Red's Wolf

Five

To be taken so mercilessly without a passing thought or glance, to be claimed without acknowledging that she too was master of herself. No, she had never been her own master, she had allowed the men and women to govern her simply because they could. Never to say a word of protest, perhaps because punishment would soon progress. And that is the scene you, dear reader have come upon, opened yourself to because Rosalyn has become a part of you, she's claimed you, as much as she's taken hostage of I, your writer. Let us continue this journey together, to see if you, I, or Rosalyn, get the ending we all crave. We have only just begun.

Hands belonging to her father, fingers of the village seamstress, nails of the butcher's children. Hands, hands, hands, everywhere upon her. Pulling, wrenching, scraping, clawing, tearing, obliterating. Foul screams from the Priest condemning her soul, ill words of contempt from her cousins. Devil's mistress, conniving harlot, seduced strumpet. It seemed the entire village had come to the town square to take part in her shameful homecoming. To add their two cents to the whoring woman who had thrown her father's honor in the coals and burnt each stone of innocence. Such a disappointment she had become, given way to her own guilty pleasures, allowed them to lead her to this.

Ingred's hands clasped around his daughter's face, and her eyes burned as the stench of vodka massacred her face.

"How, Rosalyn," his slurred voice spat on her, "How could you do this to me?" Bloodshot eyes wild with rage and shame, she could not look away. "Consorting with such a creature. What have you become?" Her tongue felt too heavy to move and create a sentence that might end this torture. Nothing she could say would save her now, in their eyes she had sinned, retribution was her present and future.

Someone's hand struck her cheek, force of it causing her face to whip to one side. The cold tears she had contained fell down her face. Excruciating heat sizzled her her skin as an imprint faded on her face.

"Insolent girl, your father asked you a question." The Priest's voice rang through her ears, damaging her drums infinitely so. "He expects an answer." Rosalyn slowly found the courage to look at him, at them all. Their faces were marred with disgust, savagery, and bloodlust. And she realized then, that they all expected an answer, felt like they deserved one because once they all had a claim to her. Her silence only lit the match to an unwavering anger that they could not, would not singe.

The hands continued their onslaught, slicing her tender arms that were tied behind her back. Steel blades ate away at the cloth that covered her, they worked to bear her to the world. She could not scream, could not fight for herself, could not do anything. They had her captive at the very altar that had been made just for her, for her marriage. Her vision drifted up, looking at the dead flowers that had been strung from a wood covering. The darkened petals were black, a gust of wind blowing them down until they drifted around her, fell in her hair like a crown. A pebble was thrown at her forehead then, followed by a stone, then a rock. Each sediment hurting more then the previous one, blood flowed from her nose, from the corners of her mouth, her temples. At once she felt the bruises beneath her skin forming, they would enjoy that seeing her pain, seeing their work in her pain. The scraps that remained on her body were stained in red, and still their eyes were not satisfied. They sought death.

A minty aroma came from behind her, a moment of comfort was offered then taken away. Her hair was sharply pulled back until her head bent at an odd degree, leaving her neck exposed. Her cousin's jade gaze locked with her own, pity and disgust evident.

A male hand, a bitter cold hand encircled around her throat. Drifted beneath the fabrics she wore, until they found the mark that would forever be on her body. Someone called for more rope, they wrapped it around her neck, tightened it continuously. She could not breathe, she gasped for air, they laughed taunting her. A sharp dagger caressed her throat.

"A father's honor lies between the legs of his daughter. You have tarnished my reputation, my trust, my everything. You are no daughter of mine." Through her war for air her father whispered his last words in her ear, sounding like a reptile. "The Priest, will put your soul out of its misery Rosalyn."

Her father left her side and the Priest moved unnervingly close to her, forcing her body against his. The dagger was raised high in the air, and he brought it down with agile speed, a well seasoned killer he didn't even flinch.

Before her skin was broken apart and her essence could wash her sins away, and stain those that were near, someone spoke.

"Stop." A single command that was spoken by someone who always got their way. But who dare stop what was about to transpire? The dagger paused midway, the Priest growled in anger before turning to look at the speaker, his grasp on her loosened.

"Theron!" He exclaimed in surprise, "You have no-"

"Father, I have every right. Whatever or whomever that woman may be, she is still my fiance. If anyone guts her like a pig, it will be I." Theron's eyes locked with his father's and the rest of the villagers. Willing anyone to speak against what he said, he was a large man with a dominating aura. Silence flooded the town square.

Rosalyn felt the Priest's grip on her arm tighten with animosity, slowly the ropes were cut from her body, the dagger sheathed into its cover, and her hair released from its prison. Rosalyn took a breath of air, gasping. Someone was pulling her down the altar, her feet hurried to keep up. Unceremoniously she was tossed to the ground, she landed in front of expensive brown leather boots.

A chill she had not felt until now flourished and ravaged her insides, Rosalyn looked up at the man. Silver eyes watched her, the Huntsman had her.

The crowd began to melt away then as if some kind of show had come to its end, her father headed to the local pub, the Priest back to the dark chambers of his church. All the while the Huntsman bent down to her level, until his unnerving eyes were inches away from her face. She could never see him as a whole person, his eyes had always held her as slave, not allowing her to focus on anything else.

"Disaster becomes you," he crooned to her while touching her bloodied face with his fingers. Gently he hoisted her up until she could stand on her feet. Taking his velvet cloak off, he wrapped it around her body. Then he held out a hand to her, "Come."

She went with him, knowing that he was giving her a choice this time unlike the last. However, where would she go? Who would give her sanctuary? She had been shunned by the entire village. All she had left was him. And so he led her on a walk, a peaceful one and he acted like he hadn't just saved her from Death. He offered her bread from a shop, she declined. Hunger had been stolen from her many months previously. He led her through the village, held her close for all to see. Their journey led them through the meadow she had played in as a child, where he had seen her for the first time. The grass stung the open wounds on her legs, and it was her blood that stained the foliage with each footstep. Large woodland trees welcomed them with open branches of blossoms and berries. Birds and butterflies flew past them, and sunshine cascaded down through broken grey clouds.

They walked for a few minutes more although it seemed like hours to Rosalyn. She did not know what he held in store for her, but she would soon find out. The trees became scarce as they approached the edge of the village, they stood on a cliff that overlooked Concave Ocean. Theron stopped walking, while Rosalyn walked right to the edge. The sea glittered full of diamonds or so it seemed, but boulders jaggedly reached out from the waters. God was allowing the people to see that a life of wealth came with a price that your paid with your soul. What to to become of her's?

"Despite everything, I still crave you." He broke the silence, watched the waters crash onto the rocks. She watched as the sky became a heavenly blue. "I can give you everything that you've ever wanted. We can go far from here, into the New World I know you've been dreaming of it."

Rosalyn would have laughed if she could, she didn't know what she wanted anymore. That dream had been sought by the child within her, thinking that she could get away from this life of her's. She could never escape it or him, the man whose mark she bore.

"I'm sure you have a price for a secure future." Her voice was hoarse.

He didn't hesitate to answer, "I need to know where they are, where they nest, I need to rid them from this land before we go."

The hollow that was rooted forever in her heart gnawed at her, she felt pain in that moment. Not for herself but for the Huntsman, and the Beast and then for herself. What kind of lives where these? Every moment was such agonizing pain that it left her mute with anguish and she couldn't even scream. It was all piling up at once, she was ruined, she had nothing left.

"I don't know." A lie. "I don't know where they are, but they probably are already dead." A truth.

"How do you mean?" He asked her.

"Their leader was murdered, its in their nature to follow suit if an Alpha dies."

Silence. This silence stretched until it could be felt.

"Then we leave on the next ship, if you'll have me."

Her head hurt so much, almost as much as her heart. Her world had been torn apart, sewn back together, then severed beyond repair. There was nothing left for her in this world, and there was nothing waiting for her in the new world. She wished the Priest had gone through and allowed the blade to end her life.

Rosalyn turned her back on the horizon to face the Huntsman, a shadow moved behind him in the trees, trick of the light?

"I cannot," she was breaking his heart once more, this time she didn't care. "I'm sorry," she wasn't. "He has every part of me, and there is nothing left for you. I will always be his, and he will always be mine."

"He's gone." Theron wanted to shout at her, but he feared that her sanity was hanging by a thread. If he wasn't gentle he'd lose her forever. "But he's destroying you."

She didn't blink, "Let him." Madness clouded her vision, the kind of madness that plagues someone whose lost the only love that has ever mattered. Even though he had everything, he still couldn't compete with that. Theron could not go up against that, even if he took her with him Rosalyn would be a living ghost. With his own heart crumbling into ash he turned away from her and walked away.

Rosalyn looked at the sun that had begun to set, she looked at the beautiful colors that washed the word in orange and red and pink. She stood basking in the scenery of an extraordinary summer sunset. Nightfall came shortly after, the stars glittering in a dark sky while the moon hung low. Her body ached for something she could not have, he had ruined her.

She closed her eyes and walked the few remaining inches over the cliff, her body airborne.

Rosalyn jerked awake as someone splashed a bucket of freezing cold water over her. She gasped as the icy liquid dripped down her body through her clothes. Eyes adjusting to the light around her. A blond woman was standing over her with a wooden bucket. She looked annoyed.

"You were whining and whimpering all night," she possessed a thick southern tribe accent. "I haven't been able to catch a wink of sleep. Do you know how irritating that is?" Not waiting for an answer the woman huffed off through a door muttering to herself.

Rosalyn looked around, she was in a cottage of some sort, the memory of her nightmare already fading away into the deep corners of her mind. Bedspreads filled the entire room, she slowly got up and followed the woman who had just left. Sunlight streamed into a clearing, a fire had been started and a few women were huddled around it laughing and eating soup. A steaming bathhouse was a few yards away from the fire, and there was a line of more women. Some impatiently knocking on the stone cemented door. There had to be at least forty women here, where ever 'here' was. They were all dressed in the same beige gowns, Rosalyn looked down at her own sopping dress. She walked towards the fire but before she could reach it, someone had grabbed her arm. She tried to twist away and free herself but found that the old woman was much too strong.

An old aged woman dressed in grey robes held onto her in a strong grip. Her long silver hair ran in waves down her back, while her wide blue eyes watched her hauntingly. Her lips moved quickly in a whisper before she began to chant in an ominous deep voice, attracting everyone's attention.

Docile female, what's so bad about it female? Be swept away in the madness that is him, you know you want it female even though you hate it. He will take you only to break you, so he can make you be enslaved to his ways. Docile female, what's so bad about it female? Be swept away in the madness that is him, you know you want it female even though you hate it. A need so profound that he can no longer ignore let alone control, but then again what is control? Just a ruse to show others how far one has come from their deadly passions, when one is still dabbling with the devil. Devil, devil oh what a devil he'll be to you female, do you think you can take it female? Can you even begin to understand the repulsive ways he'll use you female, until nothing remains of you...

A foreboding sense of danger swept through her then, where in the hell was she? She was just about to voice her frustration and fear when the woman who had doused her with water came back.

"Babet! Come off of it now, just because she's new doesn't mean you should terrorize her." Pulling the old woman off of her and shooing her away, she sighed. "She can't sleep already don't make her more afraid!"

"Oh Hester, you never let me have any fun!" The woman Babet exclaimed in a normal pitch, while pouting like a child. She narrowed her eyes at the blond, before looking at Rosalyn. "I'm sorry dear, me and the elders have a bet going to see who can scare the fresh meat the most." Babet gave Rosalyn a charming smile and sheepishly waddled off into the clearing.

"Don't worry about Babet's gibberish she's batshit crazy but means well. She think's she a Witch." Hester said while handing Rosalyn a dry gown. "Sorry about the water, some of us need our beauty sleep, can't all look as beautiful as you." The slender blond was talking so fast Rosalyn almost couldn't understand her.

Pushing the dark tendrils of black hair away from her face, Rosalyn asked her "Where am I? Where are we?" She waved at the area full of women.

Hester looked around, "Darlin' we're in a clearing."

"Yes but, how did I get here... why am I here?" Rosalyn didn't know what was going on. The last thing she remembered was that she had run away from her home. She had gotten caught in a trap, then a man had saved her. Rosalyn's eyes widened as she almost choked, her fingers flew up to her lips. "He brought me here." She whispered to herself. Hester looked at Rosalyn like she was the crazy one. "What is this place Hester?"

"Your in the Cove," Hester started, "You were selected to be a mate."

Confusion marred Rosalyn's face, "What does that mean?"

"In three days the Blood Moon will be upon us, the men- the creatures that brought us here are going to set us free." Hester sighed. "Then they'll hunt us like cattle to claim us." Her fingers unbuttoned her high collar to reveal a brutal bite she had received. It spanned the entire column of her neck and was purple and blue.

"What? I- I don't want that! Can't we just leave?" Rosalyn felt the blood in her body grow cold.

Hester looked off into the trees that surrounded them, Rosalyn followed her gaze. "We can't, their watching us."