She hadn’t been paying attention as they rode. If she had she’d have put up more of a fight, tried to convince him to avoid the woods, to steer clear. She’d been distracted. She was only drawn back out from within herself when she felt the chill of the cold air stinging her lungs, the shadows creeping up the skin of her arms to her shoulders. Morhold had taken them far off the path, into the shadows and darkness of the woods. The hum within her was calling out to the whispers that hid within the gnarled trunks surrounding them.

She spun around swiftly, too fast for him to have time to divert his gaze before she saw he’d been looking not ahead, but over her, towards the swell of flesh creeping out from the tight bodice of her deep blue dress. The cool shiver that had been growing in her bloomed into full on panic. She needed to get out of the woods.

“Where the hell are we going?” She spit at the rider who was guiding them deeper into the shadows and shade.

“Taking a detour.” He looked ahead and not down at her as he answered her. The way he said it was strange, as if trying to sound casual but unsuccessfully. The unease continued to grow within Yesleign. Something was not right.

After a moment they reached a clearing within the woods. Here the trees seemed to have arranged themselves into a circle; the sky completely obscured by the glossy green foliage above. The effect was that of the darkness of night, set within a circle of old, thick trees. The bark on the trees was twisted, swirling in thick black wisps of wood and crimson sap, as though the trees were contorted, bent, bleeding onto the earth. Long ago these trees might have stood proud and tall, reaching gracefully towards the sun. Now they looked as though they’d been distorted, the magic held within the forest had broken them. The ground here was uneven, covered in a tangled network of angular roots and dark moss. She could feel the goosebumps spreading up her arms towards her shoulders. Inside her something stirred, an unsettling pull of something pushing through her veins.

Mordhold dismounted. “Something feels off with the horse's pace. Might be a loose shoe,” he stated, tying the horse to one of the nearby branches.

“Felt fine to me.” She was aiming to sound defiant, trying to not sound as worried as she was.

He grunted, gruffly grabbing her and placing her on the ground. She stepped away from him quickly. As he was examining the horses hooves, something caught her eye. Something moved just beyond the trees of the grove. She turned, certain she’d seen movement. She heard something shifting in the vegetation ahead.

“Did you hear that?” Her voice sounded more scared than she’d meant it to be.

“It’s just an animal or something.”

Carefully climbing over the tangled mess of forest growth, she inched closer to the trees along the far edge of the circle from where they were. The darkness of the forest canopy made it exceptionally hard to tell but it seemed like there was something lurking in the shadows beyond the trees, something large. She heard…something.

“I think we should get out of the woods.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off the trees in front of her. There was something there, she was sure of it. The dark hum inside her pulsed frantically.

“The only thing you have to fear in these woods is me.”

Suddenly a hand behind her grabbed her upper arm. She tried to lurch away. One foot tripped over a jagged tree root, the other slipped on a patch of moist moss. She skidded, then fell.

She didn’t remember hitting her head when she fell, but she registered the splitting pain, stars swirling in the blackness behind her firmly shut eyes as her consciousness slid back into place. The pain was radiating from the back of her head, nausea swam through her in response to the pain. She took a few deep breaths, recentered, taking stock of what was happening. One of Morhold’s hands was clawing at her, ripping at the lacing of her bodice. The other hand was pawing at her skirts, shifting them higher and higher up her legs, past her knees. Angular, bony, strong knees were between her thighs, pushing against them, baring into the soft snowy flesh. A horrible mash of teeth and tongue were assaulting her neck. The hair of his awful beard was scratching the delicate line of her collarbone.

“Get off me!” She managed to choke out.

The splitting ache in her head seared and she almost collapsed back into darkness. She was scared and in pain. She felt small and lost. As she searched within herself for the strength to kick or scream, to fight, she found something in the depths of her. There was something inside her that ached to be acknowledged. As she held onto the feeling of it, it started to grow, to bloom. The vines of dark power begin to spread through her, down her limbs. She opened her eyes.

“Oh you’re awake, pity.” He was breathing heavily. His words were labored as he sucked in air. “This is always easier when the girls are out cold.”

All of a sudden, she felt his finger reach up her inner thigh. The rough and dry scraped skin of his thick fingers plowing into the delicate flesh above her knee. She let out a cry of pain, discomfort and fear. For a moment he stopped, still holding tight to her thigh. He looked down at her.

“If I’d had known you were eager to please I would have attempted this ages ago. I figured you were still a budding rose, but after what I witnessed earlier, I guess you’re in full bloom.”

“And what is it you think you witnessed?” She spat the words at him, desperately kicking out her arms and legs out, trying to break free. She had been training with Tristan for weeks but in this moment she felt completely helpless.

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“Come on Yesleign. A young woman out alone with a handsome young member of the royal family. I know exactly what you were doing.” He sneered at her. “This still might hurt though, I’ve been told I’m exceptionally large.” He was leering down at her, a cold hunger in her eyes. She suddenly grew terrified.

With each pounding beat of her heart, she could feel that dark thing deep within her unfurling further, being pulled deeper into the twisting network of veins underneath the pale surface of her skin. The forest around her seemed to sense what was happening inside her. She could have sworn that the limbs of the trees were stretching closer, the roots twisting inward, the mist was seeping closer, all in unison with the pounding that came from within. Something dark within her was aching to be released, set free, and the forest was reaching out to help it.

“Get off of me,” was all she could manage. The weight of him was crushing her chest, breathing and speaking were difficult. The forest was definitely closing in around them now, so close she thought the trees might reach out and rip him off of her. The darkness within her was calling out to the woods and the shadows seemed to be hearing her. When she looked down, her arms were stained with black, as if ink was running through her veins.

He ignored her request. She clawed at his face, thorns at the end of her fingers slicing through his skin. He paused momentarily, then grabbed both her wrists in one of his massive hands. He pushed her arms above her head, pinning her arms down. All he had to do was look up at her arms and he’d know what she was. Panic gripped her heart. Something behind them in the woods snapped.

He leaned down until his lips were almost touching her ear and whispered to her, “the more you fight this, the more I’m going to relish tearing you apart.”

Something behind his shoulder caught her eye. More like somethings. Eyes, glowing through the darkness and mist. Amber slits piercing through the forest, fixated on her. A low growl reached across the expanse of forest floor towards her ears. Morhold didn't hear, he was too busy, he was back to biting her, pulling at her, pawing at her.

“Clearly all that training with the bastard of the royal family didn’t actually teach you anything. If you ask me, he was just using it as an excuse to get close to you.” His hand trailed further up her thigh. His fingers hooked on to the band of her underwear.

“Remove your hands from her or I will remove your head from your body.”

The cold prick of steel pressed against the skin on the back of his neck was enough to get Morhold to stop. He paused his pursuit, slowly releasing her from his grip.

“To your knees,” Tristan commanded, sword still pointed at the back of Morhold’s massive neck. Tristan’s messy black hair framed his face where cool blue eyes were aflame with anger. There was something in his look, something wild and unsettling. His command came out harsh, rough, almost as a growl.

Morhold was on his knees, anger splayed across his face but it was clear he knew there wasn’t a way out of this. Yesleign crawled and skirted away from the men, back crashing against the rough bark of a nearby tree. Against the strong and sturdy strength of the tree her breathing slowed, the blossoming within retracted. Her wolf and his brother, Remus and Romulus, circled around, placing themselves between the two men and Yesleign. She was grateful.

The flame of anger within Tristan’s eyes weaved down the rest of his face. His jaw was set and teeth clenched. His hand shook with rage. The fingers not holding his sword were curved up into his palm.

“What exactly was your plan here?” Tristan spat the words at the back of Morholds head, never releasing his angry stare from the back of the man’s head. “Were you really going to rape your best friend’s little sister in the wild woods?”

As Morhold stood, arms still raised in submission, she saw a smirk start to spread on his face. He turned his head to face Tristan in order to respond, “you know what they say about the women of the North - wild and fierce, but inside as tender as a flower.” As he said this the flicker of anger in Tristan’s face lit anew. His eyes grew dark, a storm cloud of gray spreading across his irises. “I’ve always been curious what that was like. I thought perhaps this flower hadn’t been plucked from the vine yet and wanted to find out for myself if what they say is true, but perhaps you had the same idea?” With the last words Morhold turned and cocked his eyebrow up at the man who’s steel was still pointed squarely at his throat.

Something flickered in the woods. Two pairs of glowing amber eyes between the trees. She blinked, shook her head. She must have fallen harder than she thought, hit her head against a tree root. The pair of wolf pups were in front of her, their eyes couldn’t be reflecting back at her from within the swirling mist. Something wasn’t right here. She squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed down that which was swelling within her again. When she opened her eyes there was nothing between the trees but empty darkness. Again something within her screamed out - they had to get out of the woods.

She shifted her focus back to the men in front of her. Morhold was on his feet, back pushed up against one of the mangled trunks. Tristan’s sword was balanced steadily at the giant man’s throat.

“Leign, there’s a length of rope in my saddle bag. Grab it,” Tristan said to her without taking his eyes away from the prisoner in front of him.

She carefully placed her hands on the ground beneath her, felt the cool dampness of the moss on the ground. The soft and spongy earth sank between her fingers, feeling as though she was almost falling into the earth below, becoming part of the woods. The feeling was unsettling. She pushed off and stood.

“Here.” She placed the length of rope she’d grabbed from the saddle bag in Tristan’s hand. When their skin touched he squeezed her hand, an attempt at comfort, care. She squeezed back in thanks.

Slowly Tristan lowered his sword slightly. “If you try anything the wolves will rip you limb from limb, and then I will do worse.” He threatened as he sheathed his sword, unwinding the rope in his hands. As he said it brother wolves snarled in unison.

He started wrapping the rope around Morhold’s wrists, but then moved to wrap it around the tree. When the giant of a man realized what was happening, panic and fear spread across his face. However it wasn’t him that spoke.

“Tristan, you can’t leave him tied up here.” Yesleign said softly, trying to cover the horror in her voice.

That cold darkness flashed again in his eyes as he finally turned to look at her. She recoiled back slightly. “He deserves worse than that. I’m not bringing him back with us.” His tone was short, clipped, not open for discussion. The atmosphere within the trees swarmed, the buzzing hum of the woods seemed to swell.

Once the ropes had been wrapped and knots firmly tied Tristan lifted her up onto the saddle of her horse. He swung into the seat behind her, arms wrapped protectively around her. As they departed she stole one last look at Morhold, a look of defiance and anger marked his face but she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of fear in his eyes as they turned and left him.

The further they got away from the clearing the more the cold seemed to melt away. Her breaths came slower and softer, she no longer felt like an animal caught in a trap. She dared a glance down at her arms. They were back to normal. She breathed a small sigh of relief.

Tristan shifted, wrapping the dark wool of his cloak around them both, drawing her in towards him tighter. The further they went the warmer he seemed to grow, a comforting heat enveloping her. Exhausted from fear and cold, she leaned back, head resting comfortably underneath his chin, pressed against his warm and steady figure. She sensed him stiffen with surprise at first, then he relaxed back against her warmth in return. They could go back to hating each other tomorrow.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered softly. They rode the rest of the way back in silence.

Rem and Rom led the path out of the woods, their white bodies slickly skimming through the mess of twisted trees. When they were clear of the shadows and darkness of the woods, Yesleign dared a glance back. She swore she saw two pairs of amber flicker among the trees, something tall and large looming above in the shadows. As she looked, whatever it was, whatever had been watching them from the edge of the trees, turned and retreated into the forest. A moment later a scream split the calm quiet of the air. It was undoubtedly Morhold. The scream was not one of anger or pain, it was a piercing scream of fear. The sound made chills creep up the length of her spine.