Her heart lurched into her throat. What would she do? She was stranded. Wet snow clung to her clothing. She shook her skirts, brushing the snow off, but already it was soaking through and wetting her legs. And her feet. The cold immediately seeped through the thin little dancing shoes Lady Magdalen had given her the night before.
She had no fur to keep her warm. She was probably about a half hour’s walk from the castle, and she suspected there was nothing but forest for miles in the other direction, so she turned around and started walking back to the castle. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, ignoring the cold, wet snow biting into her feet.
Lady Fronicka obviously wanted Avelina to die out here in the cold. And suddenly she remembered what Fronicka had said on the balcony. She wanted to marry Lord Thornbeck because she wanted Thornbeck Castle. She would have killed the margrave had he married her. She believed it rightfully belonged to her father, and they wanted it.
She needed to get back and warn Lord Thornbeck.
But that did not explain why she still wanted to kill Avelina. Obviously, the margrave could not marry her now, so it wasn’t out of jealousy. It must be pure vindictiveness.
She quickened her pace, walking as fast as she could up the hill. The rocks hurt her feet, but she walked faster, and soon her feet were too numb to feel much pain.
Suddenly a howl, then another and another split the dark forest and sent a shiver across her shoulders. Wolves. White-hot fear stabbed through her middle.
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.”