A young woman, no more than ten and six, walked through the wood alone. She was not afraid. The woods were pleasant, warm and inviting. The trees were tall and narrow with smooth trunks and the bark that clothed them had the texture of parchment and was just as pale. Their leaves were a blend between green and grey and they shifted in a breath of wind, rustling gently. Wildflowers grew at the side of the path where she walked and she picked some as she went. She had been told that there were prettier flowers deeper the wood but she had somewhere to be and it would not do to make her Oma worry.

She wore her full length scarlet hood and cloak, a gift from her Oma. It had been painstakingly stitched around the edge with white thread in a cross pattern and there were ties so that she could secure it around her throat. It was an expensive, lavish gift and she had promised to only wear it on the most special of occasions. Surely a visit to her elderly Oma counted for that, especially now that Opa had passed away.

Happily she skipped along the path knowing that as she rounded the next corner, her Oma’s cottage would be in sight. And there it was, its stone structure nearly consumed by climbing roses and drenched in lovely warm sunlight through a break in the trees. There was a well nearby and a swing her Opa had made for her when she was little. She was too old for such things now, what with Fiete paying her the most pleasant of attentions. Perhaps he would ask her to marry him soon. The thought filled her with delight so that, as she approached the cottage, she didn’t notice the things that weren’t quite right.

The bucket from the well had been tipped over. There were grazes on the green grass. One of the window panels had been smashed and the window itself was wide open, the plain yellow curtain hanging limply despite the breeze.

The young woman approached the door and pushed it open.

“Oma! I am here!” The cottage was dark and she looked around the dimly lit room. “Oma? Has your lamp gone out again?”

In the dark she missed the scratches on the door frame and her booted feet kicked shards of glass. One stabbed her in the foot. She cried out and made it to a chair to pull the offending splinter out. She set her basket down, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

“Oma?” There was a large bed in the corner of the room. It was a heavy, high bed almost consumed by quilts. In the poor light she thought she could see a figure sitting up against the headboard. “It is Maja, your granddaughter. I have brought you some scones und jam und cream,” she moved closer and missed the shadowed that passed by the window, “are you not well Oma?” She came closer still. The figure wore her Oma’s bonnet and nightgown. Maja reached out to touch her hand. “Oma…”

The figure slumped forward, collapsing in a heap upon the bedclothes. Maja leapt backwards, her hands coming away sticky with blood. She spun around, a shriek escaping from her lips. As she went for the door it slammed in her face. Alone in a darkened room her heart hammered inside her.

And in the silence she heard footsteps circling the house.

No…not footsteps…these were not the steps of a person. They were the shuffling gait of an animal. One that snuffled at the corners of the house, whose growl was like a rumble of thunder in its throat and whose eyes were yellow and slanted as it looked in on her through the window.

And as a scream built up in her throat Maja saw the creature’s jaw open wide, dozens of sharp teeth protruding out and it lunged at her.

Ten years later…

Jé Kinah was tired of wheat fields. She had been walking through little else for three days. The long stalks shifted in the warm breeze, their dried tips rustling as they touched, whispering as they moved. The only things to break up the eternal yellow landscape were a few scarecrows and Jé Kinah’s head.

Surely she would reach a town soon. There could not be all this land to be farmed without a single village or town nearby.

Without the threat of people staring she had taken down her hood and walked with her pale blonde hair out and her pointed ears in full view. Though she had the features of an elf, if her hood was up, she looked like a young woman with a lovely, albeit pale, complexion. It was handy when she needed to blend in with humans if they could not be avoided. Elves were not well liked in the common lands and Jé Kinah did not want to suffer the wrath her kind engendered. If she could, she avoided villages and towns by going around them. But even elves had to eat and the last of her food supply had been consumed that morning.

So when she reached a crossroads she looked up at the sign with more interest than one would normally invoke. Three village names were painted in bright white and the distance away was clearly marked. Jé Kinah could reach one of them by mid afternoon. But she paused and studied the fourth sign that pointed away from the closest village. The name of the village had been scratched out and the distance was barely legible. Jé Kinah gathered that it was the closest out of all the destinations but from the way someone had even tried to set fire to the sign, the base of it blackened and charred, it was clearly not a favoured place to visit.

She turned to go in the opposite direction when she felt a tingling sensation down her spine, a sense of something unseen…something that didn’t want to be seen…something sinister…

She turned back and looked down the road that led towards the apparently banned village. Her ears tingled and she felt her heart quiver within her. Her hand immediately went to the vial on a leather cord that hung from her neck and her knuckles tightened around it. Almost without making a conscious decision she began walking down the road that took her to the village at the edge of a large wood.

The fields were just as yellow and plentiful as those she had previously passed through, perhaps even more so. There were luscious great oaks breaking up the landscape and a stream ran under the bridge she passed over which brought the village into sight. It was a sprawling mass of wooden buildings with a smattering of stone and heavily thatched roofs. To the naked, human eye, it seemed to be quite an idyllic location.

Yet Jé Kinah’s elvish senses caught sight of things that seemed to be amiss. The stream beneath the bridge didn’t make a sound and even though there was a warm breeze, the wheat did not shiver once. It stood still like an oil painting against an unnaturally blue sky. The scarecrows in the fields did nothing to scare the crows away. But instead of eating the produce, they perched on the arms of the straw stuffed guardians and glared at Jé Kinah with beady black eyes. There wasn’t a mark on the roads to indicate wagons or the footprints of farmers and the weeds had grown almost as high as the wheat they flanked. And despite the wealth of food in the fields, she could hear no one working. Not a single song or the sound of a scythe through the tall stalks though she knew it was harvest time.

But there was one sound. It was the sound of weeping. Jé Kinah followed it, going off the main road to slip easily, as an elf can do, through the still fronds of wheat without bending a single stalk. She moved cautiously, her senses screaming at her that something was terribly wrong, and finally emerged onto the village graveyard. It was placed on a slight incline that faced the village and was, as graveyards were prone to be, littered with wooden crosses.

A woman rocked and wept at the base of a cross, her words a mangle of sobbing and pleading. Her hair was escaping from the loose bun at the back of her head and hung around her face, tangled and grey. Her clothes were thick and woollen, a pinafore over a tunic and her feet were encased in wooden clogs. Despite being uncomfortable around humans Jé Kinah couldn’t ignore her heartbreaking sorrow. Propelled by compassion she went over to her and knelt by her side.

“I do not wish to intrude,” she said gently, “but are you in need of help?”

The woman continued to rock as though she hadn’t heard Jé Kinah and the she-elf was doubtful if further insistence on her part would be welcome. Perhaps the woman simply wanted to grieve and who was Jé Kinah to tell her not to give voice to the sorrow of her heart. Before the she-elf left the graveyard she noted that the cross the woman wept over was one of twelve crosses in a cluster, far too close for a body to be buried at the base of each.

She entered the village with the usual sense of trepidation. Elves were not fond of the dwellings of humans. They seemed to have a need to build bigger and better homes to hoard their belongings in. An elf’s possessions could more often than not be bundled up and carried on their back and Jé Kinah was no exception. Her satchel was custom made by herself from supple, well treated leather. Strapped to one side was her quiver filled with sleek arrows and should it be required, she could undo two buckles and carry it separately. Her bow was similarly attached to the other side of the satchel. Inside the bag she packed several blades of varying lengths and makes as well as a change of clothing.

What she wore was unremarkable and quite plain. Her dark leggings disappeared down her long legs into leather boots while her torso was clad in a lightweight tunic that was cinched at her small waist with a belt. Her vest had been too hot to wear in the sunshine but the moment the village had come into view she had put it on and flicked the hood up, knowing that a stranger is often regarded with caution but a strange elf is regarded with dislike and fear. It was odd, then, that she sensed no great interest in her being in their village at all.

After a brief wander she came across a woman with a stand of fruit. Jé Kinah eyed her produce and pointed out a collection of apples in a basket that were clearly the finest of them all.

“Nee...nee,” the seller shook her head, “dat is for de offering, ya? Perhaps these…?”

Jé Kinah blinked and nodded, paying for the apples of lesser quality. She tucked them into her satchel and walked on. There were more people about now but their mood was sombre and their eyes were downcast as they milled about. Next Jé Kinah found a baker and indicated she wanted to buy the toasted round loaf on the top of the stall.

“Nee, nee, nee. Dat is for de offering.”

Jé Kinah took three smaller, brown rolls and secured them with her apples. She walked on, slipping past the humans that slunk through the village like ghosts. Every stall she passed there was a basket or a special place for the best of what the seller had to offer. Yet no one was selling it. It was all for the ‘offering’.

Her interest peaked, Jé Kinah ventured deeper into the village until she reached the town square. The air had grown steadily and now Jé Kinah felt a distinct chill in her bones as she looked upon it. The square was built directly in front of the largest building of the village. Perhaps in the early days of the village, when it had not been much more than a settlement, it was a keep, maybe even a small castle. Since then it had been converted into the village church and while there were some religious icons on its impressive bulk, it could not shake the intimidating foundations from which it began. There were several steps to the double doors with a large emblem on the front that looked like some kind of animal whose jaw had been cast into a ferocious snarl.

But it was what had been built in front of the church building that made Jé Kinah’s senses tremble. It was a stage, two feet from the ground and around its base were flowers and long stalks and even daisy chains. On top of the stage was a wooden chair. It could even be called a throne and sitting on it was a girl. She could not have been older than ten and six, dressed in a cream tunic. Her face was as pale as a new dawn, her lips drawn and tight and her eyes were focused forwards, refusing to look down. And around her shoulders and over her fair hair was a full length, hooded blood red robe with white stitching.

Jé Kinah was arrested by the sight when a woman came towards the girl on the throne. She was holding out a basket of small baked cakes and called out to the girl,

“For de offering!”

The girl didn’t look down but when she spoke Jé Kinah heard a voice heavy with restrained emotion.

“For my moeder, to sustain her when I am gone.” The woman nodded and turned away, the cakes still in her basket.

Jé Kinah watched as several more villagers did exactly the same thing. The girl told all to give whatever they offered to her mother and those that offered their best then moved off down a side street. Suddenly a flurry of young women in dresses far too light for the chill in the air, streamed out of the church’s doors and danced through the square, waving red ribbons and scattering petals all around. Their eyes were too bright, their cheeks were too red and their smiles were plastered on their faces as though they were afraid to let them fall off. Their laughter grated on Jé Kinah’s nerves and she almost couldn’t bear to watch their façade of joy.

Jé Kinah waited until they had danced away from the front of the throne and stepped closer.

“Excuse me? Forgive a stranger for asking, but why are you here?” The girl’s face flinched but she held her gaze forward. “What is the offering?” Still she said nothing. “What is your name?”

“All hail und praise to this one who has been chosen to bring peace und prosperity to our village!” Boomed a loud voice and a big man stepped towards Jé Kinah. She hadn’t seen him before so she guessed he had come from the church. He was dressed in long robes like a priest, the red sash around his neck the same hue as the cloak the girl wore. He looked at Jé Kinah with a smile on his lips but coldness in his eyes. “You are a stranger to this village, ya?”

“I am.”

“Then you should know dat this girl is unable to speak unless it is to do with de offering. Unless you have something to give…”

Jé Kinah put her hand into her little money pouch and drew out several teardrop crystals. The man saw the gems and nodded, stepping back. Jé Kinah walked forwards and held them out to the girl.

“For the offering.” She said, willing with all her might for the girl to look at her.

“For my moeder, to sustain her...” the girl dropped her gaze for a split second and caught Jé Kinah’s eye, fear flashing across her pale features, “...when I am gone.”

Then her mask was back up and Jé Kinah stepped away. She could feel the big man’s piercing gaze upon her so she turned and followed where the other offering givers had gone. As she moved into a side street where the shadows began she saw a young man who was standing, staring at the girl on the throne. Jé Kinah made sure the big man had lost interest in her then nipped into the shadows next to the young man.

“What do I do with what I offered?” She asked quietly.

“Follow de beaten path to de house of de widow.” He said bitterly. He had dark hair, dark eyes and a shadow on his chin. Everything about him was rough and hard and his muscles flexed as his hands made fists by his sides.

Jé Kinah watched as the dancers paraded around again, their actions overseen by the big man who stood in the doorway to the church. “You are not a supporter of the offering?”

“Who could support such a thing?” The young man demanded. “At what price do we keep our village safe? Und Albrecht? He was just a cobbler ten years ago. Now look at him. He has de gall to organize feasts und parades und turns de whole thing into a damn farce! As if any of us are fooled.”

Jé Kinah looked at the girl who continued to stare forwards no matter what was offered to her. “What is her name?”

“According to tradition she no longer has a name.”

“Then what did you know her as?”

The young man turned his angry eyes onto Jé Kinah. “Her name was Ingrid. Und as to de rest of your questions, you’ll have de answers in due course. After all, you’re going to be here for a very long time.”

He turned his back on her, ending the interview so Jé Kinah went on her way. There were so many baskets and bottles and flowers laid at the front door that the house of the widow was inaccessible. Jé Kinah went around the house and found the back door unlatched. She slipped inside. It was a plain little dwelling with a table and several lopsided chairs around it taking up the most space. On the table were two steins, two plates, two forks and two knives. Against a wall was a bed with a quilt dumped carelessly on the mattress. And in the corner was an item that was completely out of place compared to its humble surroundings. It was a dressmaker’s dummy that had a dull sheen to it. In the full light of day Jé Kinah was fairly certain its silver plated surface would shine brilliantly.

She looked around again. “Why would they have such a valuable piece in their home?” She wondered aloud.

“What are you doing in here?” Jé Kinah spun around to see the woman who had been weeping in the graveyard standing in the doorway. She had scraped her hair back into its bun and straightened her clothing, but no amount of effort could erase the sorrow on her face.

Jé Kinah faltered. “I have…brought my offering.” She held out the gems. The woman took them and dropped them on the table without a care.

“Now leave my home.”

She slumped into her chair and put her head in her hands. Jé Kinah looked down on her, knowing she had been told to leave yet unable to move. She watched the woman’s shoulders shudder with intense emotion before she sniffed and looked up.

“You still here?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Jé Kinah sat down. “Why is a very good question. Why is your daughter sitting on a throne dressed in blood? Why are people giving their best to you and yet you act as though it is filth? Why, when I look into your daughter’s eyes, do I see a human sacrifice?”

The woman’s eyes were puffy and red and she pressed her hand against her mouth. Moved by her sorrow Jé Kinah reached out and took her other hand. “Because she drew de short straw,” she wept, “dat is all my little Ingrid did. She drew de short straw.”

“It all began ten years ago,” Gertrude, the mother of Ingrid, explained when she had calmed herself and Jé Kinah had made her a hot drink, “when de land was green und fresh und innocent. De daughter of a family, who is no longer with us, went missing when she went to visit her Oma who lived in de wood. She was a healer, you see, de Oma und she liked to live close to de plants und living things,” she breathed out, “when Maja didn’t return her parents went looking for her und found de Oma dead in her bed, torn to pieces und several days gone at least. From tracks und de claw marks, they knew it had to be a wolf.”

“Her name was Maja?” Jé Kinah asked quietly.

“Ya...” Gertrude was paused in her tale by the mournful tone of Jé Kinah’s voice.

Jé Kinah knew she wasn’t hiding her emotions like she should and swallowed, clearing her throat from the lump that was there. “What happened to…her?”

“Her basket of food for her Oma was there but Maja had completely disappeared. Because de wolf was obviously strong und now had a taste for human flesh, a hunting party was organized. Thirteen of de strongest, ablest of men were sent into de wood to track it down und kill it,” Gertrude’s face winced, “including Maja’s admirer Fiete…und my darling husband.”

Jé Kinah allowed a moment of silent to fall in respect. In her mind’s eye she could see the cluster of twelve crosses in the graveyard.

“Only one made it out.” She guessed.

“Hartwig. He was found utterly senseless, naked und deeply scratched at de edge of de wood with Maja’s red riding hood clutched in his hands. He kept saying over und over, de wolf, de wolf…” Gertrude sipped her hot drink. “It took days for us to get him to talk to us. He said de others had all been killed und dat de wolf had left him alive to deliver us a message.”

Jé Kinah sat up. “The wolf spoke?”

“He said dat if we wanted to live under de prosperity of de wolf we had to, on de full moon anniversary of Maja’s disappearance, send a ten und six maid into de woods wearing de red robe. If we did not, there would be no end to our suffering.”

“A full moon,” Jé Kinah murmured, “a werewolf?”

“Almost everyone scoffed de notion of a werewolf. They are things from children’s stories und nightmares, not real…at least…dat’s what de most sensible of us thought.”

Jé Kinah and Gertrude looked up as the door opened and Ingrid, in her red robe, appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened when they saw and she shut the door firmly behind her.

“You came?” She gasped quietly.

“You asked me to look after your mother.” Jé Kinah said simply.

Ingrid swallowed and took off her robe, reverently placing it on the silver plated dressmaker’s doll. She then shut the windows tight. “If Albrecht sees you,” she turned, “perhaps it would be best if you left. I do not want my moeder to suffer.”

“Your mother is already suffering. Your whole village is suffering,” Jé Kinah pointed out, “and I am not afraid of Albrecht.”

“You should be,” Ingrid sat down, “und I should not be talking to you.” She took her mother’s hands. “This time is for me to spend with my moeder.”

“Before she sends you out as a sacrifice.” Jé Kinah could not hide the contempt in her voice and it was clear her words had done damage. Gertrude flinched and cast her eyes down in shame while Ingrid flared up.

“Und what would you have us do?”

“Anything that does not involve sending children out to be torn to pieces by this wolf!”

“I am not sent! I go so dat my village will know peace und prosperity.” Ingrid retorted and while Jé Kinah did not doubt her resolve, she knew that just below the surface, Ingrid was terrified.

“And you let her,” Jé Kinah demanded of the mother, “you just blindly follow the orders of someone or something that seeks to terrify you?”

“You accuse us but we had no choice in de matter.”

“That excuse has been used to justify some of the most heinous crimes upon this earth as if it can somehow remove the person from the responsibility of their actions,” Jé Kinah looked at both of them, “unless you are simply too cowardly to fight for your family?” She blocked Ingrid’s incensed blow while her mother stood up, shame gone, fear in its place.

“You think we do this willingly? Dat we didn’t question, didn’t fight what we had been told to do because of what might happen? You think us dat callous und cowardly?” She slumped into her chair, her strength gone. “Everyone thought Hartwig was mad und very few took his words seriously. But there were those of us who dreaded de annual moon dat had been designated. Und there were those who held de red robe high as a symbol und warned us dat we were asking for death.”

Jé Kinah sat down, Ingrid having stepped back and lowered her fists. “What happened?”

“De morning after de moon we found de wheat fields burnt to de ground.”

“There was a fire?”

“No one saw de flames und there was no smoke. In de morning everything was charred und gone. Albrecht de cobbler, stood on de steps of de church und preached from morning until night dat there was worse yet to come. We did nothing but dat night everyone locked und barred their doors,” Gertrude shuddered, “und in de morning de inside of de church was burnt out. De pews, de tapestries, everything was ash und de walls were black. Und hanging from a twisted piece of iron was de red robe.”

“Surely that could not have been all it took?” Jé Kinah probed.

“Nee…und it was not de worst…” Her lips trembled and her eyes reddened. “Maja’s parents…though de door was locked und de windows were barred…”

Ingrid drew her mother’s head to her shoulder and stroked her hair. She glared at Jé Kinah “What good can come of reliving these memories?”

“I need to understand so I can help in some way.”

“What can you possibly do against such power?” Ingrid demanded. “Even though I was only five years old I remember when they drew lots for de girl to go into de wood. De girl who drew de short straw was Amalia. Her parents begged und pleaded while half de villagers, mad with fear, held them back. Albrecht tied de robe around her as tight as a noose und pushed her into de wood…und she never came out. Before a week was out de fields began to sprout new shoots…und de red robe hung from de church doors.”

Horror crept over Jé Kinah and her hand went to the vial around her neck. Whatever lived in the wood was powerful indeed. Or at least, the fear it had engendered had made it powerful.

“Albrecht preached dat we need only give one a year to live in prosperity,” Gertrude wept, “but de food turns to ash in our bellies und de water is like broken glass. What has our fear gotten us?”

Jé Kinah looked at the dress maker’s doll and the red robe that hung from it. “Why not simply leave the village?”

“We tried.” Gertrude whispered. “We cannot leave.”

“Why not?” But Gertrude was in not state to answer any more questions and Ingrid held her mother protectively.

“I thought you could help us, help my mother at least. But you have only stirred up de past. Please just go.”

Jé Kinah stood and took her satchel up. She looked outside at the afternoon light. She remembered the young man’s words who stood, staring at Ingrid. She would never leave this village. Jé Kinah wondered just how true those words were.

“I will return.” She vowed.

Gertrude shivered and whispered. “I know you will. You’ll have no choice.”

Jé Kinah set out on the path she had taken into the village. She walked steadily, wondering just how the villagers had gotten it into their heads that they couldn’t leave. Then her head started to swim and she felt a little sick to her stomach as it seemed as though the earth was spinning out from under her feet. She kept on the path, stopping only when she saw the village looming directly in front of her.

“That is impossible,” she whispered, “how…”

She took a different path this time and sprinted as though an army was chasing her down. But all that changed was the length of time to find herself at the border of the village once more. Jé Kinah already knew it was hopeless but her mind told her that it had to be possible to leave somehow. So for the next two hours she left the village five more times on different routes and at differing speeds only to end up walking back into the village.

It was quiet now. The morbid celebrations had ceased and all the windows and doors were shut. Outside Gertrude’s house the flowers had already begun to wilt. Jé Kinah went in via the back entrance and sat down. Gertrude had been brushing her daughter’s hair to a fine silken sheen and was unsurprised at her return.

“You could not leave, ya?” Gertrude asked, having regained some composure.

Jé Kinah shook her head. “I need to speak with the huntsman who gave you the wolf’s instructions.”

“You will find dat difficult to do.” Gertrude stroked her daughter’s hair. “After Amalia went into de wood, he hung himself. He believed without a doubt of what would pass…but it did not mean he believed it was right.”

Jé Kinah wished she had the wisdom of her kind to draw upon. She had instincts which were inherited but they were hardly the complete knowledge of the elder. At best all she had was an intuitive wisdom, the ability to see and sense things humans couldn’t. Her most extensive knowledge came from her own experiences, the danger of making a covenant with something that was only after its own interests...the desperation of the person agreeing to such a torment…

“…and nothing can kill you, is that right? Not going to tell me? Well that’s fair enough. And you have nothing to fear from me witch. I’m not clever enough to figure it out.”

“What could kill,” she looked up, “you said there were those who believed the wolf to be a werewolf?” Gertrude nodded. “Was any attempt made to kill it in a manner that would kill a werewolf?”

“You mean a silver blade?” Gertrude shook her head. “They did but they were not able to find de creature to kill it. After a while Albrecht said dat de silver could be put to better use honouring de wolf,” she pointed to the dress maker’s doll, “so he made dat. De red riding hood rests on it all year round at de front of de church until lots are drawn und then it is moved to de girl’s home.”

“Only silver would work,” Jé Kinah felt the need to swear, “and it is too late to be melting that down and making a blade from it.”

“There is one dagger still in de church.” Ingrid said unexpectedly. “Albrecht brings it out to remind us how foolish we were, saying it is impossible to kill a god with a manmade weapon.”

“What he worships will one day be his doom.” Jé Kinah remarked darkly then looked up. “Now Ingrid, I need you to tell me everything about what is going to happen tonight. Do not leave a single detail out.”

An hour later an early dusk had begun to fall. A crowd of wolf worshippers had gathered outside Gertrude’s house so Jé Kinah slipped out the back door and vanished into the shadows. A moment later she was looking out at the church. There were lanterns lit and though they made it more difficult to stay unseen, they did make the shadows even blacker than before. Jé Kinah dashed to the stairs and looked up at the emblem on the doors. It was the head of a wolf in a ferocious snarl. She shook her head, pried open the door and slid inside.

Elf eyes are accustomed to seeing in the dark so she sprinted past the pews of the empty, dim church to the altar at the front. The blade wasn’t there. She looked around and spied a door at the back of the church. Inside she found a small study, also devoid of life. But there was a desk. And on the desk was a locked chest. Jé Kinah held the base of the chest in one hand, gripped the top and ripped it from its hinges. The dagger lay inside on a bed of velvet. As she picked it up she tested the edge to see if it needed to be sharpened.

Like someone had used an axe to strike stone, a piercing shriek jarred right through her and she dropped the dagger. Though the wound was tiny it hurt like nothing she had experienced before. It set her teeth on edge and her hands curled into fists as she stepped away from the simple weapon. It took far too long for her to regain her composure. Night was falling. She hadn’t much time. Jé Kinah forced her eyes to focus and ripped the velvet lining out of the chest and carefully wrapped the blade.

“At least now I know that this will work.” She whispered and hurried out of the church.

Gertrude and Ingrid jumped at Jé Kinah’s entrance through the back door.

“We thought you had abandoned us.” Ingrid gasped. “De hour draws near.”

Jé Kinah could tell. The wolf worshippers were chanting outside the house and they were increasing in number.

“Quickly now. We must exchange clothes.” Ingrid’s tunic was scratchy and Jé Kinah struggled to pull the woollen tights on. She used her own belt to wrap around her waist and, keeping the blade away from herself, slid the dagger firmly into the sheath. She then twisted it so that the dagger was at her back.

Someone banged on the door. “Open de door. De time for de offering has come!”

“It is Albrecht!” Ingrid’s face paled to a shade warmer than death.

“He cannot get in. I have barred de door.” There was a small smile on Gertrude’s face. Now that she had hope, her fire had returned. “De halsketting.”

“The what?”

“De necklace, de thing…” Gertrude pointed at Jé Kinah’s throat and the vial that lay on her pale skin. Jé Kinah grasped the vial, a drop of doubt in her heart. “If Albrecht should see it...”

Jé Kinah turned away and, with shaking fingers, untied the knot and let the vial slip into her hands. She looked down at it and swallowed.

“Open the door!”

Jé Kinah turned back to Gertrude who held out her hand. The mother saw the look in her eyes and frowned. “This,” Jé Kinah could feel the emotion in her voice threatening to undo her control, “means more to me than anything else in this world. Please…”

“Just as you look after my daughter,” Gertrude grasped her hand, “so I will look after this.”

Reassured but still having to force her body to do so, Jé Kinah put the vial and leather tie into Gertrude’s hand. Ingrid swung the cloak around Jé Kinah’s shoulders and tied it tight so the hood was drawn around her face.

“Get under the bed and at the risk of your life, do not come out.” Jé Kinah warned her. Ingrid did so as the banging on the door became fearsome.

“Are you ready?” Gertrude asked.

Jé Kinah nodded and breathed out, turning her body away from the light. Gertrude unlatched the door. Albrecht’s large form filled the doorframe. “Could you not wait five minutes?”

“You are late und it is time!”

“De wolf said during de full moon.” Gertrude looked up at the sky. “It is full all night long. Allow me de chance to say goodbye to my daughter.”

Albrecht huffed and stepped back. Jé Kinah stepped forward and Gertrude took her hands.

“My engel,” she looked deep into the shaded eyes of Jé Kinah, “I will never forget you.”

Jé Kinah nodded, not trusting her voice to carry off the heavy accent and turned to go out the door. Gertrude went to the door way as Jé Kinah followed the path of petals the dancers had laid out for Ingrid. She could hear Gertrude weeping in the doorway.

Was she weeping because she was relieved her daughter was safe?

Or was she weeping because she had sent Jé Kinah very possibly to her death?

Albrecht walked along side her.

“I know you have had your doubts. We all have,” Jé Kinah doubted that Albrecht had any doubts whatsoever, “but what you do, your sacrifice und your willingness brings dignity, honour, peace und prosperity to our village und earns you an eternal place in heaven.”

Jé Kinah wanted to demand how he could possibly know that but she had to keep quiet. The path was easy enough to follow even if Ingrid hadn’t explained the ritual in detail. She walked on the petals barefoot, her hood up and close around her face and the cloak covering her form all the way to her ankles. She and Ingrid were not dissimilar in height and build but Jé Kinah knew that should anyone see her face or if she were to speak, she would be exposed.

“Your mother will be blessed by de village in recognition for your sacrifice. She will not hunger or want for anything.”

“Except her daughter.” Jé Kinah couldn’t help but whisper. Thankfully Albrecht was still preaching as they walked along and heard nothing but the sound of his own voice.

They walked out into the town square and a figure in the shadows suddenly leapt out, grabbing Jé Kinah’s arm and thrusting her behind him while swiping a chipped blade at Albrecht.

“Run Ingrid!” He yelled.

“Corbin, what are you doing?” Albrecht cried.

“I am keeping you from murdering another innocent.” It was the young man who had stood in the shadows and told Jé Kinah Ingrid’s name. His eyes were wild and he was shaking.

“I have never raised my arm to hurt a soul. I am a man of peace.” Albrecht spread his arms out as if he would embrace Corbin but the young man wildly slashed at the former cobbler and he stepped back.

“You are a man of blood! Und I will not let you send Ingrid to her death!”

“You are guilty of blasphemy! You would bring death on us all!”

Jé Kinah didn’t want to get any closer to Corbin’s weapon and his obvious inability to wield it properly but she certainly didn’t want to be exposed so she moved to stand between Albrecht, facing Corbin.

“Ingrid, why do you not run?” He demanded, his dagger still held out towards her.

Jé Kinah couldn’t trust her voice so she prayed Corbin wouldn’t strike out at Ingrid and reached forward and gripped his wrist. Corbin made to pull away but she used a pressure point to force him to his knees and stepped close, her face suddenly pulled into focus despite the shadow of the red robe.

“I go willingly.” She spoke softly, hoping her lack of accent wouldn’t be heard. Corbin’s eyes were wide upon her face and he went to blurt something out so Jé Kinah pressed her other hand against his unshaven cheek, stopping him from speaking. “Fear not Corbin. Let me go in peace.”

A glimmer of comprehension could be seen in his eyes and she prayed it was enough to keep his mouth shut as she pulled away and continued on her path towards the wood.

She heard Albrecht snap, “We will talk about this tomorrow.” But Corbin said nothing in reply and Jé Kinah breathed a sigh of relief. Albrecht caught her up. “Despite de obvious divine nature of de wolf, there are still some who do not believe.”

Jé Kinah closed her eyes and hoped Corbin would lay low for the next few days.

At the edge of the wood the petals stopped abruptly. Jé Kinah paused at the edge and waited.

“We show our praise und thanks to de wolf for his kind mercy und provision. We send this young woman into de forest as a sign of our eternal devotion.”

The path disappeared into the wood barely a stone’s throw beyond where she stood. Jé Kinah swallowed, held her head high and walked forward. Though she was swallowed up by the gloom almost immediately, Albrecht didn’t move away from the entrance to the forest for a very long time, the self imposed guardian and enforcer of the wolf’s domain.

The wood was dark and made no attempt to hide its affiliation with evil. The trees were black and twisted and the leaves that grew sparsely were dull grey. Spider webs hung from every branch and Jé Kinah lost count of the amount of times she walked through one as she ventured further in. Despite it being the warm harvest season, the air was cold and her breath was like fog. The ground was hard and at times she felt the bite of ice on her bare toes. The riding hood and cloak were of excellent quality and provided some protection against the physical cold…but it did nothing to alleviate the insidious chill that seeped into her body and penetrated her bones.

The full moon was high in the sky, casting grotesque shadows all around her and deep in the wood she could hear the sound of things moving, things that were stalking her. More than once she reached for the vial that was no longer around her neck and a stab of grief would pierce her heart.

Just when she felt she could bear the cold no longer, Jé Kinah broke through a thick layer of web to come across the grandmother’s cottage. As though it was permanently drenched in winter, spider webs dotted with dew covered it in shinning silver banners and there was a layer of frost on the ground. Jé Kinah felt a shiver ripple through her as she entered the glen. The shiver somehow touched the webs as though sensing her presence and she wondered if she had made her presence known.

She did not have to wait long to find out.

“You are far from home, little red riding hood.” The voice was blood and flesh, yellow and hot. It came from behind but when she turned there was nothing in sight. “Where are you going at such a late hour?”

Jé Kinah didn’t like to admit fear. Elves were not victims of their emotions like humans were. They had control and order to what they felt and how deep it ran. But even she couldn’t repress the bite of fear on her will power that kept her standing still.

“Why play these games?” She asked to whatever it was that listened. “You know why I have come.”

“Your voice is not thick and your words are foreign.” The voice slunk around her. “Did you enter into the village by accident and have been served up instead of one of their own?”

“Would I be the first?” Jé Kinah didn’t like this game. She itched to grab the dagger but didn’t want to give its position away until she laid eyes on the wolf. “Why do you hide? Are you afraid?”

A snort from the tangle of bracken directly in front arrested her attention. The twigs creaked and groaned as a wolf of immense proportions pushed its way through them. Its thick fur was dark grey with a little silver. Its claws were long and its withers trembled with barely contained energy. As its red rimmed yellow eyes bored their way into her soul, a snarl exposed top, long, pointed teeth over the bottom ones.

Every step it made seemed to reverberate through the ground, causing Jé Kinah to shudder as it approached.

“Are you?” It asked, the words unnatural as it ground them out between its fangs.

“Yes.” Jé Kinah said simply, unable to lie as she felt the presence of a malevolent evil. She hadn’t felt its equal since she lost all that she cared for in the world.

The wolf gave a smile that was not at all pleasant. “Don’t be.” It said and walked steadily towards her. And as it did…it changed.

Bones cracked and reformed and much of the matted hair withered away to reveal skin. Its nose and long jaw caved inwards so that its features became more like a man’s although it retained the hint of a snout. As its front legs changed it thrust itself up onto its hind legs, standing almost seven feet tall. Its knees were still bent back the wrong way for a human but its body was balanced by its large wolf paws and its tail. Its ears had sunk on its head but were still pointed and furry and its eyes were as yellow as they had ever been. A line of dark grey shaggy hair ran from its head down the spine of its back and thick hair formed sideburns down the sides of its face and chin. It wore nothing except the fur that grew heavily around its loins and its bare chest was broad and muscular and his arms were strong.

Where there had been a wolf the size of a bear, there was now a man. A tall, brawny, strong man with a wolf’s lustful hunger in his eyes. His movements towards her were confident, even sensual and Jé Kinah couldn’t look away. She was riveted to the spot, her eyes locked onto him, her mouth dry, her cheeks hot and her hands clammy. Three feet from her he stopped, enjoying her attention.

“You can always tell a virgin,” he chuckled, his voice touching her soul, “so easy to blush.”

He was still too far away for a good lunge with the blade. She had to drive it deep into its heart for it to be wholly effective. And Jé Kinah was experiencing an embarrassing stupor, one which she thought age would not have allowed her to suffer. She could feel his yellow eyes grazing her body and pulled the cloak closer around herself as if it were any protection against it.

The wolf reached out and touched the red of her robe. “My red riding hood. My gift. My sacrifice.” He nuzzled in her neck and breathed her in. “You don’t smell like the others. You smell of the earth, of wind and rain…and ash,” he circled around behind her, “but in the end they all smell the same.” Jé Kinah’s fingers danced on the hilt of her dagger when he said, “would you like to meet your sisters?”

“In death?”

His throaty chuckle was not what she was expecting and he moved to face her. “Come. I will take you to them.” Then he stepped back and offered his hand. Jé Kinah hesitated then drew her empty hand out of her robe and placed it in his. His hand wrapped firmly around hers and he drew her into the wood, far from the beaten path.

They spoke not a word for over an hour, the light of the moon even brighter than before. The wolf didn’t look back once as he led her deeper and deeper into his domain. And then there were no trees. A rocky clearing opened up before them with a low cave at the top of a staggered decline. And in the clearing there was life. Three children between the ages of three and eight and dressed in the barest of essentials wrestled each other under the watchful eye of a curvy brunette. And at the mouth of the cave were two mothers, one nursing her baby and the other encouraging her little one to walk.

They all looked up as the wolf entered the clearing and immediately, even the littlest of children got to their knees and bowed. Jé Kinah looked around, aghast.

“You did not kill them?”

“Your village would paint me as a monster,” the wolf gestured to his harem, “but I am the protector, the head…the father.” He drew her into the clearing and gestured to the mothers in the cave with his dirty fingernails. “Ebba and Lena and my young,” the women kept their eyes downcast, “and this is Liesel. She was my newest gift.” The curvy brunette shivered as his hand brushed her dark curls, her belly swollen with child. He turned and looked at Jé Kinah. “Until you…of course. What is your name?”

Jé Kinah swallowed. She hadn’t anticipated needing a back story. She was going to kill the wolf if it was possible to do so and free the village from his torment. What was she to do with all this?

“Ingrid.” She whispered.

“I have not had an Ingrid before,” the wolf moved closer, pressing himself against her, his claws stroking her hood, about to draw it back from her face, “but I will have had Ingrid by tomorrow…”

Jé Kinah had just enough time to shudder at his breath when a crowd of women emerged from the tree line. These women were lean, taut, dressed in animal skin and whatever hadn’t fallen into disrepair and ruin after years in the woods. The woman at the front was unmistakably a warrior. She was muscular and confident, her hair scraped back from her once oval, baby face. It was contoured with lines of hardship and determination and her brown eyes glared at Jé Kinah with a glimmer of jealousy.

“Maja, come meet the latest sacrifice,” the wolf drew Jé Kinah forward, “Ingrid.”

Maja looked Jé Kinah over with a very critical eye. “She reeks of them und she is soft und weak.”

“So were you once.”

“Give her to me und I will make or break her.” Jé Kinah had no doubt that Maja intended to do exactly as she said. She searched her face for the softness she would have had as a child but even to her elvish eyes, there was none.

“Is that any way to treat the newest addition to our family?”

“We will see if she is worthy to be part of de family.”

“You will have to excuse Maja,” the wolf eyed his eldest prize with a glittering gaze, “she is protective of me.”

Maja didn’t seem to appreciate being patronized and turned her annoyance onto Jé Kinah. “I do not know your face from de village Ingrid and your voice is strange.”

“I wandered into the village by accident and could not leave.” Jé Kinah blended the lie with the truth. “I was chosen because everyone thought the wolf…”

“I was not killed. Nor was any of de others sent here to die,” Maja sneered at her, “sent by those who claimed to have loved us. Lambs to de slaughter. Well, we are lambs no longer.”

“And just look at what my beloved have brought.” The wolf slunk over, finally releasing Jé Kinah’s body from his pressing hold. While he inspected their goods Jé Kinah’s eyes whipped over the women, doing a quick body count. There were nine women from the village and eleven children ranging in age from the babes to the oldest who stood behind their mother, Maja.

“What is this?” The wolf pulled out a box and his claws scraped against it.

“I took it from de house of de healer in de village we raided,” one girl with black hair and narrow eyes explained, “I thought it could be used to help Mikael.”

The wolf tossed it aside and the delicate vials and packets tipped over the ground near Jé Kinah. She knelt and picked them up. “Is Mikael ill?”

“It is none of your concern.” Maja responded.

“I have a healer’s skill. Let me help.”

“We do not need your help.”

“But Mikael’s fever…” The girl who spoke received a slap from Maja and cowered back from her. Jé Kinah was hard pressed not to leap to the girl’s defence. She noted that the wolf, who stood to one side, was watching them with a pleased gleam in his yellow eyes. He was enjoying this.

“If Mikael is not strong enough to survive then he is not worthy to be in this pack.”

The dark haired woman was not about to let go despite her obvious fear of Maja. This sort of courage could only come from a desperate mother.

“You are just jealous because you could not give de wolf a son, only daughters!” Maja snarled and leapt onto the mother who fought back with teeth and sharpened nails. Jé Kinah turned to the wolf.

“Stop this!”

“Why should I?”

“They will kill each other!”

“Doubtful.” But the wolf seemed to have grown bored by the display and grabbed both women by their tangled hair and dragged them back with inhuman strength. “Amalia. Maja. Enough!”

Amalia did as she was told but Jé Kinah could see that Maja was barely restrained. Her eyes were like daggers and she shook with anger.

“Let Ingrid try.”

“Because he is your son?” Maja spat.

“Because if she fails I will not be so pleased with her or Amalia.”

Amalia didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed Jé Kinah’s arm and dragged her towards the cave. “He is in here.”

On a bed of moss and animal skins lay a four year old boy. He was pale and trembling, his eyes shut tight but tinged with red. The cave roof was low so Jé Kinah knelt and felt his temperature.

“He is fighting off an infection.”

“Mikael liked to wander away from de den. De woods are filled with poisonous plants und animals,” Amalia turned his wrist over, “there was a deep scratch here.”

“How long ago?”

“Four days.”

“I need fresh water.”

Amalia barked the order to another girl who was nearby. It seemed their attempts to heal Mikael had drawn a crowd. Jé Kinah worked quickly, using her rather overstated healing skills to grind several herbs into powder. She prayed it would be enough for he was very weak.

“You are a brave woman.” Jé Kinah remarked, stroking the little boy’s forehead.

“Desperate. Is dat de same thing?” Amalia came closer still and nuzzled her son’s neck. “I made a deal with you because death is de only other choice.”

“You made a deal with me?”

Amalia nodded. “There is strength in numbers.”

Jé Kinah noted a large purple bruise on Amalia’s wrist and there were scratches on her body that weren’t from the fight with Maja. “Who gave you those? Maja,” it was hard even to say the name, “or the wolf?”

Amalia tugged at her thin tunic that was insufficient to cover her wounds. “I am too outspoken. I should have learnt by now to keep my mouth shut.”

The fresh water arrived. Jé Kinah mixed it with the herbs and with Amalia’s help poured it down Mikael’s throat. He coughed and spluttered but swallowed enough. He squirmed as she scrubbed the scratch on his wrist then settled once it was bound firmly.

“Is it done? De wolf grows impatient.”

Jé Kinah’s hackles went up at Maja’s arrogant demand. “It is done when I say it is.”

She heard Maja huff. “You are young und foolish. You know nothing.”

“I know he took you from your family, from your home. I know he has kept you prisoner here, bound by some unseen line that you dare not cross.”

“What do you know of de wolf?”

Jé Kinah faced her. “I know you are terrified of him.”

Maja’s eyes did not falter once. “Terrified? What do you know of it? Of any of it? Yes, de wolf took me from my Oma’s cottage. He brought me here und bathed my wounds from de glass I had stepped on. He said he knew de fickle nature of man und dat those in de village would happily send out others like me, to die.”

“And on his word alone you gave yourself to him?”

“He did not touch me,” Maja retorted, “not for one whole year. I lived by his hand, by de berries he brought und de animals he killed. He watched over me with tenderness. Und a year later, Amalia arrived, terrified, screaming dat de villagers had cast her into de wood. I knew then dat every word de wolf uttered was absolutely true.” Maja glared down at Amalia. “Others have taken longer to understand his benevolent nature.”

“His benevolent nature? Beating you if should you disagree and by letting his son die?” Jé Kinah stood up, back bent so that she didn’t bang her head on the cave ceiling.

“We are sifted by life und those who are weak are culled from de pack.”

Jé Kinah looked down at the shivering boy. “If you injure your foot, do you cut it off because it was not strong enough to walk over glass?”

Maja’s mouth gave a hint of a smirk and Jé Kinah knew she had not reached the hardened woman. “Get out!” Everyone dashed from the cave, Amalia scooping up Mikael in her arms. Maja stepped in front of Jé Kinah when she tried to follow. “Not you. You are his pleasure while de moon is full.”

Jé Kinah shuddered as Maja bowed out of the cave and the wolf’s form filled its mouth. He was bristling, powerful and in the dark his eyes blazed with an internal fire.

“Do not fear me,” he said, his voice guttural and low, “I will show you wonders and truth.”

“Your truth.” Jé Kinah back against the wall as her hand reached for the silver dagger. It was cool and reassuring to the touch.

“I will not hurt you,” the wolf slid closer to her, closing the gap with finality, “I will make you whole.” His clawed hand stroked down her arm that was tucked behind her back. Jé Kinah the dagger out as fast as she could but her reflexes, though fast compared to a human, was nothing compared to the wolf. He gripped her wrist tightly.

“What have we here?” He grinned, not in the least bit frightened. “Ingrid has teeth.”

Jé Kinah brought her knee up hard. The wolf was, or once was, human after all. He doubled over, groaning and let go. She got herself out of the tight space and into the clearing under the light of the waning moon. She stumbled, rolled and got up to see the wolf emerge, his body bristling. The women backed away from their position, watching the battle.

“You think you are the first to come armed?” The wolf demanded darkly. “Was it not Berta that tried to kill me with her father’s razor?” He looked over at a thin, emaciated girl with matted hair hanging over her face. “We learnt our lesson, didn’t we Berta?”

She nodded furiously and the wolf turned back to Jé Kinah who gently swayed from side to side, the dagger in her hand, the cloak billowing out around her and her eyes fixed on him.

“Is that how you protect and love your women,” she demanded, “by beating them into submission?” The wolf’s mouth curled in a sneer. “You do not have to stay here!” Jé Kinah cried, projecting her voice to the women. “He cannot keep you here. Once he is dead, you will be free.”

“I cannot die. I will live forever,” he came closer as though daring her to lunge at him, “and I keep no one here. They are all free to leave whenever they want. Go on, go! Run into the woods!” He barred his teeth at the women who shivered and looked away or who met his gaze. He turned back to Jé Kinah as he stayed just out of her reach. “I know you do not understand now…but you will.”

Out of nowhere Maja leapt at Jé Kinah and hit her arm with all her might. The dagger went flying upwards and skittered onto the rocky ground somewhere behind her. Jé Kinah spun around, ducking her next blow then leapt back.

“Do not stop me Maja!”

Maja put herself firmly between Jé Kinah and the wolf. She showed no fear, her hands hooked and her gaze as dark as the wolf’s. Her second dash was able to be anticipated and Jé Kinah rolled out of her way and saw the dagger on the ground out of the corner of her eye.

“I am trying to help you!”

Maja was fast, faster than Jé Kinah had known a human to be. She’d been trained by the wolf as she snarled and circled around her. Their fight was fast, lightning quick blows before falling back. After brief clash, Jé Kinah was fairly sure she’d drawn blood, she lunged towards the dagger. But the wolf got there first. Jé Kinah skidded on the stone, unable to stop herself in time and he simply reached down and grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up, her hood falling back from her face. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly at his hand that held her unrelenting.

“Not bad,” he leaned close, “but not good enough.”

“She’s not human.” Maja exclaimed. “Look!”

The wolf turned her head and Jé Kinah felt her skin pinch. His eyes narrowed as he turned her back. “What manner of forest imp are you?”

Jé Kinah couldn’t swallow. “Elf.” She rasped.

“The village sent an elf in place of one of their own,” the wolf lifted her up, her feet swinging high off the ground, “or did you volunteer?”

Her sight swam and she knew she was seconds away from passing out. The wolf held her up like a trophy.

“You see! Not even the fair folk of the earth are safe in your village! Those that you remember with fondness care nothing for you! You are nothing to them! I alone protect you! I am the truth you will never escape!” He dropped her to the ground and Jé Kinah wheezed life into her lungs. “Bind her!”

Elves had a wonderful ability to get out of most human bonds. Jé Kinah had already, on several occasions, simply relaxed her body and slipped her wrists from shackles or even knots of rope. But the wolf was no fool. Once her hands and feet were strapped together he tightened the ropes to breaking point. Only a blade or teeth would ever be able to loosen her ankles or wrists. She was forced to her knees and bound to a tree on the edge of the clearing facing the cave. A piece of rope was tied around her neck and the trunk of the tree as a final assurance that she could go nowhere.

Her eyes glared murder at the wolf as he squatted in front of her, his form still split between man and beast. It was difficult to know where one ended and the other began. But Jé Kinah knew that the man, whoever he had been when he had been bitten by the werewolf, had all but disappeared into the power of the wolf.

“I care not if you came here of your own volition but I will make sure the village pays the price for your little insurrection.”

“The villagers do not know I took Ingrid’s place,” Jé Kinah gasped past the rope around her neck, “they are innocent!”

“A decade of blood on their hands? They are hardly innocent.”

Jé Kinah quivered in fear. What had she unleashed upon the village? As the wolf moved away she called out.

“What about Albrecht?”

The wolf turned to her. “Who?”

“He is the priest who organized the festival of the wolf. He turned this whole annual full moon offering into an event so that, in the midst of the celebrations, no one could hear the mothers and father weep.”

The wolf snorted and howled with laughter. “I love humans! They are so fickle! So easy to turn! Whoever this Albrecht is, he is no agent of mine but he clearly took advantage of the people’s despair. They practically begged to be brought under power.” He put his claw hand on the tree and leant down. “Humans want a master. Nay, they need a master,” he sniffed, his fingers scraping through her hair, caressing her ears, “and elf or no, you will submit to me…eventually.”

“Never.” Jé Kinah spat. He grabbed her chin tight.

“And just so you know how good I am to you,” he slapped her hard, her bottom lip splitting and her senses reeling, “that is a taste of how bad I can be,” he grabbed her chin again and made her look him in the eyes, “and next time you defy me...I’ll use my claws.”

He made her stay like that for the rest of the night and all through the next day. During the day he was forced back to wolf form. He made no secret of the transformation, his body snapping and cracking as it compressed and stretched into his enormous beast form. Hair sprouted all over his body and his snout elongated with a wet, black nose at the end. If the curse of the full moon held true then he had another two nights where he could take human form. Then he would be trapped as a wolf until the next full moon. His cult of women and one son were just as captive of the wolf form as they were of the half man, half beast one. Scared and transfixed. As the sun rose in the sky the wolf retreated into the cave with his harem and Jé Kinah was left alone.

The red riding hood was gone. She did not know for certain what the wolf had done with it but it was likely he had returned it to the village before dawn had broken.

Her mouth was throbbing from his blow and her tongue was dry. No matter how she squirmed, she could not free herself and the rope around her neck pulled tighter the more she strained against it. She slept fitfully, small naps that did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion she felt. One time she heard footsteps approach her position and her eyes flicked wide open. Amalia stood before her with a shallow bowl of water. She held her fingers to her lips.

“He said you were allowed water in order to know his grace but I would not make a fuss about it.”

Jé Kinah eyed it with suspicion but she was dying for a drink. Amalia held it to her lips and she sipped several times.

“Thank you.” She croaked, feeling her body relax a little and closed her eyes. She opened them again when Amalia pressed the edge of her tunic to her lip, wiping away the blood.

“You are already healed.” She remarked.

Jé Kinah blinked. “I am an elf,” even though Amalia dabbed at her lip, she was staring at Jé Kinah’s pointed ears, “we heal quickly.”

“I heard stories of elves...”

“Were they told in my favour?” Jé Kinah asked, curious as to how Amalia viewed her.

“Just stories,” Amalia said vaguely, “dat you are eternal, dat you are pure,” her eyes were arrested by Jé Kinah’s moss green ones as she searched for truth, “dat you are great warriors und dat you cannot die.”

“Elves are eternal, they are pure and we are skilled warriors...I would be lying if I said I could not die...but we are hard to kill.”

Amalia swallowed. “Und...what kind of things...have you killed?”

“All kinds.”

“Big animals?”

“Very.”

“Creatures not of de earth?”

“Several.”

“Und...unnatural animals?” Jé Kinah saw the question in her eyes. She wasn’t just searching for truth. She was also searching for hope. The pause was too long and Amalia shifted back. “It is not important. I just thought...I should go.”

“How is Mikael?”

Amalia turned back to her, relief on her face. “His fever has broken und he took some broth before I came out here to you.”

Jé Kinah breathed out. “Good.”

“You won’t succeed against him.”

“I bed your pardon?”

“Against de wolf,” Amalia winced at the memory of her own insubordination, “you cannot succeed.”

Jé Kinah swallowed, feeling the rope graze her throat. “Is that the wolf speaking? Or Maja? Or Amalia?” She eyed the young woman. “What of Mikael’s mother? What does she want?”

Amalia’s lip trembled. “She wants her son to run free, to grow up normally und to have a family dat is not riddled with fear und death.”

“Are there others who feel the same way?”

“We have all learnt to keep any such thoughts hidden.”

“But you recognise them all the same?”

“Of course,” the light in her eyes dimmed, “but it is impossible, even for you.”

“Not if you get me the dagger I brought.”

Amalia began to shake her head and then stopped. “I do not know where it is.”

“Any blade will do. Cut my bonds. I will get you far from here,” Jé Kinah could only reach out to her with her eyes, “for Mikael.”

Amalia shivered then dashed away. Jé Kinah wasn’t sure what she had decided and sank against the tree.

“What do I do?” She asked the pale blue snippet of sky she could see through the gathering clouds as night began to fall. “Perhaps if I were good enough…or good at all…I am failing you.”

She longed to take hold of the vial she had worn around her neck for so long but her hands were bound and her anchor of all that was good and kind and compassionate was far away in someone else’s care. She closed her eyes, salty tears streaking down her face, stinging the cut on her lip.

“No one can be all bad. There’s good in everyone.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can I first ask why it is so hard for you to believe?”

“Personal experience.”

“Then I suppose my answer is the same.”

“Do you not see where I am? Where I have been for years? Do you not know how she has tormented me? How can you say that there is good in her?”

“Because I believe.”

Jé Kinah jolted awake, the ropes around her wrists falling away. She tried to twist to see who it was.

“Do not move. I do not want to cut you.”

“Amalia,” Jé Kinah held herself very still as she cut at the rope around her neck gingerly, “I did not think you would come.”

“I did not think I would either.” The rope slipped away and Jé Kinah turned her head, feeling her muscles protest. She rubbed her wrists and stood up as the last of the rope slackened.

“What changed your mind?” Amalia’s hand rested on Mikael’s curly hair as he stood next to her. Jé Kinah nodded. “Did anyone else come?”

“Two other girls and their babies.”

Jé Kinah sighed. It was so few out of so many...but no matter the number, their lives were precious and they had put them into her hands. “Let us go.” They edged around the clearing, one eye always on the cave. Jé Kinah had a fairly good idea of the direction of the village but she wanted to return the way they had come. There was no knowing what hidden dangers were in the wood. At least she knew the way she had come was safe.

Mikael gave the smallest whimper.

“All will be well.” Jé Kinah promised quietly.

Suddenly Maja emerged from the edge of the wood and stood in their path. Jé Kinah heard the women gasp behind her and put her arm out protectively.

“Let us pass Maja,” she said firmly, “if you want to stay then stay. But do not imprison those who wish to leave.”

“Such a decision is not mine to make.”

“It is mine.”

Amalia gave a shot cry and Jé Kinah spun around. The wolf stood at their backs with the remainder of his harem behind him. Day had turned to night and the beast had become mostly man again. His muscles were taut and his fur bristled with barely contained rage.

“I give you protection and love and this is how you repay me?” He said in a cold, spine chilling rage. “When I first met you, you were nothing! You were flung into the woods, cast from your home and family! I could have killed you! I could have torn you limb from limb but I chose compassion and mercy. And this is what I receive in return?!”

Jé Kinah put herself between the wolf and the girls and they cowered behind her small frame as if she would be of any protection should the wolf descend upon them with claws outstretched.

“Now one of you will die.”

“Then let it be me,” Jé Kinah commanded firmly, “let no one else suffer.”

“Oh no...not you. I want you to live with the guilt of what you’ve done. For the rest of you eternal life I want you to look at the bones of one of my own that you led astray!”

One of the girls, Ebba, began to scream and claw at Maja who grabbed her by the hair and started to drag her towards the wolf. Her daughter cried out for mercy, clinging to her mother’s body and the children dissolved into weeping and hysterics...

...and something snapped deep within Jé Kinah. Something dark...something malevolent…something hot. Her eyes turned into black pools and as though someone had poured tar over her head, her silvery blonde hair became streaked with darkness. Her veins darkened, filled with fire and rage and her hands hooked into claws, her nails growing long, splintering out into dark green shards.

“Let her go.” She said, not realizing her voice had grown entirely too deep and unnatural for an elf. Maja had not realized the change, still dragging Ebba towards the wolf, when a scaly hand clamped down on her arm and she looked up, her face going from determination to terror in a heartbeat. “I said…let…her…go!”

The roar echoed through the wood. There wasn’t one bird, not a single animal that wasn’t sent scurrying from its hiding place, all going as fast as their legs could carry them…away from the clearing at the heart of the wood.

Jé Kinah’s form had grown, she could feel the wood diminish and everything was bathed in shadow and fire. She could hear something stretch out behind her, something made of leather…something huge that cast a shadow blacker than anything else on the earth could create.

Not one face was not cast in fear. Not one woman or child was not rendered senseless by the grotesque that stood before them and they cowered on the rocky ground.

No one that is, except for the wolf.

He gazed up at her with bright, wide eyes. His jaw opened wide and he clasped his hands together.

“What glorious creation is this?” He crowed. “What beauty and sorrow lay within your thin, fair, pure breast? Oh wonderful! Simply wonderful!” He fairly well skipped with joy and went down on one knee before her. “There is none more beautiful than you!”

Jé Kinah’s gaze flinched. She heard his words, his praise grazing her soul but they did not touch her heart. And as she looked down over the women and children who cowered at her feet, she breathed in…and felt herself diminish. The wolf was nearly giddy as he gazed at her, his claws reaching out…

“Ask it of me and it shall be yours!”

Jé Kinah’s mind was a haze. For a moment all she had known was instinct and rage, hunger and an animalistic response. It was like a hot blanket over her thoughts and she blinked to clear the fog.

“Let them go.” She rasped through the tightness in her breast.

“Yes, yes of course.”

“Let them all go.”

“Anything you want,” the wolf stood up, “but you will stay.” Jé Kinah couldn’t talk. She was shaking so hard she couldn’t put words together. She simply nodded as she sank to her knees. The wolf stood up. “Hear this! You must all leave at once! Go back to your village!”

“But…you can’t!” Maja blurted.

“You must all go!” The wolf had no eyes except for Jé Kinah.

“We are your chosen, your beloved und you made us your own. We cannot leave.”

Jé Kinah stared at the rocky ground in front of her, the blur before her eyes finally sharpening and her world came back into focus.

“There is no place for you here now. You must all go!”

“Amalia,” Jé Kinah blinked, “go…”

Amalia took up Mikael and ran. Her movement broke the tide and like a wave most of the women and children bolted for the woods. Maja tried to break the wolf’s transfixed gaze by stepping between them.

“I will not leave you.”

“Would you do anything I ask?”

“Of course.”

“Then leave.” When Maja hesitated the wolf turned on her and snapped. “Leave!”

And then they were alone. The wolf reached down and held out his hand. Jé Kinah swallowed and slid her fingers into his grasp. He drew her up onto her feet and led her back into the clearing. He then circled her with an awestruck eye.

“To think I nearly tore out your throat…” He half chuckled. “What a waste, what a shame…Yet here you are. Perfection.” Jé Kinah watched him warily as he continue to circle. “I did not want much, just a village to call my own, a wood in which to hunt and women for my own pleasure. I could have demanded so much more. But I was restrained. I was not greedy. One fair maid a year. Not many would have been content with that. You…you are my reward. I could have lived a thousand lifetimes and never found you.” Jé Kinah listened to his ramblings, so very aware that she was defenceless. She had no silver dagger to kill the wolf with and though she knew her other form could obliterate him, the primal instinct that initiated the change was gone and the beast buried itself deep within her again…hibernating.

The wolf continued to speak but now he was talking to himself. “Still…there is the matter of…and she would not be pleased if I withheld you from her,” he paced around and around her, “her wrath if she should ever find out…but if she didn’t…and even if she did…I have you!” He looked her full in the face, his eyes alight with internal fire. “You are mine.”

“I will never be yours.” She snarled at him.

“I beg to differ,” he chuckled, “for no matter your power, no matter your hidden talents, you made a covenant with a beast,” he leaned forward and whispered hot into her ear, “til death do us part.”

Jé Kinah shivered then was thrown back as he hit her. “Now change!” He demanded, surging forward. She scrambled away from him but he advanced on her like a spider on a fly. “Change!” He lashed out with his claws and she blocked him and kicked out, catching him in the stomach. He barely flinched, grabbed her leg and threw her to one side.

“Change!”

“I cannot do what you ask!” She rolled to one side, turning his kick into a glancing blow.

“Do not play the fool! I want to see it! Now change!”

Jé Kinah finally found some sure footing and when he charged her next she twisted so that he flew past and slugged him hard in the head. His skull was like iron and she felt her knuckles groan. The wolf didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was laughing!

“You are going to have to do better than that!”

Trading blows they moved all around the clearing, Jé Kinah only just holding her own. The wolf was unrelenting in his determination to beat it out of her. Yet nothing happened. And it was possible the wolf would accidentally kill her in the process.

Jé Kinah fell backwards and rolled. Her hand was able to rip a stone from its mooring and she hid it as she bent over, clutching at her ribs and groaning. The wolf grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. His eyes pierced her and his jaw opened wide. “I want my prize!”

Jé Kinah slammed his head with the rock and he howled, dropping her hard. But she was up and fast and laid into him as hard as she could muster. Suddenly something hit her like a charging bull and she was thrown into a thicket. Maja stood over her.

“You are not worthy!” She cried and produced the silver dagger. “I will purge you from my clan!”

Jé Kinah scrambled to get out of the way. Fighting with fists was one thing. However, after what she had experienced in the church by the merest nick of the blade, fighting against the silver dagger was entirely another. But no matter where she was, no matter where she managed to go, Maja was already there, swinging hard and fast, Jé Kinah barely keeping herself away from the blade’s edge.

The wolf cheered and kept close to their battle. “Yes! Yes! Change! You must change in order to survive! Change!”

Jé Kinah was knocked to the ground, her head hitting the stone. Her vision doubled as she looked up and saw someone advancing towards her. She tried to get up, to get out of the way but she was too slow and her breathing echoed inside her head. Suddenly a hand cupped her face and the smell of fresh cut hay, spring rain and warm ale washed over her. Two blue eyes looked into hers.

“Wait…just wait…”

“Wait…” She called out then screamed. Maja had stabbed her with the dagger in her right shoulder. The pain was unending, streaking out from the wound to the tips of her toes, fingers…even her hair. Jé Kinah howled at the onslaught, writhing at its merciless agony.

Maja pulled the dagger free. “Time to separate de weak from de strong!”

“No!” The wolf shoved Maja aside, the force throwing her into a tree and he knelt over Jé Kinah. “No…no…oh…it is not fatal. Oh my love…my own…my only…” His claws touched the blood and he licked his fingers, his eyes rolling in his head. “Such power and so much death…you are a feast…I will drink of you forever!”

Jé Kinah’s head rolled over and she saw Maja drag herself up from where she had fallen. There was something different about her face. It was clear, the fog having risen from her mind. She saw the world as it was, not as she had been told and suddenly there was a twinge of fear…and a great deal of anger.

“Til death do us part?” Jé Kinah whispered weakly.

“Have no fear. I will keep you alive for all eternity. I promise you!” The wolf vowed.

“Alas…I cannot make the same promise.”

Maja buried the dagger up to the hilt in the wolf’s back. This time there was no room for error. She drove it in deep where it pierced his heart. The wolf surged, flailing his arms wide and Maja was thrown from him but the damage had been done. The wolf writhed and twisted, trying to get the dagger out but he couldn’t grasp it. His howls chilled Jé Kinah to the core until at last he collapsed on the ground, his legs still kicking in the last throes of death. Jé Kinah rolled over and crawled to where he was heaving. His eyes had lost their glow and his claws had ground down into stumps as he grasped at the stone upon which he lay.

“Who is she?” Jé Kinah demanded and made herself get up to look the wolf in the face. “Who is looking for me?” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “Who!”

“The Queen!”

“Which queen?” Jé Kinah gripped his head and yanked it up. “Who?” She jumped when the wolf opened its eyes…and the gaze of a human stared back at her.

“Is it over?” His voice had changed. It was not the voice of the wolf anymore. His voice was mellow, full of soul and dipped in a heavy accent. “Is de nightmare finally over?”

Jé Kinah stared at him in shock. “You are the human who was bitten by a werewolf.”

“Nee, I was a fool,” he wheezed heavily, “eternal youth. It promised me I would live forever!”

“You were not attacked by a werewolf. You made a covenant with darkness and became a werewolf.” Jé Kinah gasped.

“I did not want to die…I did not know there were worse things,” he gurgled, blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth, “forgive me. Forgive Gerulf.”

His hands, without claws or matted fur, grasped weakly at her tunic. Jé Kinah could see the terror in his eyes and suddenly found she couldn’t hate this man. She, too, knew about desperately needing to be forgiven.

“I forgive you.” She whispered. The man sank onto the stone with a deep sigh and his body crumpled into powder, falling from her fingers.

Maja didn’t say a word as they walked through the wood. She hadn’t let the others go far before turning back to confront Jé Kinah and the wolf. Once they had rejoined them the first thing they did was tell the frightened women and children that they never need fear the wolf again. Jé Kinah led them to the cottage where the path back to the village was still clearly marked.

Dawn was approaching. Dew drops had settled on the spider webs but they were also on the flowers and new buds of grass that had begun to grow. The trees were no longer black and charred. Their bark had lightened and the first of a new season of blossoms had already begun to sprout. It would not be long before the wood was back to its old self. As would Jé Kinah. Her shoulder was full of pain but she was no longer paralysed by it. In a few days, with her elfish ability to heal, it would be a pale scar against paler skin.

It would take longer for the human hearts to heal.

As they approached the edge of the forest, open land finally in view and warm sunlight spilling across the waving wheat expanse, Maja slowed, fear in her eyes.

“How can I,” she whispered, “how can I go back there after all dat I have done?”

Jé Kinah looked up at her face. It was like looking in a mirror. The reflection might not be the same but the expression was identical to that which Jé Kinah had worn not that long ago.

“There are families waiting for you. Mothers and fathers, the entire village will be there.”

“Not everyone.” Maja’s eyes filled with tears.

Jé Kinah winced. “No. I am sorry.”

“Amalia told me my parents were dead when she first arrived. I felt nothing. I was barren on de inside. All I knew was…him.”

“You did what you did in order to survive.”

“At what price,” Maja looked at the other women and their children who had gathered together at the edge of the forest, “what I have done…”

“Only if you hide from it and pretend it did not happen will it hold you captive.” Jé Kinah promised. “Do not let your memories become your prison.”

Maja’s hand was never far from the curly hair of the heads of her two daughters and she stroked them. “What of de children?”

“Children are resilient. They will survive.”

“No, I mean…they are children of de wolf…”

The she-elf shook her head. “No. They are children of the mother and the man who made the covenant with the wolf. I sense no corruption in them. They are wholly human.”

“Look!” Amalia pointed. Through the glare of the new dawn, a gathering of figures appeared in silhouette, walking across the small field that lay between the village and the wood. Maja trembled. Jé Kinah took her hand and walked with her at the head of the crowd. And as they had done, some for nearly a decade, the survivors of the wolf followed behind her. The sun rose just a little higher and the shapes became people. And at the front of the crowd were Gertrude, Ingrid and Corbin.

“You’re alive!” Gertrude cried. “Praise be to God! You are alive!”

The front line of villagers, mostly made up of the mothers and fathers who had thought their daughters dead, nearly tackled the women in the desperation to embrace them and the sound of weeping and laughing filled the air. It seemed that the entire village had come out to see the daughters returned to them.

Gertrude clasped Jé Kinah’s arms and embraced her firmly. “I did not stop praying for you! When you did not return I thought de wolf had killed you but I did not stop praying!” Jé Kinah wasn’t sure how to handle this gush of emotion so she nodded and stepped back. Elves weren’t known to be ‘gushy’.

“When de wolf killed Albrecht und left de riding hood over his body…” Ingrid began.

“Wait, Albrecht is dead?”

“We found him yesterday morning,” Corbin cleared his throat, “at least…we found what was left of him.”

Jé Kinah closed her eyes. “When the wolf found out I was not who I claimed to be he spoke of retaliation. Albrecht was a fool but he did not deserve to die like that.”

“Why be sorrowful when we can be joyful!” Gertrude clasped her hands. “Look!”

Jé Kinah watched the families reunite, the village made whole again once more. All except for Maja and her daughters. They looked lost and even a little frightened as they stood at the edge of the rejoicing families. “I would ask no reward,” Jé Kinah turned to Ingrid and Gertrude, “but Maja…she has no family to return to…”

“She does now.” Ingrid said firmly, taking Corbin’s hand and walking over to them. After an awkward moment Ingrid embraced Maja and held her until her resistance melted away and she sank against Ingrid’s shoulder.

“I promise we will look after them, “Gertrude assured her, “we will look after all of them.” She took her hand out of her pocket. “It stayed with me as I prayed.”

Jé Kinah tied the leather straps around her neck and grasped the vial tightly, calmness sweeping over her being. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I have one question. Does the name Gerulf mean anything to you?”

“There is no one by dat name in de village.” Gertrude frowned. “Wait…Maja’s Opa. His name was Gerulf. He disappeared de summer before Maja did but he was never found. We all assumed he’d fallen down a ravine or something.”

Jé Kinah felt her blood chill as she looked at Maja who was introducing her daughters to Ingrid. “Gertrude…it would be best if you kept that bit of information to yourself.”

Gertrude blinked then nodded. “Of course.”

Jé Kinah was relieved to be back in her clothes again. She folded up Ingrid’s tunic and tights and put them down on the bed. She checked over her satchel, made sure her bow and arrows were in good condition then set a leather parcel down on the table. Gingerly she opened it and the layers fell away to reveal the silver dagger. Jé Kinah could see her reflection in its blade. She swallowed, the memory of the pain in her shoulder far too close for comfort. She wrapped the dagger back up and bound it tightly with cord.

“Gerulf,” she murmured, “the wolf.”

His dying words echoed in her mind. “Eternal youth! It promised me I would live forever!”

“The only thing his wife would not have been able to heal,” Jé Kinah mused, “old age. How long did it take before the wolf took over fully and Gerulf had been all but forgotten?”

“Jé Kinah! De festival has begun. We are all waiting for,” Ingrid moved from the doorway and saw Jé Kinah slide the leather parcel into her satchel, “what are you doing?” Jé Kinah didn’t speak, putting her hood up instead. “You are leaving? You can’t! Please!” Ingrid, seeing her plea was making no effect, ran from the house. Jé Kinah wasted no time in slinging her satchel onto her back and heading out into the night. She went in the opposite direction of the light and music where the villagers were hosting their celebration of their daughters and grandchildren that had returned home.

The air was pleasantly warm and the moon was mostly full and cast delightful shadows all around. Jé Kinah didn’t get far before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Wait!” Gertrude cried. “Please, wait!” Jé Kinah sighed and turned bac. She had been trying to avoid any fuss and bother about her leaving. Ingrid was standing behind her mother who stepped close. “You are leaving.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“I have a long way to go.” Jé Kinah said with her hand on the vial around her neck.

Gertrude moved closer again. “You do not mean in distance do you? You mean you have a long way to go,” she put her hand on Jé Kinah’s chest, right over her heart, “in here, ya?” Jé Kinah flinched but said nothing, her jaw hardening as her walls of protection went up. Gertrude looked up into her face. “You come into a town you do not know, take de place of a daughter whose moeder has not de courage to fight for her und go out into de woods to face a wolf dat would almost certainly kill you.”

“He was never going to kill me.”

“You did not know dat,” Gertrude argued, “yet you were prepared to die for my daughter, for all of our daughters, as an act of redemption.” Her blue eyes searched Jé Kinah’s intensely, hunting for the truth behind her hard expression. “What could you possibly have done dat would warrant such a sacrifice?”

Jé Kinah bottom lip trembled and she stepped back, gaining some distance. “My reasons are my own.”

Gertrude’s face was full of sympathy. Jé Kinah looked away, willing herself not to break down in front of her. “Very well. If you will not accept our thanks for all dat you have done,” Gertrude looked back at Ingrid who came forward, “please accept this.” Ingrid handed Jé Kinah a heavy parcel. As she held it up, it unfolded to reveal the red riding hood with white stitching. Jé Kinah looked at Gertrude in surprise. “I do not want it to stay in de village. It became a snare to our feet once before. I cannot allow it to do so again.” Gertrude explained. “But it is not just dat. It may be ten years old but it is of good quality material und has been well taken care of.” Gertrude swung it around Jé Kinah’s body and brought the hood up over her head. “Where you are going, it will be cold. This will keep you warm.”

Jé Kinah felt the hood cast a comforting, dark shadow over her face. She gave Gertrude one of her rare smiles. “I believe it shall.” She gave a shallow bow. “Farewell.”

“Und God speed.” Gertrude nodded.

Jé Kinah turned and walked without looking back. As she passed over the little bridge, the stream gurgled happily at her and a lazy breeze pulsed through the fields of wheat and they shifted, rustling in harmony for the first time in ten years. Her pointed ears could hear the sounds of little animals scurrying about and an owl hooted as it flew by. The stars twinkled over head as she passed well beyond the borders of the village, reaching the crossroads. She looked up at the sign post, the same action she had made not three days earlier yet it felt like it was a memory from years before.

“Well,” she asked, clasping her vial, “where to now I wonder?” She glanced back at the sign post and chose a direction at random. Jé Kinah adjusted her satchel on her back, held her head up and kept walking into the night.