“You spied on me!”
“Not spied. I was wandering through the forest, saw you and him go into the hut. Don’t worry, I didn’t press my face against the window to see how he slips between your legs.”
She tossed the little pouch back at him and stood up, incensed. “Leave. I need to close the shop.”
He gathered his things and placed the sack over his shoulder, holding it with both hands, while she angrily arranged the jars on a shelf.
Alice came down early, when Judith was still having her breakfast, her thoughts a tangled, dark mess as she sat at the table. Her sister smelled of an expensive almond cream, and she wore a pretty violet dress. Her thoughts must have also been dark, for she gave Judith an angry glare.
“Well, you’re home for once.”
“Where else would I be?” Judith asked.
“You’ve been lazy lately. Every time I turn around, you’re nowhere to be found in the house, and you don’t help around the shop either,” she said.
“I was helping this week,” Judith said.
“Perhaps, but you’re careless with food and supplies. You use too much soap for the washing. Nathaniel is having little luck fetching pelts this winter, which means we need to economize.”
They didn’t need to economize when Alice wanted new hair combs or a pair of shoes. “Nathaniel will get his great wolf pelt,” Judith said. “Don’t you worry.”
“What if he does? That’s not the point. You’re thoughtless, that’s what I’m saying. The shop boy says you broke several preserve jars.”
That was the lie she’d told. She couldn’t inform her sister that she’d given them to a vagrant whom she’d allowed into the shop.
“I’m sorry,” Judith muttered.
“Clumsy, as usual,” Alice said. “You let the milk boil over last night. Take care not to do it again.”
She spoke to her like a lady speaks to a lowly maid. But then they’d been estranged for a long time, long before Judith loved Nathaniel. Grandmother had taught Alice the place she must occupy in life, always two steps above Judith.
Alice berated her a little longer but eventually grew tired and left her alone. Soon, Judith rushed between the trees; the path that crossed the forest had been erased by winter, but she knew the way from habit. It was much too cold outside; her breath rose from her lips, and she tasted freedom when a flake touched her brow. Away, away she went, from the guesthouse, from Alice, the screaming children, the memory of Grandmother, who declared that Alice was by far the prettier child, fleeing them all. Into the arms of Nathaniel, who never chided her, who pressed kisses against her face.
“I hate it here,” she told him. “I hate my room and the house and the village. Why can’t spring come sooner? I wish for everything to be different and new. I wish to love you without deceit or secrets.”
“Wishing won’t make it so. Be patient, my love,” he said.
“I’m afraid.”
She was all emotion and eagerness. Reason had fled Judith’s mind. She’d forgotten the meaning of sin or virtue. She knew only the contours of her lover’s body. She wished only to please him.
Yet sometimes she worried that Alice knew all about them or that she would soon discover the truth, like the women who glimpse fortunes in the dregs of the tea they drink. Sometimes, like now, Judith also felt a terrible sorrow, and an inexplicable loneliness.
“Don’t be silly,” Nathaniel said.
His teeth bit along her lobe, drifted to her shoulder. Outside, a wolf howled. He raised his head. “It’s that damn beast. I’ve been trying to catch it for weeks now. A huge wolf, I tell you. The creature taunts me. I’ve set new traps—I’ll get him.”
“Are you going to chase after it?” she asked, looking at his rifle by the door.
Nathaniel seemed to consider it for a moment, but the sight of her flesh must have been more enticing than a wolf pelt, because he tugged at her laces instead.
Let the beast utter its lament, then, she thought.
The winter traced icicles upon the roofs of houses, turned the land into ivory, lashed the trees with its might. Then it grew silent.
The forest was so quiet the snow crackled under her feet, and when snow fell from a branch, it seemed to echo through the forest. Which was probably why she heard him humming before she reached the hut, long before he was in view, a black shape leaning by the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked. She had a basket in her hand and had tucked a book and a little food in there.
“Trying to see if you were alone so I might share your fire.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“You’re worried your lover will stop by and catch us together? I wouldn’t hurt him unless you asked me to.”
“He won’t be here today,” she said. “He’s busy at the shop.”
“Then you’ve escaped for your own pleasure.”
Yes, she had. Lately there was nothing but escape for her, from the confines of the guesthouse, and sometimes even from the desire that chained her to Nathaniel, for at times she wished to simply take his face between her hands and kiss him in the middle of town, for all the world to see.
She opened the door and walked in, looking over her shoulder at the man. He seemed even thinner than the last time, and his eyes were reddish, perhaps from standing around in the cold. His voice sounded ragged.
“Light the fire,” she said. She unwound her scarf from around her neck.
He busied himself with that task, and she placed her basket on the table, peeling off her coat, stomping the snow off her boots, and shaking her hair free. When the fire crackled, she turned to look at him. At once, Judith noticed the dirty bandage around his left hand.
“Whatever happened to you?”
“I was caught in a trap. I thought your lover would shoot me behind the ears, but I managed to escape.”
“You’re a liar,” she said as she unwound the bandage and looked at his hand. There was a gash, but it couldn’t have been made by Nathaniel’s steel traps. He would have lost his hand in one of those. No, probably he’d been injured when he broke into someone’s stable, cut himself with glass or even a nail. “I’ll clean it up.”
She collected snow and placed it in a pot, then hung the pot over the fire until it boiled. She had no proper bandages, but there were plenty of old linens that could be torn and used for this purpose. When she was done cleaning his hand, she wrapped the makeshift bandage neatly around his palm.
“Now I know for certain you’re no lycanthrope,” she said.
“What gave me away?”
“The only method to catch such monsters is to have a virgin ride atop a white horse through town. The horse will approach the dwelling of the creature, and it’ll be quartered and burnt. They don’t just fall into common traps. I also happen to know that a boy becomes a wolf after he drinks rainwater from a wolf’s pawprint on the night of the full moon. I read it in a book, much like the one you showed me. But you never said anything about rainwater.”
“How careless of me.”