Taken by the Berserkers

1 The wolf stood in the center of the woodland path, lingering as if waiting for me. At first I didn’t see the giant creature, mottled in shadow, with fur so black it looked almost blue. Once I did, I froze, clutching my baskets as if they could shield me. I could drop my wares and run, but if a predator of this size chased me, I was doomed. After a good, hard glare in my direction, it slipped away, leaving me shaking with relief. If I was wise, I’d return to the market and ask one of the villagers to escort me through the dangerous woods. Any one of the strapping young farm boys would be happy to see me home--my long, honey- blonde hair drew them like bees to nectar--but I preferred to make my way alone. My sisters and I lived at the end of the village, and I could be there before dark if no more wolves blocked my path. A rustling in the brush told me there were more predators lurking, waiting for easy prey this close to dusk. I quickened my step and called to my sister Muriel as I drew close to our hut. She met me on the stoop. “Good market?” I unslung my burden and handed her the empty baskets. “Enough to buy meat.” “Oh, Sabine, you didn’t,” Muriel said. “We have plenty from this month’s offering.” I grunted, bending to enter the hut. I hadn’t bought meat, even though I wanted to, because of the gift left on our doorstep, the gift we’d received each month since my sister Brenna had disappeared. “How much do we have left?” I asked, waiting in the doorway until my eyes adjusted to the dank and smoke-filled space. Muriel moved by the fire, sorting the baskets and hanging up the bundles of leftover herbs. “A whole hank. It was deer this time.” Some months the meat was boar, or a slew of rabbits. It varied but it was always enough to fill our bellies for days, more if we salted and dried it. “I don’t know why you don’t like it.” “I’m grateful for the gift.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. At one time, I believed the secret of Brenna’s disappearance was tied to the gift of the meat. I’d waited up all night once, to try and catch the giver. Eventually, I’d fallen asleep. Just before dawn, I woke to the sound of a snapping twig. There on the ground, so close my foot could touch it, was a great boar carcass. The hunter had left it as I slept. It took all three of us to drag the beast to the firepit, and we carved it and ate on it for weeks. I never waited up to catch the the hunter again. Muriel’s voice shook me from my thoughts.“You don’t have to eat it, you know. Fleur and I will eat our fair share, and give the rest away.” “Fleur should not be eating meat at all if she’s still feeling ill. Just broth, and a little bit of oatcake.” Youngest by a few minutes, the smaller twin took sick often. This evening, she huddled in a pile of blankets that made our bed in the corner of the hut. I put away the herbs as Muriel pestered me with questions. “Who was at market? Did the priest bother you?” “Nothing happened out of the ordinary. I saw a black wolf on the path coming home.” “An evil omen.” I shrugged. “No animal is truly evil. And wolves are often harbingers of good.” “Why didn’t you ask one of the men from the village to walk you home? You know you could have any one of them.” I gave her a sharp look. Muriel, the eldest twin, looked far too knowing for her sixteen years. “The men of the village are fools.” “Then how are you to marry one of them?” “I won’t. I will never marry. Love is foolish. It weakens the mind.” “What about us, then? I want to fall in love,” Fleur asked in a weak voice. I forced a smile for my two sisters. “And so you shall. You and Muriel will find your true love; I will make sure of it.” I made my voice low and strong, mesmerizing as I wove the tale. “Strong men who will build you a house from the giant trees in the deep forest. They will carve your bed from a living tree and every child you bear will live.” “You don’t want one then? A man?” I bit my tongue against my true thoughts. Men were fools, too much trouble to handle. Half the time they acted like children, the other half raging brutes. I’d watched my mother fall for one who beat her and tried to grope my sister, who bore it silently, protecting us until she disappeared. My stepfather had been mauled by a beast soon after Brenna went missing. I’d laughed when I found his body. “One man? I would never be satisfied. Perhaps two, if they were as brilliant as they were beautiful.” “Two men? At the same time?” Fleur wrinkled her nose. “Why not?” I teased. “I can send them out together, to hunt and grunt and burp. I’ll make them ask to be let back in my home.” Fleur laughed, but Muriel stayed quiet. When I puttered around the fire, she cornered me and spoke in a low voice. “Only a few nights until full moon. Are you going to the grove?” “Perhaps.” My sister sucked in a breath. “Be careful.” Instead of answering, I stooped and checked the unwanted meat. It came to our door fresh from the kill, bloody, as if ripped from the animal’s body. Muriel roasted it with rosemary and other spices, and the smell made my mouth water. Scowling, I sliced some off for my supper. At first I’d refused to eat the meat, as if rejecting the gift would bring my sister back. My mother had called me a fool. “Your sister Brenna is dead,” she had told me. “You have two younger sisters to care for. Any food is welcome.” I waited until my mother lay on her deathbed to tell her what I knew in my heart--somewhere, somehow, Brenna lived. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. My mother had sighed. “Fey. Like your grandmother. She had a magic of the earth. It told her things; she knew they were true but could not explain why.” My mother had clutched my hand with her wasted one. “Be careful, Sabine. Your grandmother’s knowledge didn’t save her when they burned her on a pyre.” “Sabine, did you hear me?” Muriel asked, bending her head close to mine so Fleur could not hear. “There’s a dangerous beast about. It may be the wolf you saw. Father Benton went out one night for vespers and found all his goats slaughtered.” Last time Father Benton had spoken to me, he accused me of dallying with the devil. “How awful. The poor goats.” Muriel frowned at me. Dark-haired with grey eyes, she was growing into a beauty, but she had just as much wit, when her sweetness didn’t stop her from using it. I kept her home as much as I could to keep the village men from noticing her. Some men were worse than wolves. “I’ll be careful, Muriel. You know as well as I, I need to go.” Tight-lipped, Muriel studied me for a moment before nodding. She understood. I waited until she and Fleur had fallen asleep before slipping out of the hut in search of solitude. Once a month, the heat came upon me. A curse from the goddess, my mother called it, though she didn’t seem to suffer from it as intensely as I did. In my youth I would give in to the lust and find a man to sate the ache between my legs, but in the past few months I’d gone away alone, into the forest away from the village. The desire in me wasn’t satisfied by a simple roll in the hay, it hungered for a man’s strong arms, a tryst in a wild, secret place. The moon rose and found me waist deep in the forest pool, wiping water on my fevered skin. I hummed a little as I swam. I’d just left the pool and pulled on my gunna when I looked across the stream into the golden eyes of the wolf. My skirts tumbled into the water. Foolish girl. I could hear my mother saying. Out so late, alone. Slowly, I took a step back. The wolf stayed where it was. Another step, and another, and it seemed the beast would let me go. Muttering prayers to the goddess, I crept back the way I came. I made it to the edge of the grove when I felt a wind at my back, a powerful pulse that sent shivers up my spine. Not daring to look back, I picked up my skirts and ran. The lights of the hut danced in front of me. I burst onto the main path only to have strong arms like iron bands wrap around me. My attacker pulled me backwards as I writhed and kicked. A hand slapped over my mouth. Panic choked in my throat. My legs thrashed the air as he dragged me back into the woods. No, no, came my muffled shrieks as the trees crowded my vision. I lost sight of my family’s hut. A few more steps and the light from the candle in the window disappeared in the gloom. I kicked back at him as hard as I could, hoping to do some damage. The hand collaring my neck squeezed in warning. “Sabine,” the deep voice growled my name, and I went still with shock. “Be still.” “Please,” I tried to beg, and when I couldn’t get the word out, my arms and legs flailed in panic. The hand at my throat tightened, cutting off my scream. After few more kicks, the world receded and all went dark.