Claire
Cassandra hadn't returned that night, and coincidentally, when I returned home, Peter was missing as well. It had crossed my mind that perhaps the two had met up somewhere else to do their thing, but when I found his room empty and his bed cold the next morning, a small feeling of worry began to gnaw in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't uncommon for Peter to be missing for large quantities of hours at a time—he often went on hunting trips with those rowdy friends of his—but this was long, even for him. So, slipping a cloak over my shoulders, I left my home and headed straight for the little house at the edge of the woods. Cassandra's house.
I knocked only once, and the door immediately swung open. Mrs. Anne stood in the doorway, a frenzied look on her face.
"Is Cassandra with you?" she demanded.
The gnawing in my stomach grew stronger. "She's not home?" I said.
But Mrs. Anne didn't respond, instead turning away and disappearing into her house, leaving the front door wide open. "She's not with Claire, Florence. Cassandra is missing."
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and followed Mrs. Anne into the kitchen. Cassandra's family sat around a table, each with a different level of concern etched on their face. Andra's youngest siblings didn't have a clue what was going on and squirmed in their seats, itching to return to their play.
"Maybe she's just out for a stroll," Sam said.
"Yeah," Arnold chimed in. "You know she's always loved the woods."
It seemed that her older brothers were just as unconcerned.
Mrs. Anne shook her head. "You know she would never leave without telling me."
"She's getting older, Linda," Mr. Anne said, peeking over the top of his book. "Cassandra is leading her own life now and that involves leaving her parents out of certain decisions she chooses to make."
"Decisions?" Mrs. Anne said, outraged. "What sort of decisions would she be making that she wouldn't tell her own mother about?"
"Well," I said slowly as all eyes turned to me, "last night, she and Peter were supposed to have dinner together at my house."
"She went out? Past curfew? And to have dinner with that troublesome boy? No offense to you, Claire. You are such a dear child."
I smiled. "None taken." But the smile faded soon after. "We were here together, last night, I mean. I was dressing her up for her date, but then she… left." Do I dare tell them about how Cassandra ran off into the night with a wolf, enemy number one? I'd sound insane and the chances of them believing me were slimmer than a splinter. And not only that, but Cassandra trusted that I would keep her secret. I'd be a terrible friend if I let it slip out, but what if Cassandra was in danger?
"How could she have slipped out without any of us catching her?" Mrs. Anne continued. "None of this is making any sense."
"She went out the window," I said.
"The window? Cassandra went out the window?" Mrs. Anne sat down heavily in her seat, resting a hand on her forehead. "Really makes you wonder how many times she's done this before."
Sam glanced at the door and frowned before getting up to leave. No one paid him any mind.
"What about your brother?" Mr. Anne said. "You said they were together?"
"I don't actually know if they met up. Peter wasn't home when I got back, but Cassandra had left on her own accord much, much earlier."
"And Peter, is he home?"
I shook my head. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."
A gasp flew out of Mrs. Anne's mouth. "You don't think that…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "That Peter might've done something to her, do you?"
"No way," I exclaimed. "I'll admit. Peter can be a little eccentric at times, but he would never hurt anyone. Let alone Cassandra."
"Then where is my girl?"
At that point, I knew I had to tell them. I had to tell them about Lune. I opened my mouth to respond when the door flew open, Sam standing in the entrance. He looked directly at me. "Your brother is here."
Everyone shot up and raced outside. A crowd had gathered around Peter, and I had to fight my way through just to get to him. He stood in the center, panting. His arms were littered with little cuts and nicks, and leaves and twigs were nestled in his hair. What happened last night?
"I saw it. I saw it!" Peter cried.
"Ey, boy," one of the townsmen said, "what're you gathering a crowd for?"
"The beast. It attacked me in the woods last night."
"The one eatin' all our cattle?" another man asked.
"Yes, it was huge and grizzly," Peter announced to the crowd. "And it had teeth sharper than knives and eyes that glowed like an angry fire."
I frowned, nibbling a bit on my lower lip. Sure, Lune was dangerous—any wild animal ought to be considered dangerous—but she was nothing like how Peter described. Why was he lying?
Mrs. Anne burst through the people. "What about Cassandra?" she asked, desperation brimming in her eyes. "Was Cassandra with you?"
Peter saw her in the crowd, and his face fell. "I had my shotgun with me, but the beast moved so fast—I was afraid I would miss and hit her instead. It got her, Mrs. Anne. I'm so sorry."
She let out a long, anguished wail, and I felt my own heart crack and splinter. Cassandra was dead. She was really dead, killed by the beast she naively believed was her friend. I felt a guilt so powerful it nearly swept me off my feet. If only I had fought harder, pushed for her to stay rather than leave with that monster. She could have been here with me and her family and Peter. She could have been alive. A tear slipped down my face. I should have been a better friend.
Peter turned back to the crowd. "There's more beasts in the woods. I know because they joined the first wolf in tearing Cassandra from limb to limb." Mrs. Anne fell to her knees with a sob as the village murmured uneasily. "We can't let this massacre continue," Peter continued. "First they slaughter our chattel, and now they kill one of us. What's stopping them from killing our whole town? We have to stop them."
Words of agreement rippled through the crowd, but there were equally as many words of uncertainty.
"That girl's death is sad and all, but what if we're just provoking them further?" a woman asked. "I mean you two were frolicking in their territory anyways. Maybe if you two hadn't been so careless, nobody would've died."
Her blunt statement brought a series of conflicting emotions with her. While it was one thing to say leave the wolves alone, it was a whole other saying it was Cassandra and Peter's fault. How could she be so arrogant?
"You won't be sayin' that when it's your own children getting eaten by the wolves." another woman muttered.
"I wouldn't let my child roam about at night."
I saw Mrs. Anne shudder—her guilt was probably ten times as worse as mine.
"Say what you will," Peter said, "but I'm forming a hunting party. We'll stop these beasts from killing anymore of us." He lifted a fist in the air. "Who's with me?" A few men and women let out a cheer, but many remained indecisive. Peter shook his head. "You'll see. When the cattle are gone and your children killed in bed, you'll see, and then you'll change your mind."
Mr. Anne led Mrs. Anne back home as she wailed, and the crowd dispersed, but a few young teens lingered. Arnold and Sam were two of them.
"You'll join me?" Peter asked.
Sam nodded solemnly. "One bastard killed our sister," he said, "and I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to kill the rest of the assholes."
"Cool, cool." Peter shifted from one leg to another, but then he finally took notice of me. "Oh, Claire."
"Do Mother and Father know you're safe yet?" I asked.
"I don't know," he replied. "Did you see them in the crowd?"
"Why are you still hunting them?"
He tilted his head. "Were you not listening? They killed Cassandra. Do you want others to die?"
"No, no, but is this really the best way to go about this? I mean, what if—"
"I want to avenge Cassandra, Claire. This is how I do it."
"What if you get killed, Peter?" I said. "Then what do I do?"
"That won't happen. Not with him around." Peter nodded at a man walking toward us.
Dressed in dark leather and combat boots, the man looked to be about the same age as Peter, though much more mature. A dark look shrouded his face, and it seemed as if he had never smiled before in his life. He had a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder and a belt of daggers hung around his waist. This man appeared more dangerous than any other beast in those woods.
Peter greeted the man with a warm smile, putting an arm around his shoulder and pulling him over. "This is Robert," he announced. "Former soldier in the King's army. He'll be helping us track down the beasts."
Robert let his gaze travel across each of his new party members before finally settling on me. "She's partaking in the hunt?" he asked. A single scar traced the length of his face, and I squirmed under his eye. I couldn't help but wonder what did that to him.
"Oh, not at all," Peter reassured. "She's just my sister." He glanced at me. "Run along now, Claire. And tell Mother and Father I'm safe, but that I also won't be home for some time. We aren't returning until these woods have been purged of all evil."
I nodded and scurried home, but just before they were out of sight, I glanced briefly over my shoulder. Something told me they would find the lines between good and evil too blurred to distinguish either and should that happen, they may end up killing the entire wood.