Vita Lovato did not wish to get married. She was also wearing her best dress, had a rose in her hand and was standing at one side of a pond at nearly midnight.
Stars knew how she'd let things come so far— and just as she thought this, the clouds shifted and the stars were bared. They twinkled, and a whoop of joy went up.
"Let's get started!" one of the groom's brothers cried from the other side of the small pond. There was a murmur of assent. "What's holding them up?" an aunt questioned.
On her side, her mother nudged her elbow. "Go on, what's holding you?" She was feigning annoyance, Vita knew. There was a smile plastered on her face and she'd been laughing, merry as a drunkard, as well as a little drunk in truth, for the last hour or so.
Vita took a step forward. Cheers went up behind her. She took another, bringing her to the edge of the pond. One more step and she found herself on the makeshift bridge joining the two sides. It was the trunk of a beech cut longitudinally in half, the flat side facing up. "He chopped it himself," her mother had said to her earlier, a tilt to her tone that was rather girlish, the sort mothers use when they were teasing their daughters about matters of affection.
Nevertheless, Vita had to admit that it was nice of the young mister to go to such trouble on her account. If it had been anyone else they would've let her cross the pond upon a whole log of beech, not caring to chop it through to maximize surface area. "He wants you to cross safely," was Gretel's suggestion, accompanied by a whole lot of giggling.
Vita doubted that. Most likely the man was desperate to be married and didn't want his bride to be disqualified by falling into the water. Or perhaps he didn't have faith in Vita's balance. Hm.
Vita took a deep breath and began to walk. Her steps were brisk. Once, she came close to losing her balance and had to hitch up her skirts a little and slow down to complete her journey. The spectators, who had been waiting with bated breath since she started crossing the 'bridge', erupted in cheers. Before her stood her groom, surrounded by his family and friends. He wore a mask, carved from wood and adorned by swirling flowers of red paint. Even through the mask, Vita could tell he was grinning.
"Kiss the rose!" someone cried. A woman wept. Children giggled. An owl hooted. Vita glanced back across the pond lit by starlight but no moonlight, and tried to smile at her father, mother and brothers. They smiled back. She straightened herself. She gave a short bow to her groom. It was reciprocated. She closed her eyes, brought the rose to her lips and kissed it.
The people clapped. The owl fell silent.
Then, the dogs growled. Shouts went up.
"Where did these come from? Where's the kennelmaster?"
"Haven't they been fed? Why are they making those sounds?"
To the owl overhead, it must have looked like a curious scene indeed. On the grounds of Abarka Castle, in the middle of a patch of woods was a small clearing around a pond and circling that clearing were a pack of dogs. They growled and grunted at the stunned humans, who tried to scare away the beasts by waving oil lamps in their faces and failed. The dogs growled louder and dove further into the crowd. Then, just as a child began to cry, they attacked.
Screams went up, most tried to flee, one or two fell into the pond, and in the middle of that mayhem stood a bride in flowing pink, a rose pressed to her red lips and the stars shining upon her dark face. Her eyes were so brown the whites were invisible.
She dropped the rose into the water behind herself and tied up her hair behind her back. Her groom was nowhere to be seen but in his place stood a small boy, face covered in tears and snot and his thumb in his mouth. Vita stepped closer, knelt down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hopefully the poor child who had clearly been abandoned in the commotion, could still get a blessing out of this sham of a wedding.
She tied up her skirts around her calves to get them out of the way. Then she began to run.