Chapter 13

Honeymoon's Over

It was the first night of March, and it was still very cold and snowy. The trees and ground were coated in a layer of ice from an earlier freezing rain. Clouds obscured the moon leaving the forest dark and shadowy. Nothing moved except for one small shadowy form that drifted from tree to tree. It was definitely not an animal, for it walked upright like a man, but it wasn't exactly a man either. It had a tail and a pair of yellow glowing eyes and it had an odd gait. No man had a tail or such eyes. The shadow was Azazel and he had some important business to attend to.

He smoothly darted from shadow to shadow, using his night sight to make himself invisible to any human observer. He tried to stick to walking on patches of ice so he left little if any trail in the snow in case any hunters crossed his old path. At one point he even skated down a frozen stream to avoid any possible detection. He strived to be a phantom shadow, a night wraith that left no trace of ever existing. Azazel had no desire to have some hunters tracking him down and turning him into a floor rug.

No, he would much rather meet up with his beautiful Raven. The very thought of her brought a crooked smile to his face. His pace picked up slightly and his heart raced in anticipation. He could barely wait to see her again. The way she spoke and moved was like natural poetry. Her dark red hair, deep blue skin, and misty gray eyes created a vibrantly exotic figure that left him in awe. The way she touched him was electrifying and exciting beyond words. The more he thought of her, the faster he went, until he was nearly running from shadow to shadow.

He recalled his first few 'special' encounters with her with a mix of embarrassment and happiness. He'd had absolutely no idea what he was doing then. His knowledge of sex was pathetically limited and purely theoretical. So when it was time to perform his part of things he stumbled through like an idiot. Mystique had been forced to tell him exactly what he was supposed to do, step by step. But, while very embarrassing, these first few times were valuable learning experiences for him.

No longer was he the clumsy virgin who needed to be told what to do. He wouldn't call himself an expert yet, but he was certainly experienced enough to make it interesting. He could now give them both a pleasurable experience without having to follow Mystiques instructions. A few times he'd even managed to surprise her and those moments gave him the most pride. He was definitely more fun than that grouchy, cold, sterile, old man that she was married to.

And as his skill in pleasure grew, the locations of their activities changed. After a few rolls in the outdoors snow began to fall making it necessary to move their activities indoors. In order to keep things hidden from prying eyes they would move into the empty, abandoned tool shack for a few hours every night. It was a tight fit, but it provided adequate shelter and some warmth so that they could have their fun without catching a cold. But when the Count went off on a month-long business trip and left his wife behind things went to a whole new level.

Mystique dismissed most of the servants after her husband left, keeping only one maid and one cook. With only two people to avoid Mystique felt that it would be safe enough to let him in for short periods. At night when both servants left for their homes Azazel had almost unlimited freedom in exploring the Count's mansion. He was able to take a few real showers, eat fresh warm food, and he even slept in a guest room once in a real bed. And they were free to fool around with each other as they pleased, where ever they pleased, even in the bed that Mystique shared with her husband. It was a fleeting glimpse of heaven and he was sorry to see her husband's return.

With the Count's return the servants came back, and they were forced to take their activities back to the tiny tool shed. Azazel missed the beds, the warm food, and the sense of freedom, but as long as he could still see her he wouldn't complain. Instead, he trotted several miles every night to the Count's estate to collect his food and have a little fun with the Countess. His grin had grown so large that it threatened to break his face and he was moving so fast he nearly slipped on nearly invisible patches of ice. The sooner he got there, the better.

At the edge of the forest he put on the brakes and slid to a complete halt. He waited until his breathing slowed back down to its regular rhythm and his heart calmed itself somewhat. Once he was firmly back in control, he slipped up an icy tree and gazed out over the grounds of the Count's estate. He studied the intricate decoration of the massive building and the snow covered landscaping. One quarter of the expensive windows were lit showing how empty the building really was. It showed him how truly empty and superficial the world of the rich was.

A shadowed figure detached itself from the mass of the mansion as hurried in his general direction. With his enhanced sight it was obvious who it was. Mystique was holding his basket of food and rushing over the white ground towards the tree line like she feared something. Azazel's mood swiftly shifted from barely contained excitement to deep concern. She never hurried over to him. She walked slow and stately, awing him and driving him mad with impatience at the same time. Something must be wrong.

He waited high up in the tree, still as stone. Only when she was out of sight from the mansion did he dare move over to where she stood. Her odd behavior and the sense of wrongness drove him to move slowly and with great caution. He slipped down from a tree and crept the last few yards to her side on the ground. His stealth was so great that when he tapped Mystique on the shoulder she jumped and turned to strike him. When she recognized him, she relaxed and dropped her human façade revealing her true blue form.

"Something is wrong, isn't it." Azazel bluntly stated.

"Yes," Mystique hissed ill-temperedly.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Dieter is having one of his paranoid spells and forbids me to leave the house for any reason unescorted. He believes that I am having an affair with a woodland spirit for all the time I spend outdoors at night." She snorted derisively. "I was able to slip away this time, but it will be the last time." She replied and pressed the food basket into his hands.

"When will he let you out again?" Azazel asked fearfully.

"I don't know, but definitely not anytime soon. In fact, I shall be so guarded that I will not be able to leave any food for you, so do not come here and expect any." She muttered.

"When will I know that it is safe to come back." He wondered.

"I will hang a brightly colored handkerchief from my window." She replied absently, looking nervously over her shoulder. "I've taken too long already, I must go." She declared and resumed her disguise.

Without a backward glance she marched back toward her husband's house and her personal prison. Azazel stood numbly in the shadows and watched her go. In an instant it was all over. She was beyond his reach and he was once more alone. His source of food and a few other essentials had vanished. He was lost, adrift, and lacking purpose. Azazel wilted and sank down onto the cold hard ground. What was he supposed to do now?

In the darkness of his despair a flash of hope appeared and he latched onto it. She said that she would give him a signal when it was safe for him to return. That meant she wanted him back and all he had to do was wait. It would be a painful dull existence without her, but he'd survived just fine for the eighteen years of life that he'd lived before meeting her so he could easily survive a few months away. The only problem he could see was his food supply. He could make what he had stretch over a few days, but no longer than that.

He could try hunting and trap setting. Now that he had a permanent residence in his cave he was free to range around in search of food without worrying where he would sleep or get his drinking water. With a knife that Mystique had lent him he could try stalking small forest creatures and stabbing them. But to be successful with that technique he would need plenty of practice so setting simple traps and snares would have to sustain him until then. And if he was a complete failure at hunting and trapping he could still fall back on fishing.

With his new plan and purpose in mind Azazel stood up and headed for his cave. He left the same way he came, darting through shadows and exercising great stealth. If he was caught now he would risk dragging Mystique down with him and he didn't want to do that. He owed her far too much to do something so terrible to her. She had saved his life, nurtured him back to health, and shown him sensual pleasure that he had feared that he would never experience after his transformation. Honestly, what ordinary woman would willing sleep with him? She had given him a new lease on life and for that he would be forever grateful.

What a rollercoaster this night had been. First he was happy and excited to see Mystique and indulge in adult pleasures. Then he was crushed by suddenly being cut off from her and left out in the cold alone. And finally he was renewed with new determination to hold on until his world was restored to its proper order. Grinning once more Azazel slipped into his cozy cave, set his last basket of food aside, and curled up on a sleeping pallet he had made of dead leaves, pine needles, and dried out vegetation. After properly arranging his bedding he let out a final sigh and slid into his black dream world completely at peace.