Chapter Five — Red
Beyond the well was a cabin, made with wood on stone. Though the planks were dark with age, they were well maintained; mud and clay also reinforced the boards, and there were shutters closed over the windows. The woman marched up the stairs; the chain dragging behind her before she dropped it to open the door.
If his legs weren’t so useless, this would be a good time to run.
However, as that was not the case, he was a good boy, following behind her.
She slammed her left axe hand on the wooden rail of the porch, grunting as she lifted a leg and pressed her boot against it for leverage. The stump released from the steel glove with a wet plop and she scoffed, looking at the moldy bandages covering the limb. She turned her head to face him, as if waiting for a remark, “Come in.”
He glanced at the flared blade sticking out of the wood, noticing that the rail had multiple deep-set notches in it. He bowed his head and followed her inside, his eyes downcast.
“Strip.”
The door closed behind him and he tensed, hearing that command. Tristan gulped and nodded, taking off his tattered shirt before grunting as a ball of fur hit his chest. He stepped back, hissing as he pivoted on his left ankle.
Her eyes were to the side, gazing at the cast-iron fireplace, “Your clothes should be burned. Strip, then wrap yourself.”
“… I would get someone’s name before going nude.”
Her lips curled into a smirk again and she snorted, “In 30 days, I’m going to cut off your head. You don’t need to know my name.”
He flinched, noting that he would escape before that happens. Once he did, he would be better off forgetting this insane and stunning woman. He dragged off his pants, kicking them towards the door before he snuggled himself into the furs.
“Sit.”
She was treating him like a dog already with these one word commands.
Tristan glanced around before noticing her right hand extended out, pointing to one chair next to her. His hands pressing the furs closer to himself as he shuffled to the chair, the few feet he limped feeling like miles. He sat down and tensed up even more when she knelt in front of him, lifting his left leg and setting it on a stump nearby, “Can… Can I call you… something?”
She didn’t lift her head, looking at the vicious holes left from sharp fangs, “Do what you like.”
He pursed his lips, a flush on his cheeks as she studied him. The more he looked at her, the more entranced he became, “Red.”
She laughed, the rumbling deep and soothing. “Creative.”
He cracked the tiniest of smiles, “It suits you.”
She tilted her head with a slight grin, “You are infected.”
His heart dropped, and his smile vanished. Why did she have to be so blunt? “What?”
“The wolf bit you. You are infected.”
Wolf?
That monster was NO wolf.
His eyes went wide, and he stared at his ankle, “That-that thing… how… how can I be infected?! That creature was not a wolf! It was a monster!”
Her grin remained, and it was making him sick, “Yes, it was. It was a monster in the shape of a giant wolf.” She stood up, walking to a cabinet near the kitchen. A basket of bandages in hand, she walked back, “Thanks to you, I killed it.” Her left shoulder twitched, “After so long…”
“But why do you say I’m infected?! How could I be?!”
“It bit you.” She knelt back down before him, wrapping a long bandage around the gruesome bite, using her teeth to tighten it, “Its drool digs into the flesh and infects the blood, defiling it so it no longer is that of a man.” She spoke with authority, not mincing her words as they sent chills into his bones, “The plague lays dormant… until the full moon.”
The next full moon is in 30 days…
His jaw fell open, water leaking from his reddening eyes.
“In 30 days, you will die.”
