Part 3
Red stared at the two youths struggling to straighten collars, refasten buttons, and restore order to their disheveled clothes. She recalled seeing the burly young man with the curly dark hair up at the
pasture with Burch only this morning. What were they doing here--during a celebration, of all things?
"Why don't you watch where you're
going?" growled the man. "We'd like a little privacy, if
you don't mind! Be on your way!"
Red detected something in the edges of
his voice, and she studied him closely. Did he not realize who she
was? Just how much "privacy" did they think they would have
in an open alleyway where anyone might choose to walk?
"Marc!" Henny murmured,
tugging on his sleeve, "Let's just go..."
A warm, heady scent wafted off of the
two young people, and Red grew keenly aware of the sheen across their
faces. Everything pointed to a highly probable (if very indecent!) reason for their presence here--and one that she'd smelled before. Her hackles rose. She had always avoided that reek when it reached her in previous visits to Queston, but today she decided she would not tolerate it any longer. Privacy,
indeed!
Red glared at Henny, who had just finished restoring the last button.
"So this is
the tailoring business you've been spending all your time at, while
your mother,
bless her soul, is working herself to the bone so that you might be
able to make something of yourself!" Such long hours at the miliners', she said--oh, poor Deborah! If she knew the truth!
Marc's face twisted into a scowl, and
he stepped forward. "Now see here--"
"What I do is my own business,
thank you!" Henny piped up, lifting her copper-brown eyes
defiantly to meet Red's gaze. "You don't know anything about how
hard I work, nor how much Marc cares for me!"
"Cares
for you?" Red grabbed the man by
the arm and shoved him aside, not quite throwing him, but hard enough
to separate the two. "If you think that, girl, then you're
fooling yourself. I can tell just by looking
at him that he means you no goodwill!"
Marc tried to interfere, but Red
arrested him with an upraised hand.
Henny, meanwhile, gave a harsh laugh.
"Oh my! What sharp eyes you have, to see such horrible flaws in
people!"
Red didn't break eye contact with the
defiant maiden. "All the better to see through a predator's
lies, my dear," she quipped.
"Who are you calling predator?"
Marc retorted, reaching for Henny's hand again. "Don't listen to
her, Hen. You know me better than anyone, I will always--"
Red grabbed him by the arm, and this
time, she didn't bother holding back her strength. He grazed the side
of the building and tumbled into the stack of crates. "Spare her
the deception, you dog. This is not the first daughter of Queston
you've tried on in the last few years, anymore than you're her first
'trim on the side'!"
"How dare you!" Henny
squealed, but Red kept going, pointing at the two of them, on either
side of her.
"Don't think I don't know
everything that goes on in these trees! What would Burch say if he
knew--"
Marc arose with clenched fists. "I
don't see how it's any of your business!" He planted his feet,
crouching into a fighting stance.
Red faced him, folding her arms. "Everything
to do with Queston is my business!" She declared, standing aloof before his threatening posture. "So what did
you promise her this time? A tiny flock, a quiet home, faraway in
some other valley where you will only have yourselves to look after?"
The events of that morning returned to her mind in perfect detail:
the specks she found on the wool of some lambs, but not others--most
likely paint or ink, and not a coincidence. In fact, now that
she thought of it, the herd did seem to shrink every time the white
wolf struck, even when there was no sign of an attack at all. "How
many of the village lambs have you already marked for yourself,
poacher? Too bad that wolf killed the bellwether this morning, or you
would have been able to abscond with half the flock before anyone
no--"
The heavy fist launched toward her face
while she was still talking. Red ducked a little to late, so the blow
aiming for the center of her head caught her in the cheek, knocking
her backward.
Henny screamed,
"Don't hurt her!"
"That's enough, meddling shrew!"
Marc snarled, standing over the red-caped woman. "You might have
the whole of Queston eating out of your flea-bitten hands, but I'm
nobody's fool! I'm getting what the old man owes me!"
Red braced herself with her hand and
pushed back onto her feet. She wiped the trickle of blood off her lip
with the back of her palm. "If you think that, then you're the
biggest fool of them all!"
Outside, in the square, the band struck
up and people raised a cheer for the long-awaited arrival of
Schoolmaster Remani. The noise out there covered the sounds of the
scuffle from the alley.
Red pushed off with her legs and
launched her body right at Marc's center of gravity, slamming him
into the building. He threw another punch, but she dodged it and sent
him a blow of her own, catching him full in the side. He grabbed her
hood and yanked it off her head, but that only exposed her infuriated
face. She pivoted back, reaching along his arm with hers and yanking forward while Marc's hand was still caught in the hood. He tripped and stumbled as his shoulder wrenched back with the momentum. Roaring in frustration, he came back around to charge at her. Back and forth they wrestled, Marc having the advantage of height and
weight, but Red able to evade him thanks to wolf-like reflexes and a
cunning knowledge of the most vulnerable areas to hit.
Henny crouched behind a large crate, shaking and blubbering. Red had
shed her cloak, for the sake of the valuable jar in her pocket. She
focused on evading Marc's blows and wearing him down with small,
close hits while he flailed angrily. After one stiff jab to the face, he went down into a crouch. Red's instincts fired just before she saw the short silver blade in his hand as he stood again. No longer able to focus on his movements, Red followed the blade instead, dodging away from a feint she interpreted as a lunge. This mistake left her shoulder exposed to the blade.
Red roared with the pain as blood
spread from under the knife, staining the tear in her sleeve. She wrenched Marc's forearm again. He released the weapon with a cry, but it had done its job already. She couldn't shove him hard enough to throw him off-balance.
“Ha!”
Marc grunted. “The fabled super-wolf bleeds
like
an animal, too! Guess you aren’t as all-powerful as--”
With
a snarl, Red reached over and pulled the blade out with her opposite
hand, gritting her teeth and grabbing the hilt in her injured hand.
She howled with rage as she sprang toward the man, slamming her good
arm against
his throat. In two quick movements she slashed the side of his leg,
and shoved the silver blade straight in, perilously close to his
side--but it only caught his shirt and bit deep into the wooden
siding behind him.
He squirmed and gurgled as she pressed on his windpipe, but he
couldn't move.
Red scowled at him
and spoke slowly, through bared teeth. "Get. Off. My. Mountain.
If I ever see your tracks around here again, if I so much as smell
your stench on a westerly wind, I will personally hunt you down and
then we will see how you stand against a real
wolf!" She stepped back and picked
up her cloak, tying it around her shoulders with one hand as she let
her wounded arm hang still by her side.
Marc gasped and coughed as he recovered
from the chokehold, and it took most of his strength to rip his shirt
away from the blade--and yet the knife itself remained, sticking there with a
piece of his shirt hanging from it. He nearly turned back to Henny, but the furious Wolf still stood there, staring at him with murder on a hair-trigger in her eyes. He thought better of it and backed away, the cool breeze whispering like fear against his exposed side.
Red didn't tear her eyes away as
Marc stumbled off into the hills, away from Queston. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire,
but Red knew there was one more matter of business to attend to.
She turned to the quivering, sniveling
girl still huddled behind the crate. "And as for you, Hepsibah
Moriah Garrity--"
Henny sprang out of hiding at the sound
of her full name. She couldn't even stand upright, but she groveled
at Red's feet, reaching for her hand.
She pled, with tears running down her
face, "Oh, please don't hurt me! And don't tell mother--I'll do
anything you want me to!"
Red put her good
hand on her hip and snorted. "Seems to me you are entirely too
eager to do things for other people, when they don't require too much
effort from you!" She shook her head and held out her hand,
helping the young girl to her feet. "As a matter of fact,
Henny," she continued, "this is what I want you to do: you
will walk straight back into the dressmaker's shop. You will
apologize to Bethany, and you will do everything she asks. When you
are finished there, you will go straight home and apologize also to
your mother--and you will do whatever she
asks of you, and give her the rest she
deserves. This will be your life for the rest of the year, and I had
better not see you anywhere but exactly where you ought to be..."
Henny's eyes widened and her mouth
dropped open as Red listed the requirements. She cringed as Red
delivered her ultimatum. "Or what? Are you going to hunt me down
like you threatened to do to Marc?"
Red gave a thin,
firm smile. "No; I'll simply tell your mother and
your employer exactly what kind of
'tailoring' business you've been running behind their backs this
whole time."
Henny gasped and
clapped both hands to her cheeks. "You wouldn't--you
cannot--Oh!"
She pulled a pouting frown and stamped her foot. "What big teeth
you have, you savage wolf!"
Red grinned, showing
all her teeth, adding special weight to her words as she replied,
"All the better to deal with anything and anyone that would
threaten the safety of this village... my
dear." She said this last in a
deep, rumbling growl.
Henny scurried out of the alley as fast
as she could go.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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