The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(54)

Avelina forced her shaking legs to run. She ran along the side of the road until she tripped over a fallen tree, hidden in the snow. She pushed herself up and kept moving. Her skirts were wet and clinging to her legs, but she held them up the best she could and continued running.

Would she make it to the castle before the wolves reached her? She still could not even see the castle. How close were the wolves? If she screamed, would anyone hear her? But she would have to slow down to catch her breath enough to scream. She kept running.

Some movement to her left made her turn her head. A wolf was trotting through the trees alongside her, about forty feet away. A second wolf trotted just behind him.

She looked about for something she could use as a weapon, but everything was covered with snow. Up ahead on the road were some limbs their horses had stumbled over earlier. She ran, glancing back and forth between the limb ahead of her and the wolf beside her. Was he getting closer?

She reached down and snatched up a limb that was just small enough to get her hand around. Thankfully, it was not too long or unwieldy. She had been told that a wolf would sometimes not attack if you faced him and refused to flee, and since she could never outrun a wolf, she stopped and turned toward him, trying to draw in a deep enough breath to scream.

A third and fourth wolf appeared a few feet away from the first one. They all kept their eyes on her, their ears erect. They stalked toward her as a fifth wolf appeared from the edge of the trees.

She forced a deep breath into her burning lungs and screamed. It didn’t sound very loud. She tried again. The screams seemed to have no effect on the wolves at all. She held up her stick, panting, her chest heaving. Fear seemed to be strangling her, stifling her breathing worse than running had.

The wolves stopped too. They spread out in a semicircle around her. Their terrifying eyes and mouths seemed to be laughing at her, hating her with vicious intent.

“Get away!” Avelina screamed. “Get away!” She shook the stick at them, but they just kept watching her.

The wolves started moving closer, very slowly. The closest one suddenly bared its long, pointed teeth and growled.

“Get away!” Avelina screamed, a deep, throaty sound. She could not let them know how terrified she was. She raised her stick over her head, yelled, and took a step toward them. The wolves stopped and eyed her, but they did not retreat.

“Get out of here! Go!” She shook the stick, but the wolves started moving toward her again.

Should she run toward the castle? If she did, they would chase her. If she ran toward them, they would probably attack her. All her life she’d heard stories of wolf attacks, of people being killed. The only time someone escaped was when they had help from other people, or had a weapon like a sword or bow and arrow. How could she possibly escape a pack of five wolves? God, help me. Please, help me.

She backed away up the road, holding her stick in front of her. The wolves came toward her, twice as fast as she was moving. Now two of them were baring their teeth. Some movement in the trees showed there was a sixth wolf.

She moved slower, and still the wolves stalked closer. “O Father God, if You don’t do something to save me . . . Jesus help me, please save me.” She began speaking randomly, not even knowing what she was saying, to keep herself from sobbing. “Jesus . . . holy saints . . . Save me, holy God,” she rambled, her voice growing more and more high-pitched. “Spirit of the living God, save me . . . save me.”

Still the wolves stalked closer. She turned and yelled at the wolf behind her, raising her stick, but when she turned back around, the wolves had stalked closer, so close she could see the yellowish color of their eyes.

Suddenly something tugged at her skirt. She screamed and struggled to turn around, slamming the stick against the wolf’s head. The wolf grabbed the stick in its mouth, snarling. She tugged but could not pull it free.

A second wolf moved stealthily forward. It bared its teeth and growled. The wolf let out a bone-chilling snarl. Then he suddenly sprang at her, its eyes locked on her neck.

She let go of the stick and lifted her arm, crouching at the last moment. The wolf sailed by her shoulder, but its claws raked her forearm as he passed.

The pain in her arm barely reached her consciousness. She was surrounded on every side. All six wolves were closing in, their movements as smooth and flowing as a river, snarling and baring their fangs, their hungry yellow eyes trained on her.

This was the end. There was no mercy in their wolfish faces. She had no weapon with which to fight them. Still, she shook her skirts at them, then clapped her hands and yelled, which turned into a scream. They simply continued to stare and move ever so slowly toward her.

Terror gripped her tighter, turning her blood to ice. She shook so hard she could barely stand upright. Would she die of the cold before the wolves decided to kill her? Soon they would go for her throat again, and then her blood would spill on the snow.

Perhaps this was for the best. After all, she had no future. Everyone would hate her now. She had failed. But who would look after her father and little sister and brother? O God, You know. Provide for them.

The wolf near her feet snarled and lunged forward. It sank its teeth into her ankle.

Avelina screamed in fear and pain. The animal held her fast in its jaws.

The animal to her left, the wolf that had already leapt for her throat, suddenly crouched, preparing for a second leap.

Horse’s hooves sounded behind her. The wolf kept its eyes on her, but its ears flattened back against its head.