Werewolf

Chapter 1

“We’re almost there, my dear. Just hang on a little bit longer…” the older man called over his shoulder. Klara shivered, soaking wet from the freezing rain. She hoped that all the misery they had endured the past few weeks of travel would be worth it. Her second chance.

The trip itself was full of passersby, and the older man was on constant alert for highwaymen. He’d tried to hide his worry from Klara, but she couldn’t miss the darting of his eyes or how carefully he hid them in the woods at night. He kept a few weapons handy to defend against any threat they might see, whether animal or human. If he allowed a fire, it was always small and the light was obscured from anyone outside the camp.

They were slow-moving, able to move only about 20-30 miles per day as the two Palfrey mares trudged through on unkempt roads and then on rough, rocky terrain when the roads disappeared. When the journey began, the mares were a beautiful, shining red pearl variety that the girl hadn’t seen much of in her village. Now, as they near their destination, the hardy horses were darkened by dirt that the freezing rain seemed to spread rather than wash away.

It had rained more often than not, allowing the cold wind to settle in the travelers’ bones. They had stopped at an inn early on but left after eating a paltry meal as many patrons took ill. They hadn’t left quick enough, however, and soon the weather and her own exhaustion led to Klara falling ill. The difficulty in traveling didn’t ease up either, as the rain had turned creeks into rivers that were much harder to cross. Often, the travelers would be forced to climb down from the wagon and hike a good distance, leading the horses around or through the water. The walking was meant to warm them, but often the girl wondered how effective it was. While still cold on the carriage, some of the wind was blocked by the vehicle, but walking in front meant they were fully exposed to the elements. The girl found herself wishing for better clothes or more blankets for that matter, but she had very little that had survived the incident. Perhaps she could have traded a few of her meager possessions, but it was too late now.

She never voiced her regret, as the man was clearly doing everything he could to make the miserable journey a little easier on her. He knew she had not yet experienced travel as she had never left home before, and he tried to be as good a guide and companion as possible.

At least we’re not the only ones out here, she often thought. Every now and again over the weeks, they would see other travelers. A royal messenger raced by on his horse one day, but not fast enough for her to miss the beautifully stitched garb he and his horse bore. But even the golden threads of their station could not gleam in such gloomy weather, and soon the messenger was out of sight. After their stay at the inn, just outside of Bavaria, they had come across a band of monks. The monks were kind, mild-mannered men cloaked in rough, brown fabric and a hand-woven belt of rope wrapped around their waists. Klara and the older man spent several days traveling with the monks, listening to their stories and scriptures. As the girl began to fall ill, they gathered herbs and other vegetation she didn’t recognize, mixed it with a liquid she couldn’t identify, and gave it to the older man with careful instructions on how to dispense it to relieve the girl’s symptoms. She didn’t think it helped at first, but after a week she began to feel better and silently thanked the monks for their help.

The rest of the trip went much like this. Bad weather, forgotten roads, and varied passersby came and went, and on they trudged, seemingly endlessly. The girl had begun to think that they were most certainly lost and would never reach their destination when a large town finally came into view. Klara sighed in relief at seeing civilization again and knowing that their ordeal was just about over. Not long after entering the village, the old man pulled the reins to stop the horses.

“Here you are, your new home.” The old man said as he hopped down from the wagon. The seventeen year old girl gripped the edges for support to help her to stand on her shaking legs. The long, torturous weeks of travel had made its mark on her thinning body.

“Here, take my hand, schatzchen.” The old man took her hand as she stumbled to the cold, wet ground, her world tilting slightly.

“Oh God, let’s get you inside!” He ushered her to the small house and knocked quickly. “Hello? Anyone home?”

The door flew open to reveal a woman with grey hair pulled tightly away from her wrinkled face, her dark purple dress made of the finest satin with silver trimming swishing around her feet.

The woman’s eyes flashed as she sneered at the girl before her. “Who is this?” she demanded.

“Gertrude, this is your niece, Klara.” The woman’s cold gaze didn’t lighten even as Klara tried to dip into a curtsy. Her legs wobbled and the old man steadied her.

“That pathetic wisp isn’t my niece. You’ve made a mistake, Gerone,” Gertrude said darkly. Klara tried to stand on her own to show her aunt that she was strong but all her energy was gone.

“I have not!” the old man insisted, supporting the poor girl. “Klara has had a long, hard journey. You should show some compassion!”

The woman scoffed and said, “Very well, Gerone. Take her to the room we have set up then bring whatever she has inside.” Gertrude didn’t even acknowledge her niece and Klara felt her heart sink. She’d hoped she’d be welcome here but it didn’t seem likely. Gerone ushered her upstairs two flights of stairs to the room on the right. He opened the door and Klara was frozen in place. It was amazing. The room was larger than she could have ever imagined with a bed, beautiful windows, and even a wardrobe! Gerone led her inside and helped her sit on the bed.

“Now, you settle in and rest. I’ll bring up your things.”

He turned to go when Klara reached out to him and said, “Thank you, for everything.” Gerone smiled and kissed her forehead before leaving her in the quiet room. Klara looked around as she took off her shoes and tried to rub the warmth back into her cold feet. She flinched and knew that she’d better take off her socks, but she was afraid of what she might see. Nervously, she peeled one soggy sock off and gasped. The skin of her foot had turned a ghastly white, with blisters all over that had popped and since scabbed over. She pulled off the other one and it was just as bad. Right then Gerone came in with the two small, worn out suitcases, and one battered hand bag she’d brought along. He saw her feet and they dropped heavily to the floor.

“Klara!” he gasped, rushing to her and lifting one of her poor feet to inspect it. “What happened?”

“I-It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Klara tried to pull away but Gerone grabbed her arms and demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t have better socks? Or shoes for that matter?” Klara shook her head.

“How could I? After everything you’ve done for me…”

“Klara, this is very serious. I told you to come to me for anything, didn’t I?!” Klara ran her hands through her wet, tangled hair.

“Gerone, I don’t deserve such kindness.” Klara whispered.

Gerone sighed and said, “Klara, what happened wasn’t your fault. I’ve told you that.” Klara’s fingers dug through for her pockets for her handkerchief as her vision blurred with tears. Gerone was faster though and dabbed at her cheeks as the tears fell. She sniffled but didn’t pull away from his kindness. He reminded her so much of her father she couldn’t bring herself to stop him.

“Everything will be alright, schatzchen. Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once he was gone, Klara pulled the soggy nightgown over her head as fast as she could, despite shivering and being very weak. If Gerone had seen the true extent of her injuries, he never would have left. Her pale body was thin to the point of showing bones and her skin black and blue still from the incident. It hurt to move, but the comfort of a clean nightgown and a soft bed was worth it. As soon as Klara blew out the candles in her room, she fell into the deepest and most peaceful sleep she’d had in months.

Katie (Crios) Editor: Elizabeth (Eala)

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