Frost Bite

Chapter Four.

Blythe.

Mila helped dress me in a simple dark blue dress that was made of a light material. It had long sleeves and went down to the floor, hiding the black sandals that clad my feet. The neckline dipped low in between my breasts while the back went down to just above my rear. My short hair was braided in various places, giving it a detailed appearance while my lips were stained red from crushed cherries and black charcoal lined my eyes, making them stand out more, despite their already distracting color. She had shown me to the Courtyard where the stable boys were walking horses and knights stood guard around the grounds. Men were pushing carts while others were yelling. I watched the smaller woman disappear back into the castle, leaving me in the freshly fallen layer of snow and surrounded by men who smelt of sweat and alcohol. I sighed, my breath becoming white before I headed for the armory doors that were sat across the Courtyard. I could feel the eyes of men watching me, undressing me but had grown used to it over the years of barely ever wearing any type of clothing. I did however wish that I could've been dressed in something less form fitting. The door was stood slightly open, allowing the cool breeze to brush into the room from the outside. I slipped in through the opening and found that the place was much warmer than I had been expecting it to be. There was an oven, burning hot enough to melt rubies while a man stood over a stone platform, beating a piece of heated steal with a hammer. Close by, Aron stood, inspecting a helmet that the other man had most likely hand forged. Neither of them had yet to noticed me so I stood perfectly still in the straw and dirt which was a welcoming sight in contrast to the constant white I was used to seeing "So tell me about him, this new Commander of the Guard" the man with the hammer insisted, standing upright and removing the helm that was meant to protect his eyes from the heat in order to inspect the piece of metal closely. He was an older man, a few decades or so older than Aron with a white beard, much longer than that of the Huntsman but the same dark eyes as him. For an old man, he was well capable of defending himself from his build. He lowered his helm and went back to beating the metal "She's stubborn, does stupid things and is a pain in my ass" Aron replied, turning the helmet this way and that to inspect the delicate detailing along the sides of it. His bow and arrows were set off to the side and his fur coat hung from a hook on the wall as sweat glistened his bare arms and parts of his exposed chest. The man halted, turning to look back at Aron, once again lifting his helm to expose furrowed brows "She?" he asked, wanting to make sure that he hadn't misheard the hunter. I stepped forward, feet crunching the hay beneath me and caught Aron's attention but the man only noticed me when I spoke up "Yes, she" the Blacksmith turned to face me, his eyes scanning my body as I stood with my shoulders back and my chin held high, hand neatly folded before me, close to my stomach. Aron's hand that had been gripping the helmet fell to his side, his eyes roaming every inch of me from the rings on my fingers to the necklace that still dangled around my neck and down to my partly exposed breasts but they came to a stop at my eyes "And you are?" the older man demanded, looking annoyed that I had entered his sacred workplace. I could tell that he was very protective of everything in that large building from the completed pieces that lined the wall to scrap metal that lay off to the side to the dust that coated the table surfaces. My lips tilted slightly upward "I am the 'she' you were referring to" he looked to Aron for confirmation, his eyes hard as he waited for a reply. I stayed rooted in place, not moving as I watched the two with interest. Aron glanced from me to the man, nodding his head once before he looked to me once more as if he was unable to take his eyes off me for too long "The new Commander of the Royal Guard" the elder man began, giving a breathy laughter after his words as he peeled set the hammer aside and abandoned the steal he had been working on to peel the helm from his head and dump it on a table nearby. he moved towards me, stopping a foot away "When I heard you were a woman I was expecting someone more man than woman but here you are, definitely a woman" he emphasized the last part of his sentence, eyes staring down into the valley of my breasts. Aron noticed and loudly set the helmet down on one of the tables which caught the man's attention, earning the Huntsman a glare. Aron ignored it and continued inspecting a few other things as if nothing had happened. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him act interested in a sword that was mounted on the wall "Ah, a she-wolf" I looked to the man who was watching my mouth intently. My fangs were still larger than usual from having given into my wolf which made them impossible to miss. My eyes glowed blue at his words as if my wolf had heard him through the barrier that separated our minds "That explains it" his eyes flickered over me, taking in my claws, unmarked skin and unusual hair color. Wolves were much more advanced than humans in strength, intelligence and speed but when it came to population, they outnumbered us a thousand to one, making it easy for them to wipe out our entire race. Only a handful of us still existed but if there were any others out there, I had never encountered them before "You know, I once smithed for a wolf" my eyes followed him when he moved to open a scroll of paper, laying it down onto a table after having cleared it. He placed weights at each end of the paper and moved to the opposite end of the room to search for something in a cart of items "Went by the name of Jacks Redwood" the name was a familiar to my ears, an image of the man surfacing in my minds eye. He was a father, a brother and a husband who had been loved by those around him. I had been a little girl at the time when our pack was ambushed and Jacks was our Beta which meant that he was second in Command to my father, the leader of our race and our Alpha "He was my father's younger brother" I announced. Both Aron and the man looked at me, afraid that they had stepped on touchy ground but I barely flinched at the thought of my dead family members, having had many years to deal with their brutal murders. His surname, was my surname, a name I had not used for over a decade, one that signaled Royalty to wolves and I, I was no Royalty, not anymore "He preferred to fight with a sword, one that was hand crafted for him" I remembered. My memory went back to a night by the fireplace, sitting in my uncle's lap with my head on his shoulder as I listened to him tell me stories of the great gods. He was cleaning his sword, a blade he had named Blythesal after his niece whom was more like his daughter, the only child he would know since he was killed before he could have children of his own "I recall its detailing, a hilt wrapped in black leather and encrusted with a sapphire, the blade had an engraving on it in our mother tongue 'Carvore del sentrovi' which means to die with dignity" the man looked shocked for a moment then gave a laugh as he retrieved a piece of charcoal from the crate and moved back over to the paper that was spread out, shaking his head from side to side with his eyes lost in the past "That sword took me over a year to forge to his liking" I smiled at the thought of my uncle, a young man who was as hard headed and stubborn as I was. It was nice to remember things from time to time but memories often came with sadness and pain so I tried my best to avoid thinking about the past. The man reached for a piece of rope "Let us start with the measurements" he said then moved towards me but before he could reach me, Aron appeared in front of him, taking the rope and wrapping it around each of his hands "I'll do it" the old man raised a questionable brow as he watched Aron walk over to where I was stood. He took a stand in front of me and I lowered my arms to my sides, raising my chin just a bit when he wrapped the rope around my neck. I could feel him tightening it more than what was needed, his eyes locking onto mine when did so. He then loosened it to get a proper measurement "By the grace of the gods" the old man exclaimed, throwing his head back in loud roar of laughter that filled the entire room. Aron removed the rope and turned to look at him in annoyance "My boy's smitten" he continued to laugh, his hand slamming down onto the table surface. It was then that I realized the older man was Aron's father. His words registered in my mind and I turned my head away, looking in the opposite direction while the man brought his laughter under control "You've got a job to do old man" Aron reminded him, his jaw set tight and his eyes slightly narrowed as he looked at his father. The man nodded and uttered a low "Right, right" before Aron gave him the measurements for my throat to scribble down onto the brown paper with the charcoal. Aron turned back to me, wrapping the rope around my chest, his knuckles gliding over my right n****e as he worked, making it peak as he brought the rope together in the canyon of my cleavage. This went on for some time with Aron taking the measurements of each body part then calling them out to his father to scribble down and sketch out a template of my armor. He moved to my waist then down to my hips, wrapping the threat around my rear and to the front where he brought it together very close to my core. I sucked in a breath and then let it out in uneven sessions. Aron noticed, his eyes flickering up from his hands to meet my eyes for a brief moment. I removed the rope and dragged a stool closer "If you will?" he motioned for me to place my foot on the stool. I hiked up the skirt of my dress and did as he wanted me too. He started off at my calve, once again wrapping the rope around it then stood upright, his hands pushing the skirt of my dress up higher until he was very much close to my entrance. He moved to measure my thigh, his hand brushing over me almost intentionally. I gasped and gripped his shoulder with my hand, claws digging into his skin, drawing small droplets of blood. The wound didn't seem to bother him as he worked, his hands moving away from me again to speak to his father as if nothing had happened.

Aron.

I went to measure her thigh, half pushing her dress up, half sticking my hands in underneath to get the top of it when the back of my hand brushed across something warm and wet. Blythe gasped, a small sound that reached my ears even before her hand clasped down on my shoulder, claws digging into the exposed flesh and muscle. Pain shot through my arm but it was replaced by a pulse between my legs at her aggressive touch. I quickly moved to place some distance between us and turned my back to her, reading the measurements to my father. He set the charcoal down when Blythe stepped down from the stool and let her dress drape to the floor "What style would you prefer?" my father asked, motioning towards the table as he took the rope from me, wrapping it around one of his hands. She danced across the dirt and hay to glance at the rough sketches that had been drawn in black on the sheet of paper. Her fingertips danced over it, smudging the work "What are you-?" my father began to demand but she ignored him, reaching for the coal to begin scribbling something down on the paper, not bothering to use the measurements as she worked, her white palms quickly turning black. When she was done, she tossed the charcoal aside and tore the piece of paper from the rest, turning and holding it up for us to see "I require something less restricting" she explained. The picture she had drawn was of a two piece armor, the top going down to just below her breasts in a breast plate that was layered in various patterns of metal. The neck and upper part of the breasts was covered in thin chain mail while standard cup caressed the shoulders. The wrists had bands of steel wrapped around them while the hips had a type of skirt that was also layered in metal, similar to that of the top piece. The armored boots only went up to just above the knee area "If I have to shift, I don't want the struggle of removing the armor first" she added, her eyes meeting those of my father. He studied the sketch for a few moments then took it from her, fingers scratching at his white beard as he contemplated her suggestion "Shift?" the question slipped past my lips before I even had the time to process it. Blythe looked up at me, a light smile coating her redder than usual lips while my father stood upright, crossing his muscular arms over his chest "Tell me Aronis, do you know why wolves are called wolves?" I had never met a wolf before Blythe, never really heard stories about them either except that they were strong, blood thirty creatures that had human faces but were far from human. My father only ever used my full name when he was deadly serious. He glanced back at me from over his shoulder "It is because their bodies are able to-." he fell silent when Blythe's hand landed on his shoulder. He turned his head to her and she held out the piece of paper for him to take. He took it with a creased forehead "Let me show him, smith" they watched each other for some time before my father gave a stern nod. He turned to me, shook his head then addressed Blythe once more "You may call me Vern, my lady" she bowed her head slightly in respect then began moving towards the door, pausing only briefly to look back at me with eyes that asked whether I was coming or not. I was unsure but I grabbed my coat from the wall and followed her out into the Courtyard. She lead the way, swerving in and out of men and horses and carts until she reached the back gates that lead out into the forest that was part of the castle grounds. She smiled back at me then began running, kicking her sandals off as she went, almost begging me to hurry after her, like a hunter tracking down a helpless doe. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress and her hair began to come undone from its braid as she bounced in between the layers of snow. I tugged my coat on and followed her into the wall of trees where she toyed with me, her body dancing around trees and eventually coming to a stop in the middle of it all, looking up at the grey sky in between the dead tree branches. Her back was bare and her grip seemed to tighten on the royal blue material of her dress as I neared, heavy boots crunching in the snow "Promise me something" her voice, a voice rough yet sweet and alluring said, blue eyes looking back at me and glowing brightly like they had when my father had called her out on being a wolf. I stopped dead in my tracks, realizing that she was far more dangerous than I had originally thought. Her hands began to tear the material from her skin, shredding at it as if it was nothing, claws cutting through it like a sword through flesh "Don't be scared" she removed the necklace from her throat and dropped it into the snow once she stood naked before me and began walking away from me. The sound of bones snapping and flesh ripping reached my ears, a sound so sickening that it made my skin tingle with excitement. It wasn't long before she dropped to her knees in the snow, body wringing and mouth gaping as she cried out in pain and agony. I had to clench my teeth and bite my tongue to refrain from wanting to move closer to her. Her hands tore at her skin to reveal grey fur as her spine elongated into what would form a tail. She became a wolf, hands turning into paws, mouth becoming a muzzle, ears stretching to the top of her head. Once her cries and yelps died down, she stood and shook out her fur, a mess of grey, black and white that was thicker than that of a regular wolf and more beautiful in color. Her body began to turn, facing me, one paw being set before the other until she was stood directly in front of me. I barely moved, barely flinched at her appearance or height. She stood taller than I did, the bottom of her head beginning where mine ended. As I gazed up at her, that was when I realized that her eyes had turned black again like they had when we were in the throne room.