Wicked Tales: Little Red's Wolf

Radulphus pulled on his shirt, wincing at the pain that washed over him, but he vowed to protect whatever human the wolfman was now after. He recalled the stories of his youth, ones told by Beatrix, the old woman he was chopping wood for. As he tracked the animal he couldn't believe her wild stories of men possessed by dogs were true. What other fairy tales had she told that were actual real life stories. He shuddered to think of all the horrors that existed in the woods. A shrill scream filled the night and Radulphus picked up his speed, doing his best to ignore the pain from his wounds. Fear flowed through him as he realized the scream had come from the direction of Beatrix's cottage.

Athelyna had just entered the clearing where her grandmother's cottage lay nestled in its center, when she felt a shiver of fear roll through her. She fought the urge to turn back and run home. Her grandmother's door was just a few yards away. She squared her shoulders as she stepped onto the stone path her grandfather had lay earlier in his marriage to her grandmother.

Beatrix prayed that her granddaughter would not come to her home. She could feel it in her bones that the young woman had lied to her and the demon was hunting tonight. The same sense of terror she had the night she gave birth overcame her and she paced back and forth and her lips moved in a silent plea.

A noise outside brought Beatrix out of her self-induced vigil. She hurried to the door of her cottage and swung it open, hoping with all her might that Athelyna was not there. Her hand flew to her throat as she stared past Athelyna and into a pair of eyes that seemingly glowed back at her. "Run child!" Beatrix shouted as she ran toward her granddaughter.

Athelyna felt the presence of another in the clearing and she turned to stare into the same eyes she'd seen looking back at her in adoration and desire. This time however those yellow-green orbs were clouded with a different kind of hunger, one Athelyna feared. She stepped back, colliding into her grandmother, sending both of them stumbling.

Wolfstan snarled. His lip curling away from his sharp teeth. His eyes darted from the frail woman to the other that seemed to be bathed in a scent he hungered for. He moved toward the small female with the crimson cloak. The need to feed from the scent that had teased his wolf-half for so long burned in his soul. He saw her fear, smelled it and it only fueled his own lust to devour the beating heart that forced her blood to flow through her veins.

Beatrix watched in horror as the creature stalked her granddaughter. He had dropped back down to four legs and moved stealthily around her, slowly advancing back and forth. Beatrix worked her tired muscles, forcing them to rise from her fallen position. She grabbed a rock, small compared to the beast that was closing in on her granddaughter, but she only wished to draw his attention so Athelyna could get away. Her eyes fell on the wound in his leg and she held the rock even tighter. She ran toward him, the rock's jagged edge pointing out.

The surprise jolt that flowed through Wolfstan caught him off guard. He rose to his full seven feet, throwing Beatrix off of him in the process. The rock protruded from the woodcutter's earlier blow and he howled as the jagged edge tore into his pulsing veins. Athelyna watched in horror as her grandmother crumbled in a heap. She screamed and ran toward the unconscious and crippled figure. "Grandmother!"

Wolfstan smelled the blood of Beatrix as if flowed freely from a gash at the back of her head. His tongue wrapped quickly over his nose. His eyes feasted on the old woman and the young girl. His clawed fingers curled into fists and when he reached the pile of flesh, that seemed destined to be his, he watched the blonde temptress turn to stare up at him. "Wolfe," she whispered, as tears fell from her watery blue eyes.

Wolfstan took a step back. His thickly lashed lids blinked in surprise as he studied the petite woman. Athelyna rose, sparing a quick glance to her grandmother. "Wolfe, it is me. Do not do this." Her face looked as pleadingly as her words sounded. She could sense the struggle in him as he stepped back, eying her cautiously as she began to stalk him.

A low rumble in his throat erupted as he breathed in the scent of another. His lips rose once more in a threatening snarl as he turned toward the man he'd been watching early. Radulphus stood poised and ready to strike as he took in the scene of the broken and seemingly dead woman and her granddaughter Athelyna. His finger opened and closed on the handle of his two axes. The larger one still held the copper blood that had spilled from the slice he'd delivered to Wolfstan's leg. The smaller axe was light and often used to chop off small branches from the larger logs. It hung loose in his grasp yet he knew his ability to fling the wicked blade and hit his mark.

Wolfstan struggled to control the rage that built him. He wanted to sink his teeth into the delicate skin of his mortal lover, yet deep down he felt an inner battle to keep her safe. He watched from one corner of his eye as she attempted to walk around him. His arm stretched out and he grabbed her, tucking her behind him with a deep growl, which was his command that she was to remain where he could protect her.

Radulphus stared in shock as the beast drew the girl behind him. He knew he had to time his attack just right so the girl, Beatrix and himself survived. There would not be another opportunity.

"Wolfe, please. . . please go home. Let me take you home." Wolfstan growled low, wanting her to remain silent "You told me to stay out of the woods at night . . . I know you won't hurt me. You love me. . .as I love you." Her hand reached out and she touched his arm, squeezing the thick muscle and letting her fingers slip into the soft fur.

Wolfstan looked down on her fingers, the contrasting colors bringing a sense of rightness that he'd never experienced before. He turned to her, his eyes holding her steady and knowing gaze. "Wolfe . . . Leave here wit. . ." Her words were stolen from her as she saw the glint of metal flying through the air. Wolfstan felt her change in demeanor and spun toward the woodcutter. The large axe fell into his chest and he staggered back, his head thrown back as a painful howl was ripped from his lungs.

Athelyna screamed as she pushed herself into Wolfstan's arms. She never saw the second, lighter blade soaring through the air, the target being the creature's exposed neck. Wolfstan's eyes flickered for a moment as he felt Athelyna's body stiffen. Her eyes grew wide and her hands gripped his arms. She felt the muscles under the flesh, the fur no longer a barrier that kept the man Wolfe from her. Wolfe wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as his change from Wolfstan finished and they both fell to the ground. He felt her blood flow from the wound on her back as well as his own seeping from the gaping hole in his chest.

"Athelyna." His voice laced with pain that was unbearable. He moved his fingers up to her face and pushed her golden locks out of the way, wanting nothing more than to see her blue eyes looking back at him.

Radulphus stared at the sight before him. The wolfman no longer existed. In his place lay another, a man just like any other. He hurried over to Beatrix and touched her cheek. He called her name, his eyes shifting from the couple and the pale features of the old woman. Beatrix stirred and Radulphus sighed in relief. He helped her into a sitting position, whispering for her to not move.

Beatrix looked around and saw her granddaughter in the arms of a man she did not recognize. She crawled forward and finally understood what had transpired. She stared at the bloody axe that protruded from Athelyna. A cry of alarm was stifled by her fist closing over her mouth. She heard the man whispering words of love to her granddaughter and she listened as her daughter repeated those same words of devotion. "Athelyna," she whispered, reaching out to stroke the blonde curls, just as the man beneath her did. Beatrix noticed the other weapon, this one buried deep into the man's chest. "The wolfman." Her words were muffled by a wailing howl that seared the night.

Beatrix felt a vise wrap around her chest as she felt the last beat of her grandchild's heart and the last pulsing breath of the wolfman's life flow into the ground that surrounded them. She buried her face in her hands as she wept over the lover's whose hearts and souls now belonged to a higher being; no longer did the night or day separate them.