Author's Note: I felt like making a short, stupid little story with a predictable and pointless plot. Here it is.
*****
Her husband was angry.
And she was so upset.
He'd said these things. "What do you mean you can't find it?! Why can't you support me?! What kind of wife are you?! Can't even find one stupid thing?!"
So very upset, and so cold.
"I don't want anything to do with you!! You can walk home!!"
He'd literally dragged her out of the wagon and thrown her onto the hard, frigid dirt road. Whenever she tried to get up, he'd only shove her back down. The last push had her hurting her foot a bit. That gave him enough time to get back in the wagon and direct the horse onward.
Reaching out, the woman screamed and faltered a few steps ahead, but she couldn't catch up. The wagon was hauled away.
Cerisa collapsed on the road as disbelief soaked through her body. Snow began to fall, dusting her fur-lined, hooded cloak.
He'd change his mind eventually. That's how he was. He was the most inconsistent person she'd ever known. Once, he was so angry that he told her to pack up her things go to the closest brothel, since that all she was good for, according to him. Cerisa had been so angry that she assumed life in a brothel would be better than dealing with her husband. So she obediently gathered her luggage and headed for their home's door. Her husband blocked her and said she wasn't going anywhere.
"You just told me to go!" she'd blurted out.
"I know," he'd said with an almost defeated tone, his body oddly off-kilter, his breath reeking of alcohol, "but come to bed. It's late."
One night, he'd cheerfully offered her a slice of rare spicy cake, and he said it was all for her. So, Cerisa thanked him and ate it. The next morning, he denied he'd ever offered the cake to her, and he screamed at her because he'd wanted to eat it.
Trembling in the cold, Cerisa thought to herself that her husband would change his mind and collect her soon. It would be best not to go far. She limped on over to a tree, which wasn't much of a distance since there were trees on both sides of the road, and she leaned against the bark.
Rotating her ankle, working out the mild pain, Cerisa wondered if her pride, stubbornness, and anger could make freezing to death more bearable. After all, her husband would return, and she thought she might refuse him. How dare he abandon her over a stupid, petty thing that he'd lost?! How dare he even blame her for not being able to find the thing?! Whenever he did come back, she'd probably look up at his apologetic face and spit.
Her shoulders drooped.
Maybe she wouldn't do that, but she did want to vent her feelings ... somehow.
Wouldn't it be horrifying if a gang of bandits came after her?!
And it would be all his fault, too.
When he returned, Cerisa would tell him that. Bandits could come and do all the bad things they'd normally do. It would be an example to show how shameful, how pathetic, how pointless he was as a man. To actually leave his wife so vulnerable!
A few minutes more, and Cerisa's mind gave in. She hated this cold. She wanted to go home. She wanted her husband to hug her and say everything was fine.
But something happened, tossing all those thoughts out of her mind and replacing them with confused panic.
It was so quick that she didn't know what was happening at first.
An iron-like force swooped down in a flash, curling around her waist and dragging her away from the tree. Even through her cloak, her pale blue traveling gown, and her chemise, she felt a scraping against the bark.
Of course, Cerisa hollered and flailed. As she was carried off, she was able to notice some details, although her hysteria kept her from taking very much in.
The bare trees whizzing by. The distant sound of running water, likely from a river. Heavy footsteps beneath her. Her body wriggling against something dense and furry.
As for what was pinning her against the furry thing, that was something else, but it was also furry. And white.
It was ... an arm?!
No.
They didn't truly exist, did they?!
Whether they did or not, Cerisa wasn't about to soften up. She kicked and scratched, even though her gloves likely dulled whatever effect her short fingernails would have.
Panting breaths, they didn't belong to her. They were above her, and she felt it in the body she was held against. She smelled the fur, a bit of saliva, and an odd musk.
The creature holding her seemed to slow down when they were close to a peculiar pile of rocks and boulders that was under a tree with thick branches. Or rather, the pile seemed peculiar to Cerisa. As the creature approached the pile, a second arm reached for one of the larger rocks. Cerisa saw what seemed to be a hand, fingers and thumb and all, only it was furry with black padding on the palm and black claws where fingernails should be. The creature gripped the rock and pushed it aside, making a heavy noise as it swept snow away.
A tunnel?
It was so dark!
Her captor pulled the rock back in place once they were inside that tunnel, leaving a crack that a small animal would be able to push through, a sliver of daylight.
At this point, Cerisa was exhausted, and her throat was painfully hoarse. She knew she was weak. She wished it wasn't so.
The dirt floor ... it was sloping down!!
At the end of the tunnel, which seemed fairly long to Cerisa, there was a large, round room that was clearly underground. There were very simple torch lamps close to the walls, as if the owner of this den was afraid of accidentally knocking the fire into something. And so, the center was a bit dim in comparison. Cerisa was still able to see what was there, however.
A very large pallet of various animal furs. There were even tightly rolled bits of fur tied closed. They'd make lovely pillows. Also, a small frame displaying various tools and weapons, a canvas bag with straps, and several clay pots with lids.
It was significantly warmer under the ground than above.
But Cerisa was still trembling.
And her throat seemed to constrict.
She coughed and gasped.
Cerisa's body was lowered, and the arm let her slide down to the pallet. Immediately, she crawled off all the furs and went to the nearest wall. She spun around and pressed her back against that wall, hacking and desperately trying to produce some saliva.
Her dark brown eyes widened as she took in her captor's appearance.
It was exactly as she'd feared.
A Wolf Man.
Tall, the white fur turning almost golden in the firelight, a menacing thing. It was heavy and thick but there was still the vaguely inverted triangle of a shape in the body. Long legs with inhuman feet and black claws. The head was mostly shaped like a wolf's ... mostly ... perhaps a bit shorter in the muzzle. He certainly had pointed ears.
The eyes ... they seemed amber colored, almost glowing.
And he was staring at her.
But then he blinked.
And he walked away from her. He had a tail, a long fluffy tail that was wagging a little.
Why wasn't he pouncing and eating chunks of her flesh?!
The Wolf Man's claws scraped against the tightly packed dirt floor as he went over to the canvas bag. He didn't tear the bag apart, as Cerisa had first assumed he might do. He unbuckled the flap of a lid as any human would, and then he rummaged through the thing. He pulled out a round leather flask. It looked so small in his grasp.
He stepped back towards her.
