Ravenwood(55)

The white wolf darted into the forest for a moment before coming back to Elinore’s side - a steadfast and true companion.

“Where is the black wolf?” Elinore asked. The she-wolf cocked her head at Elinore and stared back, unblinking blue. It was the first time Elinore could remember speaking in her dream. “There are four wolves in all. You. The feral wolf that bit me, the black wolf, and the one in the woods the other day. I hear the feral wolf when I’m awake. I’ve seen the other one in the forest. But I’ve never seen the black one anywhere but here. Where is it?” The white wolf tipped her head in the other direction and Elinore was suddenly compelled to add, “Where is he?”

The white wolf tipped her head back and howled - a beautiful, sonorous sound that resonated deeply in Elinore’s bones. She could pull that sound into her marrow and keep it with her always. Once the she-wolf was done, the howl echoed in the night - the air ringing in its wake. She listened, wishing that she could prick her ears and turn them to hear sounds in all directions.

There was no response to the howl. Silence. Her heart felt heavy.

A pervasive feeling of melancholy rested deeply in her heart when she awoke, carried from her dream into the waking world. The next day passed as many of her days had at Ravenwood although there was a different tension between her and Hayter now. He was already in the dining room when she entered for breakfast and she knew he’d been waiting for her. His fingers lingered too long on her shoulder, as he tucked her chair into the table. Then, his hand decidedly brushed hers as he passed the butter. Only the coffee pot was laid out on the serving table and when Elinore asked one of the staff for some tea, Hayter declared they were out and wouldn’t be receiving some for days.

He made his desire for Elinore to join him on a morning walk clear and decisive, not leaving her room to refuse. Elinore kept her shawl wrapped around her like a shield, though she didn’t need it for protection against the cold. She found she must be getting used to the weather at Ravenwood for it was quite pleasant to her and her shawl was overly warm. But, it was one more layer between herself and Hayter and for that, she would suffer a shawl in the midst of hell itself. Hayter’s conversation was heavily weighted toward himself, his accomplishments and how much Elinore must adore Ravenwood.

After their walk, Elinore excused herself to find Alice, hoping that the young girl would be a deterrent to Hayter’s continued presence. It either worked or he had deemed his wooing for the day complete; he bid her farewell, indicating he looked forward to seeing her at dinner. Relieved, Elinore went searching for Alice, finding herself at the back of the house, where the servants quarters were located. A young boy, who worked in the stables judging by the slightly horsey smell he emitted, directed Elinore to the Thistlewaite’s room where Elinore knocked and felt her heart swell when it was indeed Alice who opened the door.

“Oh! How good to see you!” Alice exclaimed in a low whisper. “Come in, come in.”

Just behind Alice, prone on a bed, looking pale and thin, was Mr. Thistlewaite.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all,” Alice said, keeping her voice quiet. “He’s sleeping now, but I know he’ll be happy to see if you if he wakes.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Sit, sit,” Alice beckoned. Elinore took one of the small, slightly rickety chairs next to Mr. Thistlewaite’s bedside. She felt so much more relaxed in Alice’s presence. Alice pulled out several sketches to show Elinore, her excitement evident in her voice and expression. Her sketches were magnificent with so much detail and so many fine lines. Elinore found herself enraptured - it was as though the charcoal were a sentient thing - spreading across the page, alive. Toward the bottom of the pile, were several drawings of wolves and ravens and Elinore paused over those.

“Have you seen any wolves?” Elinore asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Alice took the pages away from Elinore, fiddling with them as she tried to make the edges align. “Ravenwood has always drawn wolves.”

“And what of the feral one? The one Caleb hunts. The one that bit me.”

Alice swallowed. “I’ve not seen any wolves at Ravenwood that I’m unfamiliar with.”

Elinore turned Alice’s words over in her mind, not quite sure what unsettled her about the answer. Alice quickly changed subjects, talking of their shared endeavor of creating a story with illustration and Elinore did her best to focus on that, and not on the way her mind kept traveling back to the drawings of the wolves and ravens circling the grounds of Ravenwood.

After some time, Mr. Thistlewaite stirred and he was indeed happy to see Elinore, thanking her for retrieving help. Elinore seemed unable to convince him it was merely the right thing to do.

“Well, I’m just glad nothing happened to you, miss,” he said. His voice was so soft Elinore had to lean in close to hear him.

Alice went still beside her and Elinore’s fingers briefly touched the sleeve of her dress where, underneath the fabric, the wolf’s bite marks were no longer bandaged, but still flared dark and sinister looking. “Right as rain, Mr. Thistlewaite.”

His lips quirked a bit. “I told you. Thistle. Everyone calls me Thistle,” he said, repeating his sentiment from the night they met.

“Of course, Thistle. I’m glad to see you making a recovery. I’m sure you’ll be up and about in no time.”