CHAPTER 8

THEY had ridden for what felt like hours, though in the Wolves' Woods, there was no telling how fast or slow time had passed here. As Gaston pulled his horse to a stop in a secluded clearing of the forest, he'd kept the two of them off the main path, fearful that they were sure to be spotted to the prince's forces, assuming he had already sent the word out to someone to go after them with the intent of dragging them back kicking and screaming to the dungeons where they were sure to await execution.

Belle hadn't spoken a word to them since he had fled with her from the prince's castle. She had sat in front of him forward in the saddle, violently trembling as she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out at the pain in her cheek as every strong gust of wind stung against it, and the biting cold of the winter winds did not help matters either. Gaston could feel Belle tense in his arms as each pain ravaged her entire body.

At first, she tried to put on a brave face quite literally and hide the fact that she was hurting so much from what that pigheaded, foolish guard had done, holding her breath, as if she could make it stop. Then he could sense her slow and long, heavy breaths during the last few attempts during the last few, as Belle futilely realized that there was no use doing it. Pensively, Gaston dismounted his horse, his nervous eyes scanning the vicinity in every direction this way and that. Nervous with concern for Belle, he was hardly able to breathe as he gingerly helped Belle to the solid ground.

The hunter made certain that the young woman was steady enough on her own two feet before removing his supportive grip from around her arm. She braced herself against his horse's side, her face already wearing the fear of an escaped fugitive who was expecting the very worst.

"Why are we stopping?" Belle asked, uneasily, afraid.

His hand instinctively went to the hilt of its sword in his sheath, and then again to the bow and arrow in its quiver on his back. "I need to find something for you to eat," Gaston explained softly. "To keep up your strength." He tried to smile at her, though even just that felt strained.

Belle numbly shook her head and flinched at the white-hot pain that shot up her cheek. "I'm not hungry," she told him, her worried expression showed nausea she felt.

Gaston grew even more worried, not to mention that much more agitated. "But I don't know if I'll get another chance to stop," he reminded her. "Your wound needs tending to, or infection could set in, but I'd much rather you try to eat something small first, milady. Please…"

She looked at him incredulously. "Papa and I have barely been fed for months," she informed him with as much of a sneer as she could manage, though even the slightest twitch of any muscle on the injured side of her face was looking like it was causing his love an immense pain, which only sent hot surges of anger in the pit of his stomach for what his former friend had done to Belle.

Gaston slumped his shoulders as yet again, Belle had stubbornly denied his offer when he was only trying to help. He almost cringed to think what her behavior was going to be like when he was going to have to be the one to tend to her cheek, having done it a time or two in battle.

Gaston scanned the area for something he could use to care for her immediate needs, which in this case meant the proper equipment to stitch her cheek, and preferably if there was a house nearby, if someone happened to live in these accursed Wolves' Woods, though they would be crazier than old Maurice to do such a thing, a shelter was first and foremost what they needed.

As if on cue, a blood-curdling howl from a wolf that did not sound quite like any ordinary wolf or creature that Gaston had ever heard rent through the nighttime air.

Such was the noise that it caused the hairs on both Gaston and Belle's necks to stand upright in alarm and awe. For just a moment, Gaston felt a twinge of a fear prick at his heartstrings, and the hunter cursed himself for it.

"Rest then, milady, for a moment," Gaston suggested, motioning towards a pile of what looked like fallen timber a few feet away. He wished it were a stack of fine goose feather-down pillows instead, as Belle deserved the finest comforts in life that money could buy. Eager to rest, Belle accepted and took a seat on the log without a word.

Belle leaned heavily against the rough, bark-covered trunk. The scratching of the wood through her thick fur-lined cape and her dress was almost a welcome distraction from the pain that had been mounting in her cheek as blood continued to pour and stain right through her blue dress.

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes, and let out a long, deep exhale, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms as it took all of her willpower not to touch the injury upon her cheek that was sure to leave a grisly scar.

Gaston chewed on the wall of his mouth as he assessed her wound with a carefully trained eye, and he flinched.

There was sure to be scarring, he knew, though his Belle would still be as pretty and as beautiful as ever, and he would ensure that she knew that. And the rest of the village for that matter and anyone who disagreed with his opinion of his future bride would either find themselves staring face-to-face with a notched arrow, or straight into the barrel of his hunting rifle for voicing such a heinous and slanderous thought. That Belle could ever be anything but beautiful as her very name suggested was ridiculous, no matter how many scars she would bear.

"Are you alright?" Gaston asked her, clearly distressed, though he tried to remain calm, for Belle's sake. Belle bravely nodded as a muscle in her jaw gave a spasm, though thankfully, not on the side of her face that was wounded, without opening her eyes to look over at him.

The tension between the hunter and the painter and the inventor's daughter was almost unbearable at the second.

Still keeping her lids squeezed tightly shut, Belle drew in a shuddering breath and spoke, her voice sounding faint.

"Villeneuve is to the east, Gaston. Why are you taking us west?" she questioned, having seen they were heading in the wrong direction, and not heading back for home.

"Huh? What?" Gaston whispered. He didn't have the time to plan for their escape back to the prince's castle.

His only concern had been and still was to get Belle somewhere safe so her injury could be treated and the two of them could rest.

In his mind, that had meant riding until hopefully they stumbled upon the one place that he had in mind that he knew was close by, a home inhabited with two kind souls willing to take in two weary travelers and one in dire need of medical attention immediately, though it mattered not that they did not know his Belle. It wasn't his best plan, admittedly, but it was a plan, really.

Now, he could only hope the two souls he had in mind were willing to take the two of them in. He prayed for it.

Finally, Belle opened her eyes and regarded Gaston with trepidation as she raised her eyebrows in suspicion at him.

"You're not taking us back to the village, back home." Her statement was more of an accusation than an inquiry.

"Belle, I—I'm sorry, but that's the first place Adam's men are likely to look for you, for us," Gaston apologized, shaking his head sympathetically, understanding that of course, Belle wanted to go back home to see her father. "I don't know where we'll go after, but I do have a place in mind we could take shelter, at least for tonight. They're…an old family acquaintance. I do intend to see you back to the village, Belle, but it might be a couple of days yet. Let's let the prince's men conduct their search, and when they do not find us where they expect us to, then I'll take you back home to your father. Let me deal with Adam."

He was desperate to earn Belle's trust and her love. Belle was quiet for a moment, wanting to run for Gaston's horse and just gallop away and leave the hunter here to find his own way back. He was a tracker, he could manage just fine on his own out here in the wilderness.

She would go home, no matter what, but she knew she couldn't like that. Instead, she glowered at Gaston.

"What if that's what you would have me believe?" she accused, narrowing her dark eyes, breathing heavily. Gaston leaned as near to Belle as she would possibly allow. Confused, the hunter could not follow the direction of her thoughts, thinking she was becoming delirious.

"I don't understand, Belle," he told her. "All I want is to get you out of this cold, to safety, and your cheek tended."

"Is it?" Belle indicted mistrustfully. Her stare that told Gaston that she did not trust him tore his heart to shreds.

"Of course." He looked at her, offended, wounded, and worried, not sure where this behavior was stemming from.

"Maybe that was your plan all along!" Belle hotly accused, grinding her teeth, and shivering from the cold.

"Plan?" Gaston stared back at Belle in anger and bewilderment, hardly daring to believe his own ears.

"Yes. Plan!" Belle shot back. "To—to marry me," she cried as she argued her point suspiciously. "Did you and the prince plan that bloody massacre back at the castle, Gaston?" she shouted, raising a shaking hand, and pointing with a trembling finger back the way they came. "That you would let this happen to me," Belle screamed loudly, gesturing angrily towards her wounded cheek, "only so that you could save me, and I'd consider you my handsome hero and that I would finally agree to marry you, is that it?" she shouted, staggering backward.

"To…what…" Gaston tried to repeat. "Belle. No…" Words were not forming in his mind as he desperately searched Belle's fearful face. He'd never seen Maurice's daughter react to anything like this with such cynicism and wariness. Something was definitely wrong with her.

Before he could press the conversation, Belle grimaced as another pain seized her cheek. She turned her face away and tried to breathe deeply but could only groan in pain. It only took a half-second for Gaston to reach her side. He knelt beside her, wanting to help but not knowing how. Unless he could find the cottage he had in mind, there was little else that he could do for Belle right now.

Without so much as a second thought, Gaston outstretched his hand and rested it gently on her leg. In the midst of whatever agony Belle was currently experiencing, she tensed and drew quickly back away from him, eager to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed in fear.

Gaston jumped, yanking his hand back as if he had been burned. A hot surge of anger welled within the pit of his broad chest, but not at Belle. He was angry with himself and furious at what had placed such fear and doubt in Belle's heart.

At that moment it took for him to return his inquisitive eyes to Belle's paling face, he realized he had done this to her, had created an even deeper chasm between the two of them than there had existed before.

All the hunter could do was watch as the inventor's daughter's discomfort grew even worse the longer they lingered out here in the bitter cold. She moved one hand from her injured cheek to grasp onto the solid log upon which she sat, her knuckles growing white with effort.

Gaston found himself momentarily envious of that log, wishing that it were his hand for which she'd reached.

After a couple of minutes, her pain subsided and Belle looked over at Gaston with terrified, huge, almond-shaped eyes that he had always loved so much, her mind returning to her suspicion as to the nature of Gaston's intentions towards her.

"You're just going to make me think that I can trust you, Dupont." She voiced her fears as she trembled and shrank into her dress and cape for warmth. "Then you're going to force my hand in marriage when you and I know full well that I couldn't… I never…if I do marry, Gaston, I'd like it to be for love…" Belle nodded, sure of her accusation, and started to cry, despite her best attempts to hold back her tears as she sniffed and lowered her head, letting a dark chocolate curl tumble in front of her face as she did so, not wishing for her savior to see her moment of weakness and her hatred.

"What?!" Gaston stammered, growing increasingly frustrated and worried for Belle, afraid she was losing it. "Please believe me," he begged. "All I care about is you. And despite me hoping that you will choose me, I want you to have that choice. To choose me. I want you willing, Belle, not feeling as though you must choose me by force."

Belle scoffed at him, rejecting the hunter's appeal, and Gaston decided he hated his old friend even more now. This was the cause of her distrust of him, even now, after what he had just done for her. He vowed secretly to himself that Adam was going to die for what he had done.

He itched to take hold of Belle's hand, how he wanted to hold her so badly it was almost a fiery need, but he didn't dare, not yet. He knew he was going to have to earn back her confidence and her trust in him that he had ruined.

"Belle." Gaston's voice now halted by the lump forming in his throat that he tried desperately to swallow back down. "You must believe me. I did not know about any of this." He tried to explain and hoped she would believe him. "Adam never said a word to me. The last I saw of you was the prince's men escorting you away from you and your father's home with your father alongside you. I didn't know, Adam never breathed a word. I—I didn't figure out the rest until back there. I nearly went mad with worry watching those guards take you away. I tried to get word to you, but it was already too late," Gaston recalled softly.

Belle sat trembling and crying, her eyes still closed.

"Belle, look at me." Gaston implored. "Surely, you know what kind of a man Adam Barreau is. He's more a beast than any monster which has ever crawled in these cursed woods," Gaston seethed, hatred in his voice. "I beg you, all that I ask of you right now, is for you to trust me, Belle."

Slowly, Belle opened her eyes and finally looked at him. He paused for a moment, relishing in the joy of simply having her attention back for the moment if nothing else.

"I got you out of there, and I'm going to get you help. It's not far, where I plan to take you, I only pray that they're home and they'll be willing to shelter you for a couple of days." His voice trembled at the implication.

Belle eyed Gaston cautiously. His words in which he spoke appeared genuine. She had seen the pain in the man's eyes before. Just a couple of weeks ago when she had turned down his latest proposal. She sighed sadly.

That had seemed a long time ago. Before she had lost her temper, taken prisoner by the prince's own guards, and threatened, and now terrorized. Belle knew in just a relatively short time span, she had been through entirely too much not to be vigilant with her trust in someone.

She had her Papa to think of. Her father's life was far too important to make the same mistakes she had so far.

Suddenly, Belle could not look Gaston Dupont in the eyes. Her eyes stared into the distance over his shoulder, so hurt that the emotions would not break through the barriers that she had erected around her heart to avoid getting hurt. A sickening sense of dread and fear wormed its way into her heart as she realized that perhaps the best and only way to ensure her father's safety was to go back.

She shivered and gritted her teeth. Back to that monster.

That—that beast. She almost felt dazed as the words left her lips, the voice emanating from her own throat didn't quite sound like herself. She sounded hollow and empty.

"He was your friend once. But if he wasn't that anymore, and you saw what he made that guard do then…why? Why didn't you end it?" she asked, the confusion and disappointment echoing in his ears as she spoke her words.

Damn. She was right. Gaston couldn't deny the truth in Belle's allegations. The weight of his failure to act on it was settling over him like a dark raincloud and his brief, hopeful smile that she was once more talking to him again slid off his face like water falling over rocks. He should have killed Adam before he'd seen Belle away from that wretched castle that bore so many memories, good and bad.

He'd been presented with the perfect opportunity. His sword should have tasted Adam's blood. Of course, it seemed only natural that Belle would think him to be in league with his former childhood best friend and his half-brother, though Belle didn't know that part.

And he hoped that she would never learn the whole truth. None of it was pleasant. His blunder shamed him.

Gaston knelt before the lady, bowing to her in despair and hanging his head.

"You are right, my lovely Belle," he conceded. "Adam's body should be rotting on the cobblestones for what he did to you, and by my hand," he agreed, sorrow seeping its way to the surface of his voice. "You must understand that the man only lives still because of my desperation to not see you get hurt again. Adam was nothing. Just a tool for me to use to keep you safe and get you out of here, a bargaining chip if I needed it." His dark eyes bore deeply into Belle's as he explained. "I was only thinking of you. Just you, Belle. Saving you."

"We'll never be safe, Gaston. I should…I should go back…" she lamented tearfully, clenching her fists in her lap. Her voice now sounded incredibly small and meek.

Had the entire country of France fallen on them? Gaston gaped at Belle, wanting to believe he'd heard her wrong. But Belle was as grim as a graveyard and no jest or humor could be traced in her eyes. She was deadly serious.

"No." Gaston's command escaped his chest, throat, and lips as a low growl, vibrating from the force of his tone.

Belle craned her neck to look up at Gaston, who vehemently shook his head no with a burning want to convince Belle that her idea was foolish and suicidal.

"No. Let me escort you to the home that I have in mind, and then we can plan our route back to the village, Belle."

Belle's face crumpled, threatening to break down into frustrated sobs as she wiped at her eye, her throat hallowing as she swallowed down past a growing lump. Gaston looked at the inventor and painter's daughter with compassion. There had to be something he could do to ease her mind.

And then he remembered. Rising to one knee, he carefully drew his sword at his side from its scabbard and shrugged his crossbow off of its sling, and set it at Belle's feet. Belle tensed in dread, not sure what he was about to do, an instinctive reaction that pained him. He softly rested his sword on the ground at her feet.

Gaston lowered his head in a show of utmost reverence.

"Belle," Gaston began in as calm and collected a tone as he could muster, though he felt anything but calm as a distant guttural roar from what sounded like a creature from the depths of Hell itself rent through the night air, "I am yours from this moment forth, whether or not you will have me. I pledge my sword, my bow, and my life to ensure you seen safely returned to the village, to your father." He stared into Belle's dark eyes with earnest, hoping she would accept his pledge and begin to see the depths for which he cared for her. "I will shield you and guard you with my own life if it comes to that," he vowed as he swore his heartfelt oath at the edge of Belle's boots.

Belle's brown eyes, for perhaps the first time in her life, showed Gaston Dupont a measure of softness and kindness, but only a careful portion. Her expression still remained quite guarded and suspicious of his intentions.

She remembered the leering that he thought she didn't see too many times for her to count back at home in the village. But considering she could detect no traces of malice in the man's voice as he professed his desire to keep him safe, she decided, for now, to give Gaston this at least.

Gaston nodded to her when he was finished with his proclamation and began to sheath his sword. Suddenly, a few yards from the clearing came the sound of wolves.

There were more than a few by the sound of the padding of their paws against the barren earth. Gaston and Belle glanced at each other fearfully. There was no way Gaston could fight off as many as it seemed was approaching.

Gaston clamped a hand over her mouth and waited. Closer and closer the pack of wolves approached until they were almost upon the small clearing that hid the two of them, now fugitives, she supposed, from the prince. Gaston positioned himself in front of Belle and held his sword at the ready, his other arm now flung out protectively in front of Belle. Belle could only quiver in dread, unable even to inhale a good breath of air. The wolves' snouts twitched, scanning the trees that hid the clearing for any sign of whatever the wolves were after.

To their immense relief, the wolves did not see them as they bounded forward, their Alpha giving out a baying howl.

They raced past Gaston and Belle's hiding place, on their way to search for prey elsewhere, thank God. Even as they sighed in relief, Gaston and Belle knew more would be following this pack and were eager to be gone from this clearing.

"We need to go, Belle, now," Gaston urgently proclaimed, standing, and holding out a hopeful hand to Belle in order to help her rise to her feet. "Please."

He was overjoyed, a surge of hope and warmth igniting in his chest as she took it almost without any hesitation.

Belle rose carefully to her feet, aided by Gaston's firm grip on her hand. Though before she could take a step forward, a grimace marred her features, yet another pain ripping through her face. Whatever method the guard had used on Belle to mar her features like this wasn't good.

She reached out to grab the tree against which she had leaned for support and stumbled over the fallen tree log, losing her balance, and nearly plunging face-first to the forest floor. Gaston caught her before she could manage it and held her in his protective embrace until Belle righted herself. Their eyes caught each other's nervous glances.

For a moment, there was nothing between the two of them, and it was as if Belle's hostility and animosity towards Gaston Dupont had never even existed at all.

But then another roar coming from the distance, causing both of their expressions to pale as their heads collectively swiveled back in the direction they'd come, from the prince's castle, rent the air and reminded them of the severity and urgency of how they lingered out here like this.

Unwilling to be patient any longer, Gaston scooped Belle up in his arms and set her back onto his horse as carefully as he could, thanking God Himself the beast had the sense to remain calm even in presence of those wolves.

Nearly jumping into the saddle behind her, he nudged the beast into motion. They could not return to the road. The King's men were sure to patrol, the monarch's finest archers and rangers themselves lying in wait to arrest them both if he knew Adam's scouts.

Instead, he took them deeper into the Wolves' Woods, with Belle tensing in Gaston's arms as her injured cheek was slowly turning numb and leaving her with a horrible burning tingling feeling in its wake that was sure not to be good at all. Both knew there wasn't much time left.

Belle had lost a lot of blood and was sure to go into shock if he couldn't get her to their cottage and fast.

"Where…are you taking me?" Belle managed to gasp out in a weak whisper, her words almost lost on the wind.

It took Gaston a couple of minutes to find his voice.

"A place where I know you'll be safe. LeFou's parents."