She found no pleasure in his embrace, not the faintest ember of it.
She eventually curled up on the bed, laughing brokenly at herself and the emptiness inside her chest. He must have taken this for honest contentment because he fell into a happy and peaceful slumber even though she lay mangled at his side.
The windows were frosted a ghostly white, and she approached the glass, tracing different shapes with her fingers. Outside, she could see nothing. Not the stars, not the trees, just the ghastly snow.
Again, there came a sound, a scratching, and she frowned.
A wolf howled right by the window.
Judith turned her head, ready to wake up Nathaniel, but something stilled her. She thought she heard a humming she recognized. Was the stranger outside too?
The sound moved, the howl repeating itself, but now it was a little farther away; it drifted until she thought the wolf was at the door.
She moved toward the entrance, the cold nipping at her body as she pressed her ear against the door.
Judith stood still and listened again.
The howl rose, making the wooden boards beneath the soles of her feet vibrate.
She stared at Nathaniel, who slept still, bewitched or simply exhausted. The rifle was by the entrance, but she did not bother grabbing it. She yanked the door open. The wind battered her skin; flakes fluttered and tangled in her black hair.
In walked a liquid darkness with teeth that gleamed white as the snow—a darkness that possessed quicksilver eyes, resembling the edge of a knife. A few candles bent and sputtered, as if fleeing the enormous creature, whose claws clacked against the floor.
For a second, she thought to raise her voice in a shrill, stupid scream, rousing the hunter.
But the darkness grinned at her, a grin as hard as ice, composed of a multitude of jagged teeth that could snap bones with a single bite.
She recognized him now.
She’d always known her lover would come from beyond the forest.
Gently she closed the door behind him and showed him the bed where a warm meal might be had.