneath the floating flower, lying abandoned on the table under the dome was a lone petal, curled to perfection, sitting face up on the table. The rose glowed with a pinkish light in the dimly lit alcove, and as though in a trance, Clara moved toward the table, one hand reaching up to the top of the dome where a glass knob served as a slight handle. Her hand hovered over the top of the dome, and she was about to grasp the glass and pull it away, when she heard a muffled step behind her.

ARRRGGG! A furred paw tore through the air in front of her, slamming painfully into her chest, knocking her back several feet to land in a pile on the floor in the larger room. She looked up, and saw the shadowy form of the beast towering over her. A low growl emitted continuously from his throat, and Clara shrank back in fear from his cold steel eyes that glared piercingly into her own. When he spoke, his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but the anger and hatred was so ripe in his voice that it chilled Clara to the bone.

"Get. Out."

Clara did not have to be told twice, scrambling to her feet and grabbing her crutches, she hobbled and shuffled her way out of the room, practically falling down the stairs in her haste. The Beast did not call after her, and no more sound came from the dark room, but Clara felt as though the cold grey eyes still bored into her with the same hatred and menace as they had when he stood over her. Not even bothering to grab her old clothes from her room, Clara limped straight to the front hall. Wrenching the large wooden door open with a hideous screech, she ran as fast as her ankle would allow out onto the porch, slamming the door behind her. The landscape before her was white with two feet of snow, and more of the icy mix continued to pelt from the sky, obscuring Clara's vision past two feet in front of her. Taking a deep breath of icy air, she trundled out into the snow, straining to keep her crutches moving with the rest of her body. The going was slow, and Clara had not made it five feet before she regretted not taking a coat on her way out the door. However, her stubborn side kicked in, and she refused to turn around, instead forcing herself forward, blocking her mind from the bone numbing cold and sharp pain each time her good foot hit stepped into the thick snow. Only her ankle felt better than it had back in the mansion, the snow serving as a continual ice pack, numbing the pain. Clara continued in this manner—wrenching her crutches forward into the snow, and then swinging her body up and over the snow bank to land a foot farther than before—until the seconds seemed to take an age and the minutes passed like hours…


Nathaniel was scared. Never before had he been so terrified in his life. If she had ruined the rose, he would have been trapped in his beastly form forever. As his breathing slowed, and the adrenaline left his brain, he thought back to his encounter with the girl, and for the first time in his life felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps he didn't need to be so hard on her, he thought. After all, she was rather pretty when she wasn't so terrified. Perhaps he should go apologize to her, he thought briefly before immediately dismissing the idea. Apologies were for the weak, or so his father had always told him. No, he would continue on as before, and hope her ankle healed itself soon, so he could be left to wallow in self-pity. He was about to shut the curtain on the glass-covered rose, when a spot of blue outside caught his eye. The girl had been wearing a blue dress, he thought absently, before turning away. He was halfway across the room, when he stopped in his tracks. A blue dress? Oh no, not again, he thought, running hurriedly back to the window. He pressed his face against the windowpane, but jumped back and swiped his hand on the glass when his breath made the window fog up. He had not been mistaken. There, several feet below him, was the thin form of the girl, trudging through the snow down the sidewalk. He watched in horror as one of her crutches became locked in the snow, and she toppled sideways against the building before sliding slowly down the wall to curl in a fetal position on the ground, her strength leaving her at last. A low growl sounded from his throat, and Nathaniel threw himself out of the room and down the stairs, pausing only briefly to grab his enormous scarlet cloak before he rushed out the door. It was as though fate had decided to play a mind trick on Nathaniel, and the sense of déjà vu was so strong he had to force himself onwards, clearing his mind with a rough shake of his head. The snow was much thicker now compared to the night before, and even Nathaniel in his animalistic form had difficulty trudging through the snow. Nevertheless, he made it to the bit of wall where Clara sat curled into herself to preserve her warmth. Glancing at her for a moment, Nathaniel bent down and scooped her up in his arms, abandoning the obstinate crutches in favor of returning the girl to the warmth of the house. Nathaniel did not know the words that came from his mouth, but had Clara been awake, she would have heard, in a low, gruff voice, the words, "Hang in there," "Don't leave me just yet" and "Stay with me, love."


Clara had been losing her strength fast. Every tug of the crutches became more difficult and with every swing of her body, it seemed to Clara's cold-numbed mind that she gained five pounds in doing so. When at last the crutch refused to be yanked from the snow, the last vestiges of her strength left her, and she collapsed against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground. With a whimper of pain, she pulled her knees up to her chin, and sat in the cold, damp snow, shuddering with shivers and the occasional sob. The longer she sat there, the less logical her train of thought became until she was sure that the icy wind pelting against her face was the icy tail of a wolf pacing in front of her, preparing itself for its easiest meal. When one of her crutches fell and slammed into her knees before sliding, scraping her shins, to the floor, she was sure that it was the teeth of another wolf getting its first taste of her blood. With ever passing moment, her imagination became more and more creative, until there was an entire pack of man-eating wolves and saber-tooth tigers—never mind that they were extinct—growling menacingly in front of her, fighting over who got which part of her body. At this point, however, she was jostled and pulled into something large and warm that banished in a single moment all the enormous predators trying to devour her. With the threat gone, she snuggled into the warmth, desperate to thaw out every inch of her nearly frostbite body. After what seemed like only moments, she was hit with a huge rush of warm air, and a loud bang brought her slightly to her senses. When she glimpsed the large fireplace and velvety couch sitting at attention facing it, which seemed to be her destination, she remembered suddenly, the mansion, before loosing consciousness like the switch of a light. Her last coherent memory was of grasping her savior's shirt tightly in her numb hands and snuggling farther into his long, musky-scented fur, but at that point, Clara blacked out.


A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm back in a slightly strict routine, so the next chapters should come out quicker! sorry! please Review! I know I've dropped the ball on the whole updating thing, but please please, and I'm begging here, please review! trust me, guilt trip is your best weapon at this point! Thanks!

Westhaven18: Sorry Sorry Sorry! gosh, I seem to be saying that a lot! No, I'm not abandoning this story, and I hope you're around to read the updates! hope you enjoyed this chapter, there will be more on the way!

To all my other reviewers, shame on you! I didn't get a single review of last chapter. It wasn't that bad, was it? Okay, maybe I'm not one to talk, but still, you've stuck with me this far, please-y please don't abandon me now, and I won't abandon you, I promise!

Anyways, main message here, Please review!

xoxo A-N