Prologue
The fire crackled amidst logs surrounded by stones in the pit where they all ate, drank and talked. Another wolf disposed of, one less monster in the world, but his head was elsewhere. Minutes turned into hours and slowly most of the men made their way to the tents on the border of the woods.
“She’s pretty.”
He jumped and the Captain chuckled lightly, coming to sit beside him on an adjoining boulder.
“Just me, kid.”
Henry nodded, saying nothing. It felt odd keeping his drawing of Valerie out in the open, but he didn’t want to put it away, so it lay pinned between his thumb and forefinger, making him sweat and go numb.
“She’s the girl from your hometown, isn’t she? The one—”
“Yeah,” he cut him off. “Valerie.”
“Whatever happened to her?”
Henry sighed. “I don’t know. Peter, who she truly loved, disappeared unexpectedly. I thought I heard that she moved into her grandmother’s house after she died, but…she could have just as easily gone with him. On the last search for the wolf, she bid me goodbye. To be careful.” He paused, almost laughing at himself that he still clung to the memory. “That’s the last time I saw her.”
“That was three months ago.”
Henry turned to him. “You kept track?”
The Captain smiled and looked at him knowingly. “Let’s just say the experience with your wolf was not of the typical variety when we’re summoned.”
Silence settled between them till all that could be heard was the continued crackling of the fire. When a snore broke out from a nearby tent, the Captain chuckled. Even Henry smiled.
“On that note, I think I’m going to head off myself.” The Captain rose, briefly touching Henry’s shoulder just before retreating to his tent. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry.”
He nodded. “Thank you, sir. Happy to be here.”
The Captain smiled. “We’ll be making our way back around to your hometown in another few weeks I should think.” Henry’s eyes widened. His lips parted. “Maybe you’ll see your girl there.”
Henry swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
The Captain smiled and then turned around, his cape whooshing around him as he headed in the direction of the tents.
Henry lowered his gaze to the picture of Valerie again. No one knew of his aptitude for artistry, but as he’d watched Valerie grow and seen her forever turning her gaze from his to Peter’s, he’d developed a love for her profile. Her graceful neck, large, curious eyes, and endless streams of long silken hair, made from the strands of angels he was sure…all called to him. He wanted to imprint it for himself somewhere but in the back of his own mind.
So he took up drawing at the age of twelve and progressed to where now, at nineteen, the picture was no different than if she were standing right before him. It lacked color, but always being on the road left him with few options. Not that he needed color to remember the shades and hues she embodied, or the way he felt about her still.
He closed his eyes and saw the drawing in color. He saw her expression change from impassive to curious to smiling to laughter. She had the most beautiful smile, the most vivacious spirit. He loved her.
Maybe you’ll see your girl there.
He sighed and slipped the small drawing inside the large pocket sewn into his cloak.
She wasn’t his girl, and she likely never would be. If his luck regarding her remained the same, she had probably already run off with Peter, the great love of her life. The thought sickened and depressed him. But he couldn’t hate her for it. He couldn’t even hate Peter. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant never being with him, never loving him or wanting him the way he wanted her. Three months away from her hadn’t changed it. No leering from bar maids or sincere gratefulness from young women in the villages he’d passed through with the monster hunters changed that.
Despite it all, his heart still skipped a beat at the thought of seeing her again. Having more than a drawing and a memory to remember her by encouraged him as nothing else could have.
He poked the fire with a stick until it finally went out. Then he retreated to his tent and fell into a restful sleep.
“She’s pretty.”
He jumped and the Captain chuckled lightly, coming to sit beside him on an adjoining boulder.
“Just me, kid.”
Henry nodded, saying nothing. It felt odd keeping his drawing of Valerie out in the open, but he didn’t want to put it away, so it lay pinned between his thumb and forefinger, making him sweat and go numb.
“She’s the girl from your hometown, isn’t she? The one—”
“Yeah,” he cut him off. “Valerie.”
“Whatever happened to her?”
Henry sighed. “I don’t know. Peter, who she truly loved, disappeared unexpectedly. I thought I heard that she moved into her grandmother’s house after she died, but…she could have just as easily gone with him. On the last search for the wolf, she bid me goodbye. To be careful.” He paused, almost laughing at himself that he still clung to the memory. “That’s the last time I saw her.”
“That was three months ago.”
Henry turned to him. “You kept track?”
The Captain smiled and looked at him knowingly. “Let’s just say the experience with your wolf was not of the typical variety when we’re summoned.”
Silence settled between them till all that could be heard was the continued crackling of the fire. When a snore broke out from a nearby tent, the Captain chuckled. Even Henry smiled.
“On that note, I think I’m going to head off myself.” The Captain rose, briefly touching Henry’s shoulder just before retreating to his tent. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry.”
He nodded. “Thank you, sir. Happy to be here.”
The Captain smiled. “We’ll be making our way back around to your hometown in another few weeks I should think.” Henry’s eyes widened. His lips parted. “Maybe you’ll see your girl there.”
Henry swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
The Captain smiled and then turned around, his cape whooshing around him as he headed in the direction of the tents.
Henry lowered his gaze to the picture of Valerie again. No one knew of his aptitude for artistry, but as he’d watched Valerie grow and seen her forever turning her gaze from his to Peter’s, he’d developed a love for her profile. Her graceful neck, large, curious eyes, and endless streams of long silken hair, made from the strands of angels he was sure…all called to him. He wanted to imprint it for himself somewhere but in the back of his own mind.
So he took up drawing at the age of twelve and progressed to where now, at nineteen, the picture was no different than if she were standing right before him. It lacked color, but always being on the road left him with few options. Not that he needed color to remember the shades and hues she embodied, or the way he felt about her still.
He closed his eyes and saw the drawing in color. He saw her expression change from impassive to curious to smiling to laughter. She had the most beautiful smile, the most vivacious spirit. He loved her.
Maybe you’ll see your girl there.
He sighed and slipped the small drawing inside the large pocket sewn into his cloak.
She wasn’t his girl, and she likely never would be. If his luck regarding her remained the same, she had probably already run off with Peter, the great love of her life. The thought sickened and depressed him. But he couldn’t hate her for it. He couldn’t even hate Peter. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant never being with him, never loving him or wanting him the way he wanted her. Three months away from her hadn’t changed it. No leering from bar maids or sincere gratefulness from young women in the villages he’d passed through with the monster hunters changed that.
Despite it all, his heart still skipped a beat at the thought of seeing her again. Having more than a drawing and a memory to remember her by encouraged him as nothing else could have.
He poked the fire with a stick until it finally went out. Then he retreated to his tent and fell into a restful sleep.