Vengeance
Vengeance
She sits alone in her room, awaiting news she does not want to
hear. The fire burns warm and bright in the hearth, but she feels the chill.
Watching out the small window, she sees the men approaching in the distance.
They are alone, and her heart breaks. Rushing down the steps, she meets
them in the library, asking them what news they have brought. The men,
unable to look her in the face, they avert their eyes to the floor. Again
she asks, "What news have you of the whereabouts of my husband?" "My lady,"
the leader answers softly, "we found only his horse, and his sword." Tears
form in her eyes as she whispers, "Then he is dead?" The leader once again,
quietly answers her question. "The wolves, My Lady, he had not a chance."
He raises his eyes from the floor to look at the lovely face as it crumbles
in untold anguish. "My lady, I am so sorry. I truly wanted to at least
bring you his body for a proper burial." Her face grows dark, "Thank you,
you may go now." He begins to argue, but knows that it is not his place.
The men bow and walk out the large doors, to the front of the house, and
out into the courtyard. Night falls, she sits staring at her husband's
sword in her hands, her tears falling freely down her face. She rises from
the chair, taking the sword, and a dagger, she walks out the great front
doors, through the courtyard and into the stable. Working quickly and quietly,
she takes a fast strong horse, and rides into the woods. Hours pass, she
rides on, her face a cold mask of rage and hatred. She feels herself being
followed. She slows the horse to a walk, and listens, as she nears the
creek, she hears the first sounds. Breaking branches, and soft growls from
behind her. Bringing the steed to a halt, she begins to dismount, when
the first of the pack appears frightening the horse into rearing and throwing
the tiny woman to the ground. As she struggles to stand, she sees that
the beasts are already taking turns in attacking the horse, she cries out,
"No! Here, ya bloody bastards!" The wolves startled, turn to face her.
She stands, brandishing the sword, the dagger in it's sheath at her side,
the horse bolts, and some give chase, but a few remain to face her. The
largest snarls low in it's throat, she snarl back, daring it to come closer.
As the creature begins to move, she lets loose a mighty war cry, and runs
headlong against it, skewering the howling beast with the sword. The other's
cry out and leap at her. She twists and turns, the wolves ripping at her
flesh, but she feels nothing, she is lost in her own blind fury. The blade
slashes and tears at the beasts until finally there are none left to fight.
She hacks at the necks until she is left with six heads. She tears off
part of her skirt already torn in battle, and uses it to carry the heads.
She starts walking back towards the house, she walks all the rest of the
night, tired and bleeding profusely. Her only thought to return home, where
she might sleep and heal. She knows that the damage to her body is extensive,
but refuses to think of it as she walks. Finally, she sees her home, but
feeling to tired to wallk she collapses on the ground. The sun peeks over
the hills, and the peasants awaken to the frantic searching and calling
for their Lady. They all join in the search, until finally, the leader
of the search party from the day before, comes trudging back from the feilds,
carrying their Lady, who lies limp in his arms. Another man behind him
carries the blood soaked skirt containing the heads. He stands in the center
of the courtyard, tears streaming down his rugged and dirty face, his voice
a mere whisper, "Our Lady has killed the wolves, but she is no more."
