Chapter 8 - •Eight•

Heading North, a pack of silver wolves ran hard and fast. The leader was a mighty black wolf with one ear sliced about an inch and a jagged scar from his left shoulder to his hip from attack a few years back. In the middle of the wolf pack was a sleigh carved out of the strongest wood. On that sleigh laid a woman with her eyes closed. Her body was secured thanks to the high walls accommodated to the sleigh and blankets that wrapped her tightly in warmth while the breeze turned colder with every league they traveled. The black wolf along with a few others, had a rope tied to them to pull the sleigh along. After so long, the black wolf would let the wolves rest while he checked on the woman, nuzzling her cheek with a wet nose and a soft whine. She didn't move, and if it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest, she could have been pronounced dead.

It took the wolves twice as long as usual to reach their destination, since they had an extra load. After four days of nothing but forest trees and frost, they set foot in the wide expanse of snow-covered dessert. For as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but white anywhere you looked. The wolves howled in delight at the sight and set off again, a little more spirit in their bodies, for they were home.

On that night, the black wolf checked on the woman in the sleigh again and found her lips blue and her skin ice cold. He growled in anger and proceeded to jump into the confined space and lay on top of her, warm air coming from his nose as the heat in his body enveloped her. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes. An almost invisible movement of her head towards his would have indicated to the wolf how she loved his warmth.

The next morning, the black wolf woke to find feminine hands grasping his fur in desperation to keep warm. His eyes lit up with joy and he nudged her gently, whining in her ear. But she did not wake. Her hands, however, would not let go when he tried to move. No matter he had another wolf bring three extra blankets for her and that they covered her sleigh with another to keep out the harsh wind, she clung to him.

The black wolf lied down again and seemed to tell the wolves to just start pulling. If she let go, he'd get out, but in the meantime, he might as well enjoy the thought of being her blanket and heat. He was always careful not to crush her with his weight, seemed to make sure every part of her delicate body was safely under him and in blankets. He was alert when she finally relaxed, and her hands let go of his fur to lay flat between his body and hers.

By mid-afternoon, the black wolf was able to leap out to start running again, regretfully leaving the woman alone. He silently promised himself to lay with her again that night and keep her warm. The wolves ran on towards their destination, ice forming and melting on their fur. Their paws hitting silently on the hard snow as the sun hid behind dark clouds.

The black wolf glared up at the sky, then ahead. If they didn't hurry, they would be in the middle of a storm with nowhere to shelter the woman. He knew the wolves were fine and could withstand the harsh blows of wind and ice, but the woman would last long. He growled at the others, and they ran as fast as they could towards the horizon where trees could be seen.

Leagues away, in a place where struggle was known to all, a kingdom was dying of plague. Children cried for their mothers to take the pain in their body away. Women held back tears of despair and agony as they tried to remain strong for their young ones, while men did all the hard labor and cooking. Nothing they could do helped their loved ones. They only prayed their King would return and save them. They only hoped he brought back something that would bring life back into their homes.

One woman waited anxiously for her King sitting at a window and looking out at the dreary day. Behind her, two infants and three other children lay dead, skin turning blue and cracked. In another room of the house lay a man, gasping for breath as he choked on his own blood that didn't seem to stop coming up every time he coughed. The woman ignored them all.

"Please!" the man gasped. "Please, kill me now!"

The woman smiled and turned to him. Her black eyes luminous off the candlelight. "Hush, husband. If you are alive by the time the King returns, then you will be back to normal like nothing had ever happened."

"B-but I can't take it!" he cried, clutching his stomach. "It hurts!"

"Of course, it does, silly!" she chirped. "You're sick. Being sick never is pleasurable. If it were, there would be no need to cure it."

"B-bi- "

"Now, now," she scolded softly like she was talking to a child. "No foul language is allowed in this house. Not while I'm here. Not while the children are in the other room."

Her smile was venomously sweet, and the man could only stare in horror at what he used to call wife, at what he used to call his love. This wasn't the same person anymore. This wasn't the person who brought their children into this world and nursed them day and night. This wasn't anyone he would have fallen for. This was a monster if ever he saw one.

With his final breath, the man saw the woman transform into a shimmering white wolf. She walked over to one of the children and sank her teeth into their stomach, eating the pathetic thing like it was a squirrel. With his final breath, he saw blood stain that white coat and a single drop splattered onto the wood at her feet where it dried and became a brownish-red color that no one would suspect for the life source of a child. 

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