Chapter 2

“Where have you been?” A voice questions from behind following the caving of a shadow that temporarily shades River from the glaring sun.

“Mathilde has been searching for you since morning.”

River finishes scrubbing her hands clean in the bucket filled with ice water, then cups a handful splashing it over her face in an attempt at cooling the rose that shakes in her blood, and shadows her cheeks. “I was washing the linens.” She lies smoothly, avoiding the girl’s stern stare.

“Is it an emergency?” In truthfulness, River’s heart still tumbles, body juddering at the inability to rid herself of the intimacy image.

The girl shifts to her side as they pick a path back towards the village, “Not really, it’s regarding tonight.”

River licks her teeth thoughtfully, squinting up ahead as a group of children rush past them, wooden swords clashing playfully, “What of tonight?”

“Lilith will be telling the story,” the girl remarks mildly. Thin dark billows of clouds string from the near distance, moments later the familiar curve of thatched roofs and dried brick chimneys form. Their village comes to view within a heartbeat. “Will you be done with chores by then?”

River hums in nonchalance, mentally checking over the numerous chores bestowed on her that day. Despite the cool autumn weather, her mistress needed the linens washed and draped, the kitchen scrubbed clean and two chickens slaughtered for the feast at night.

The blood moon practice was a ritual celebrated every six months, bi-annually. A festival in praise to the gods who had spared them yet another year of peace and prosperity, away from the wretched clutches of beasts that roam beyond the borders.

They had not been caught despite the growing tensions as villages burned to ashes and mortals slaughtered, leaving behind no trace of life in their wake. No one had survived the attacks and no one would for the commander that led the beasts was known to be callous, unemotional, apathetic and cold as moonlight.

No one knew of his name nor origin. He simply was.

Only a few, a scarce handful that survived to tell the tale of destruction could recall the man’s physique. Even then, terror had struck their hearts and minds, rendering them mute, useless, dead.

River scarcely worried over the attacks for they seemed so far away. Before she would have moments of suffocating anxiety whilst lying wide awake in the absolute dark, listening to the wind howling- straining to hear the wolf beyond.

Sometimes she thought she would hear it - a howl so low, almost drowned out by the moaning wind, and other times she simply shrugged it off as a trick of the ear.

Yet as time went on, worries of wolves and beasts carefully tucked itself into the cranny of her mind as she had other situations to bicker and stress over. They were safe.

Their leader had trained the best of warriors; both men and boys, who patrolled their borders night and day, and among those boys stood one that drew her attention. Adriel. Tall, lanky, sure-footed yet witty Adriel. A mop of dark curls and beguiling pristine blue eyes that smiled into hers from across the field.

Watching the couple that made love beneath the drooping willow tree, River could not help but place herself in that position. Adriel above her. His calloused warm hands skimming the length of her legs and thighs, his wet hot mouth praising the skin on her neck. He would see her scars like those of beauty, her dark unruly hair as something magical and bright. And he would whisper his promising delights whilst slowly thrusting into her, filling her with his whole being --