A Touch of Poison Page 16

  Brushing herself off a bit, Gwen sighed and contemplated how to proceed. Tambi wasn’t too independent a thinker, so she probably wouldn’t run far. That, or she’d run all the way back to the stables to be with the other horses, which meant a long, long walk ahead of her, which she hoped—

  A trace of movement caught Gwen’s attention.

  Black shadows and patches of grey rock seemed to shift before her eyes, weaving between the trunks of elms at the very edge of the woods.

  Huge, nightmarish amber eyes regarded her from about thirty yards away, and a pair of black lips pulled themselves back to reveal two rows of sharp, angry-looking teeth.

  With awful certainty, she knew exactly what had spooked the mare.

  A dire wolf.

  Three foot high at the shoulder. At least twice her weight. Likely more.

  Staring intently at her, the grey-black monster growled deeply, and Gwen suddenly felt like the whole world had slowed down.

  Chapter 17

  Standing there, looking the huge wolf directly in the eye, Gwen kept as still as possible. It seemed like her heart was pounding so violently the wolf would be able to hear it, despite the distance between them.

  The monstrous wolf simply stood there at the edge of the trees, watching her, growling ominously.

  Without moving her head, Gwen glanced around for something she might be able to use as a weapon. Being the middle of a meadow, away from most of the trees, there weren’t any fallen branches or deadwood laying about, but she did spy a couple of fair sized rocks. One looked to be about the size of her fist.

  She reached down and picked it up, her attention ever on the wolf.

  Her action caused the dire wolf’s growling to increase in volume before returning to a rumble. It continued to stare at her, bristling, waiting.

  There was no point in running. Gwen had seen regular wolves attack prey, and she doubted she could run faster than a deer. A horse might be able to run fast enough to get away. Tambi had gotten away in fact, galloping like the wind and leaving Gwen behind. Not that Gwen could exactly blame her.

  The wolf wasn’t moving forward into the clearing, but simply stood there, teeth bared, growling menacingly in her direction. Perhaps it was waiting for her to run, to try to get away. If she ran, she didn’t think she’d get very far. The closest trees she could see were about twenty yards distant, and quite near where the wolf stood anyways.

  Spying a smaller rock that seemed much better for throwing, Gwen bent down to pick it up, provoking another loud grumble of anger from the beast. She found the prospect of picking up a third rock terrifying, but she couldn’t allow her fear to paralyze her. If she had any chance of making it through this, she needed weapons, and....

  And what did she need with stones, anyway? She was a weapon!

  Gwen hurriedly pulled the gloves from her hands and tossed them to one side. Then, she slid out of her leather riding coat, grabbing it by the collar as it fell behind her. After a moment’s thought, she took the jacket and quickly wrapped it as best she could around her left forearm. Those teeth looked sharp, and the wolf’s jaws were probably strong enough to crush arm-bones without too much trouble, even with her jacket wrapped around her arm. Still, padding seemed like a good idea.

  Without her jacket, her undershirt would provide scant protection, but the more of her skin she exposed the better off she might be. If it got close enough, she had only to touch the monster.

  Gwen could feel her arms tremble, though she didn’t know if that was because of the cool breeze on her bared shoulders, or from the panic she felt.

  The thing was still there, in the exact same spot, still snarling and bristling. Gwen took a deep breath, wondering what would happen next. As she did so, she realized she was still holding the rocks she’d scavenged.

  Without even stopping to think, she threw the smaller of the two rocks right at the beast.

  The dire wolf leaped to one side, easily dodging her projectile. Its growling stopped a moment as it stared at her, considering. Then it began growling again.

  Maybe she was confusing it a bit. She wasn’t exactly behaving like normal prey would, after all, which could be why it hadn’t run at her yet. Maybe it was used to chasing things and was waiting for her to flee. Perhaps if she acted more like a predator, it’d have second thoughts about attacking her.

  Gwen bared her teeth at the wolf, unthinkingly attempting a loud growl as well, though it came out as a gentle wheeze.

  The wolf’s teeth disappeared a moment, and it cocked its head at her as though confused, considering her once more.

  Was it beginning to think of her a potential threat? She bared even more of her teeth at it, taking a half-step forward.

  Quite suddenly, there was a growl so loud Gwen felt it in her chest, and the thing bared its teeth at her with renewed ferocity, making sounds even angrier and more terrifying than before.

  Oops. Now it seemed to want to prove it was scarier than she was. Hardly a difficult thing to demonstrate, under the circumstances.

  Then again, there was something about her it didn’t know.

  Gwen was going to be attacked, and soon. Some abstract part of her brain already knew that. She forced herself to calm down and consider her best options when dealing with that terrifying reality. Her left forearm was padded, so she’d try to keep it between her and the wolf. If she could fend it off with her left, she could attack with her right and hit it with her other rock, or slap at it with her open palm, attempt to touch it with her skin. She could try spitting at the thing as well, and whenever possible she should try to brush up against it with her bared forearms or shoulders. Fur didn’t protect against her touch, something she’d learned to her tremendous sorrow after petting Rolf when she was younger.

  She just needed to hurt it. If the wolf started feeling pain, it might reconsider Gwen’s usefulness as food.

  Gwen licked her lips nervously. A bead of sweat trickled along Gwen’s forehead, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Then, an idea suddenly coming to her, she quickly wiped her brow with her jacket-wrapped forearm, attempting to get as much sweat from her forehead onto the leather as possible before once more holding it out between her and the wolf.

  Go ahead, she thought. Take a bite of that, wolf. I dare you.

  The huge wolf studied her a bit more between growls, as though assessing her behaviour. Then, without warning, it lowered its head and bounded to one side. Just as quickly, it reversed direction with its head back up and ears perked forward, its huge amber eyes never leaving her for even a moment.

  Gwen stood her ground, though terrified and shaking, and held her fist-sized rock aloft.

  A second later the wolf did it again, dancing in the other direction this time, eyes bright and alert, closely watching her reaction. It did the same thing a third time, and then a fourth, tongue lolling over its slick, bone-white teeth.

  The fifth time, it launched itself at her.

  Gwen barely managed to get her arm up in time. Her elbow was shoved into her ribs, and she felt herself stumble back a half-step. Her arm was yanked violently to one side, then the other.

  Bringing her rock-clutching hand around as quickly as possible, she tried smashing it into the nearest bit of blurry black-grey fur she could see. She felt the rock twist out of her sweaty fingers just as she felt rough fur brush up against her hand.

  The rock took the wolf in the flank with a thump, and then fell to the ground.

  The wolf bounded back several paces, presenting its side but facing her, its teeth still bared.

  Gwen’s breathing was ragged now, and she quickly scouted the earth around her for another rock.

  Unhurriedly, the wolf turned in place, fully facing her once more. Then, suddenly, it perked up as though sensing something. It was no longer baring its teeth at her, but was standing there with its no
se in the air, as though something was different about how it smelled. At one point it appeared to glance back at its flank, then back to her.

  Maybe she’d gotten the thing’s attention, or hurt it a bit. Throwing rocks wasn’t what normal prey did, after all, so maybe she was confusing it. Or quite possibly there was something about the smell of chi’darro that made it regard her as something other than food. Wolves had an incredible sense of smell, so if she didn’t smell like prey or act like prey, perhaps she could convince this thing she wasn’t worth trifling with.

  Gwen bared her teeth at it once more, trying to seem more confident than she felt. The dire wolf stood perfectly still, watching her.

  She’d lost track of where her rock had gone, and the only one she could see nearby was much bigger — easily half the size of her head, and oddly shaped.

  Gwen bent down and picked it up, and immediately knew she wouldn’t be able to hang on to it one-handed for very long, much less raise it to shoulder height and throw it. Instead, keeping her jacket-wrapped arm between the two them, she let her other arm hang as she clutched the top of the rock, fingers gripping it desperately. She might have enough strength to do an underhand swing, but it’d have to be soon.

  Appearing to make up its mind about something, the wolf began its crouch-dance anew, pausing each time it finished. Its tongue lolled to one side occasionally, giving her the momentary impression it was playing with her, though the malevolence in those hungry yellow-orange eyes left her with no doubts as to what would happen if she lost this particular game.

  Gwen could feel her fingers start to cramp from the effort of holding up the rock, and she quickly scouted around for another. Within moments she located another fist-sized rock a few paces away. But how to get it?

  She could heave this one at the wolf, then run and pick up the next. It was her only chance. She knew her fingers weren’t capable of clinging to this one for much longer.

  Reaching her decision, she brought her arm around and heaved the rock forward at the wolf with everything she had, breath exploding from her lungs in what would have been a tremendous groan of effort if she were capable of making a sound. As soon as the rock left her fingertips, she turned and bolted towards her next projectile.

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see the thing easily leaping to one side to avoid the large stone. As its paws touched the ground, and with an tremendously roar of triumph mixed with excitement, the thing flew towards her once more, quicker than she’d imagined possible.

  Gwen leaped forward, landing in a crouch beside her rock so she could reach down to grab it, her left arm raised behind her in a gesture of warding. As her trembling fingers wrapped around the rock and pulled it from the earth, she spun around in time to see the wolf, not five feet away. It sprang forward at her, its jaws wide.

  Swinging her projectile side-arm while leaping backwards, Gwen loosed her rock, and knew she’d missed the moment she let it fly.

  A part of her brain screamed at her, and she noticed she’d lowered her jacket-wrapped arm too far, and wouldn’t be able to bring it up in time

  Thwip!

  A broken howl of agony filled Gwen’s world for a moment. There was a second whispered thwip sound, and the deafening howl was instantly cut off.

  The dire wolf crashed upon its side, the thing’s momentum carrying it forward and knocking Gwen’s legs out from under her. The world spun, and she fell directly atop the wolf’s massive shoulder.

  Panic coursed through her as she rolled away from the huge beast, struggling to right herself, her breath coming in gasps. Once on her feet, she managed to stumble two steps away before falling once more to the grass, her hand reaching for something — anything — that she might use as a weapon.

  Gwen rolled over onto her back, throwing her arms up in a vain attempt to stave off the beast, already knowing she was too late… that it was looming over her, its muzzle mere inches away from her.

  It wasn’t.

  Sun, clouds, and azure sky. A bird casually flying by. Aside from a faint ringing in her ears, the only sound she could hear was that of her own ragged breathing.

  She hastily propped herself up on her elbows and looked past her boots to the scene that lay beyond.

  The enormous wolf lay a few feet away, unmoving. Two arrows with identical fletching were buried in its side, one near the base of the thing’s skull, the other in its chest, just under its outstretched foreleg. Its eyes stared vacantly at her, mouth still open enough to display most of its terrifyingly large teeth.

  Gwen blinked at it a few times, slowly rising to her feet. Then she looked around the rest of the meadow, and saw Prince Gavin.

  Though she had to shield her eyes from the sun and could barely even make him out, she knew it was him. He was a little ways up the trail and standing up in his horse’s stirrups, holding a bow with an arrow at the ready, facing the open meadow.

  The two of them did nothing but stare at each other from across the field for several moments.

  Then, calmly, Gavin wordlessly relaxed his bowstring and tucked his arrow somewhere on the other side of his saddle.

  That done, he turned his horse in order to face her a little more fully. Still standing up in his stirrups, holding one hand to his waist and the other out to the side, he bowed low to her.

  A second later, in a way that couldn’t have been coincidence, his horse seemed to bow as well, lowering its head to the grass and bending a foreleg.

  Even amid the rapid, terror-induced beating it was already doing, she could feel her heart give an extra-loud thump.

  She stood there a moment, awkwardly, her knees still trembling. Then, she returned his gesture with a very exaggerated and thankful curtsey of her own, hoping that it conveyed some small measure of the gratitude she felt.

  When she rose, she watched Gavin sit back in his saddle and stow his bow. Though she couldn’t make out his facial expression, his actions had an air of satisfaction about them.

  Then again, maybe he deserved to feel some satisfaction. He’d made not one but two amazingly good shots with his bow, and in rapid succession! On horseback, and with a fast-moving dire wolf as a target no less.

  And yet, what of that disastrous hunting trip he’d been on with her father? If he were capable of making shots like this, then surely he would have made similarly impressive shots while riding with Bryn, which meant—

  Sudden understanding caused Gwen’s heart to melt the tiniest bit, and her eyes to well up.

  An expert archer, one capable of downing a savage beast with precision and ease, but who was unable or unwilling to kill a deer, or a swan, or any other non-threatening woodland dweller. One who went so far as to be a terrible shot on purpose, spoiling her father’s opportunities and scaring the animals off so they might live another day. This beautiful, perfect man....

  A man of conscience.

  And they were alone now, finally! There was nobody out here but the two of them!

  Both of Gavin’s arrows were still firmly lodged in the side of the dead wolf, sticking up into the air. They looked to Gwen to be very well made — he’d be down to retrieve them shortly, she knew. It’d be just her and him. Finally, a chance to do something!

  Neither of them moved, and simply stayed where they were, regarding one another from a distance — he astride his horse, and she beside the dire wolf he’d just killed, which lay on the ground a few feet away from her. The wind brushed the short green grass of the meadow playfully as Gwen stood there, waiting. Moments stretched themselves into minutes.

  Then, inexplicably, Prince Gavin turned his horse completely around and slowly rode back towards the trail, away from the meadow. Before long his horse broke into a trot, and both horse and rider crested a hill and were gone from view.

  Puzzled, Gwen simply stared after him.

  What was he doing? Why wasn’t he coming do
wn there to make sure she was okay? For that matter, why wouldn’t he come to retrieve his arrows? At the very least, wouldn’t he come over to offer her a ride back to the castle? Surely he could see she was horseless!

  Why would he simply turn around and leave like that?

  A breeze brushed up against her bare shoulder, causing her to shiver slightly. Still puzzling over Gavin’s actions, Gwen attempted to fold her arms to her chest to warm herself, and in so doing she realized her riding jacket was still wrapped around her left arm, which—

  Oh.

  Gwen suddenly felt like she knew exactly why he hadn’t come over.

  At the time, taking her jacket off had been one of those life-or-death decisions, a survival instinct. Now, Gwen was painfully aware of just how clingy her simple undershirt had become. The thin material had plastered itself against her like a second skin.

  Having saved her, he was now politely excusing himself for the sake of her modesty. In addition to everything else, Prince Gavin was a gentleman.

  Giving the terrifyingly huge beast one final glance, Gwen turned and ran across the meadow toward the last spot she’d seen the prince. She unwrapped the jacket from her arm, throwing it over her shoulders and hurriedly slipping her arms through the sleeves as she ran.

  Her knees still felt weak from her ordeal, and she stumbled often, but she forced herself to maintain the breakneck pace. She had to get him alone… had to find a way to bring him back to the stables, where she could get some paper or a book to write on. She’d take a rock and scratch the truth about herself right into the stable walls if she had to. And if her geis wouldn’t allow that, well, she’d write words of encouragement, tell him to follow his heart, something. Anything!

  As she ran, she noticed a trace of wolf-spittle on the arm of her jacket, and she tried not to shudder.

  He’d saved her from that monster. Forced to marry a princess he didn’t love, he was still brave and good-hearted enough to save her, despite the fact his own unhappiness was guaranteed as a result.