Maid and monster. Girl and wolf.
He was a man now, standing on the edge of the stone. His eyes were as yellow and intent as a wolf’s, and his gray wolfskin fell back from broad shoulders. His arms reached out to her, ready to embrace, ready to kill. “You have returned,” he said. “You know the truth, deep in your heart. You have known it since the night you dared spit in my eye. You are as vicious as you are beautiful! Not the demure, silent maiden, not you, Starflower. You were always meant to be mine.”
Her mouth was dry. Her body shook. Her mind screamed, Run! But if she did . . . if she ran that Path leading over the mountains and down into the water deeps of the river cavern . . . if she led her enemy through that dark way and emerged at last into the Midnight where his children waited . . .
Imraldera stared at the Beast, her fear overwhelming. All thought, all reason, all puzzling through the dangerous questions was reduced to silence.
“Come to me now, my pretty one.” The wolf in man’s form gnashed his teeth, and blood fell from his lips. “At last,” he whispered. “Let me take you and make you what I want.”
Suddenly Wolf Tongue screamed. A barrage of fur and teeth and claws had leapt into his face, snarling for all he was worth. The cat tore viciously at his eyes and ears, slipping through his furious fingers, scrambling around behind his shoulders to cling just out of reach. The Beast roared and became animal once more, lashing and writhing in his efforts to get the tiny monster off his back. In the midst of their ugly howls, Imraldera heard Eanrin shouting, “Run, fool girl!”
She came to her senses in a rush, gasping at the pain of it. Then she was running, fleeing up the mountain Path once again as the sun sank and night overcame the world. She knew who she was, she knew where she had been, and she knew what lay before her.
A shriek cut the darkness behind her. A death cry? Sickness tore at her heart. Had immortal Eanrin met his doom? But she could not think of that. She must run, and faster! Up the highest slopes of Bald Mountain, where the air should be so cold her blood would freeze, so thin her lungs would collapse.
The wolf was behind her. She felt the pound of his pursuing feet. Oh, cat! You should have left me by the River! You should have abandoned me to the Black Dogs and let me walk this Path alone!
She stumbled as she ran, cutting her hands upon sharp stones, and her feet bled just as they had the last time, leaving red footprints in her wake. The Path turned downward, and she slipped and skidded, nearly collapsing altogether. But the Hound was ahead and the wolf behind, and she could not stop, not yet.
“When you hold the name of a Faerie Lord, you hold power indeed.”
Fear! Was that his name? That spear of terror he plunged into the hearts of his worshippers? Amarok the Wolf. The Father of Fear.
See the truth, Starflower.
The song sang into her heart. She clutched it like a lifeline pulling her along when everything in her begged for release, for collapse, for an end. This Path was all she had to cling to now; no more reasoning and no more hope, just run, run, run!
See the truth and speak.
The river flowed ahead, cutting through the mountains and deep underground. Imraldera followed the Path, feeling as light and tossed about as an autumn leaf, prey to the whim of greater forces. But Fairbird must be safe. And if that meant death, so be it! Imraldera plunged once more into the darkness of the cavern, where she was blind and the roar of rushing water filled her ears. No gleam of gold to relieve her here. Nothing but darkness all around and the wolf just behind.
See and speak.
She was blind and she was mute. But she would not give in, not yet!
Her hand traced the cavern wall, and her feet sometimes nearly slipped as the river flowed past, ready to tug her under. The Path she walked was magic, however, and led her safely through those underground miles. She should have died down there the last time. By rights, she should die there now. But instead she saw the gleam of light far ahead. Sunlight! Night had come in the world above, come and gone, and daylight reigned once more. But where was the Midnight? Where were the Black Dogs?
“My love.”
The wolf’s voice, so near behind, was enough to shatter the spirit. She staggered and collapsed against the wall. He was close. His voice was a monster’s, but a man’s hand reached toward her in darkness.
“You fled me down this Path before,” he said, “and where did it lead you? Back to me, Starflower. Back to me, where you belong. Why fly from me again?” His voice was a snarl, but it pleaded with her. “My own, my love. You will only be brought back to me a second time. Such is your doom; you cannot escape it. I am your god, and I have decreed it so.”