Then the Adelwolf lost his temper. Taking her by the hand, he dragged the struggling girl to the water tap. He scrubbed the ring with soap and held the finger under cold water, but the ring wouldn’t move.
The Adelwolf changed tactics. Taking the sobbing Ulrike in his arms, he sat on a wooden stool and rocked her gently. “Forgive me, Ulrike. I lost my composure because I wanted to try the magic ring so badly. I have my own secret power as well. I can change any other person’s state of mind—but only if they have your ring on their finger.”
After this the Adelwolf made Ulrike a curious proposal. “What if we lived together? With your ring and my magical powers, we could eventually rule the world. We could make everyone want what we want them to want. Every person in the world would be under our control!” The Adelwolf stroked Ulrike’s back, which was damp with sweat, and kissed her earlobe. “Please take the night to consider my offer, Ulrike. We can discuss it more in the morning. I’ll make you toast, marmalade, and scrambled eggs for breakfast.”
Suddenly the Adelwolf nipped Ulrike’s ear so hard that she yelped in pain. “I’ve made a place for you in the bed next to me,” he growled. “The pillows and blankets are pure down. I promise that you’ll sleep more sweetly than ever in your life!”
Ulrike’s ring was a blinding yellow as she lay down next to the Adelwolf. It glowed so yellow that neither could sleep, even though the bed was softer than any other bed in the world. It was as if the sun had set in the bed between them, a burning disk of fire whose cruel light hurt them both equally.
“Adelwolf,” Ulrike whispered once the blanket was soaked through with sweat and the pillows were waterlogged under their damp hair. “Should I go sleep outside? Perhaps the ring will calm down and then we can both finally get some rest.”
To this day no one knows what got into the Adelwolf at that point. Had he lied to Ulrike of Salzburg from the beginning when he suggested working together? Or had the radiating yellow light of the ring exhausted him and he suddenly changed his mind? Perhaps he was worried about the possibility of the girl escaping if he let her outside to sleep alone.
The Adelwolf rose to his knees in the bed and let out a deep, low snarl. With his great hairy paws he took Ulrike by the neck and began to squeeze. At the same time he pushed her legs apart with his knees and pushed in where he had no right to be. The ring had known from the beginning: the whole time it had been red, yellow, black . . . red, black . . .
Whose hand is that?
Where are we now?
Ulrike, where are you?
I can’t see anything.
Hands. And a girl under the hands. Shlomith, Polina, and Ulrike float in a position from which it is impossible to determine location, direction, or even orientation; only one hand is visible, so close that it’s barely recognizable as a hand: four, thick fingers squeezing, on one a gold ring, also thick, worn, and dull.
No, not Hanno.
That isn’t the hand of a young man.
That hand is doing evil.
That hand is strangling a neck.
It isn’t hard to guess.
No.
And that is exactly what happens. The hands conduct their brutal work because the girl happened to be there, on the forest road, a little drunk, a little lost.
The hands, but not just the hands.
The knees also do evil, keeping the girl’s legs spread wide to make it easier to get inside, to make it easier to ram in the member that is stiff for once, since for once there is something living and beautiful underneath, something so bloody beautiful it hurts.
The girl didn’t conceal anything. She walked the forest road in her yellow bra, black shirt wrapped around her hair in a turban. She didn’t even flinch when he drove up in his big rig, rolled down the passenger window, and yelled, “Are you hot?”
It was as if the girl spread her breasts even wider, enjoying the warmth and the attention, as if she coquettishly shouted back, “Yeah, I am a bit hot!”
He decided to take a chance. He cast the girl a wink and said, “I’ve got air conditioning in here. You want a ride?” He was certain she’d refuse. But instead she said, “Sure, why not! Can I take a nap? You have a bed in the back, right? I’m tired.”
The girl quickly scrambled into the cab. “You’ve ridden in a truck before, haven’t you,” the man asked, trying to dispel his own confusion. “Yeah,” the girl said and sat down in the passenger seat. Pushed up by her bra, her small breasts glistened with sweat.
Suddenly she leaned forward. Her navel disappeared in the folds of her bare belly, and her shoulders almost touched the fan. The girl undid her turban, and wet, dark hair cascaded down her back in loose curls. Then she shook her head in front of the fan as if using a blow drier. “Where are you hauling that wood?” she asked. “Why is this forest being chopped down?”
That was enough. The girl was there, and everything was ready. Her back was pretty and white. The lace bra made an indecent yellow arc in her narrow back.
“Hey, what the FUCK are you doing?!”
The man quickly removed his hand. The girl was hot, so hot! Her body sprang upright, her belly flattened, and her hair followed the arcing motion. Then the girl pulled on her wrinkled T-shirt and began to crawl into the rear of the cab. “Let me sleep for a minute,” the girl whispered and nestled under the blanket. In his truck.
The crazy girl really was
