Thenshe did scream, hands tangled in her hair, and the sound had the edgesof a wolf’s howl to it. She doubled over as the beast cried out. Wolfwould break free and tear them all to pieces, she could do it—
“Girl. . .” Cox said warningly.
“Let’sbe off, shall we?” Brandon said, brushing grass off his neat trousers.“We’ll leave you to it.”
Thepair of them walked away while she crouched, gasping, struggling tokeep hold of herself. At last, after a minute or so of breathing asslow as she could, the beast stilled and she was able to look out withhuman eyes and take stock.
Themen left the knife and candle on the hill for her.
Sincetaking them would feel like putting herself in their debt, she didn’t.The knife stayed unclaimed and the candle burned out.
Fivemore days passed. She could feel the full moon before it rose, sensethe coming light against her eyes, the tug against her gut. Thecreature within began scratching, pain on the inside of her ribs as ifthey formed a cage it could break free of. Nothing could stop what wasabout to happen to her. This was the true punishment. The Lord ofWolves, all the wolf packs, offered protection. That was the pact somany of them made. Submit and be safe. Know your place and keep to it,and those in power will shelter you. She had thrown it all away andhadn’t regretted it a whit until this moment.
Shewondered which of the wolves on this island would find her first, thenrape and kill her.
Refusingthe tears that threatened, she carefully undressed, folding and settingaside skirt, petticoat, bodice, shift. She couldn’t afford to rip themduring her transformation; she had no others. That she would return towear these clothes again was an article of faith. She must believe itwould be so. She was strong, her beast was stronger. Together theywould survive. They’d made it this far.
Shemarked her territory, small as it was, again and again and again.
Sheand her beast had had nights on the moor that were glorious. Miles ofspace, no one to answer to, she could run and run and run, as free asshe’d ever been, wind in her fur, dew on her tongue. Her first monthsas the beast were difficult, as her skin ripped apart and her bonesbroke and reknitted and her own mind felt otherworldly. But the rewardhad been those nights of freedom.
Ithadn’t lasted. The Lord of Wolves, his dukes and henchmen, had wantedher. England wasn’t big enough for them all to run free, they told her.She must submit to one of them, any of them. Instead she fought, andfought, and fought. And now here was where fighting had got her.
Themoon rose, her human body stretched and broke, and her long, despairinghowls joined the others on the Island of Beasts, their song remindingher that the other wolves were here, they knew whereshe was, they could find her. She ought to be silent, she ought to hide—
Buther beast was furious and so screamed out, Come findme if you dare, I am strong, I am monstrous!
Asmuggler of whisky rowed his boat past the island that night, and heardsuch a cacophony of wailing and moaning that he knew the stories thatthe ghosts of every sailor and fisherman ever lost at sea had washed upon that desolate rock must be true. He dug into his cargo and threw abottle of his best into the waves as an offering and didn’t stoppraying until the shadow of the island was out of sight, and itsterrible howling gone quiet.
Sheawoke naked in her den, tangled in her skirt, and safe. She must havesnuggled into the fabric and used it as a bed. It smelled like home.The whole place did, which was why her wolf had come back here. She’dbeen able to come back here.
Shenever remembered much from the nights of running as a wolf. Images andfeelings. The taste of blood on her tongue—so she’d been able to hunt.Her full belly told her she’d eaten. Her wolf had slept contented.Looking herself over, again and again, disbelieving—she hadn’t beendamaged. No one had touched her.
Afterputting on her shift and skirt—she couldn’t be bothered to lace up herbodice or even put back her hair—she walked on the beach. Closed hereyes and breathed in the sea air. Smiled for the first time in weeks.She had survived. Somehow, she was still standing, and it felt glorious.
Aglint in the surf caught her eye. A glass bottle shoved up on the sand,sliding back on the wave, then rolling up again. Splashing barefoot inthe water, she grabbed it up, studied it. It was a full and sealedbottle of whisky. A blessing on her morning. She might not have much,but oh, this was a thing to bargain with.
Shehiked back to her den to hide it away until she decided what to do withit. Found Brandon and Cox there at the same place, halfway up thehill. Waiting for her.
Theylooked like wolf men after the night of a full moon always looked, withshadowed eyes and unkempt beards. Even Brandon hadn’t shaved in acouple of days and had scruff on his cheeks. His waistcoat wasunbuttoned, his collar open. Cox squinted in the sun, frowning in herdirection, if not directly at her, and crossed his arms.
Howevermuch she wanted to turn and run, fast as her two legs could carryher—or better, let her wolf loose, she could run so much faster on fourlegs—she stood her ground. They didn’t seem angry. Their gazes turnedaway. Seemingly bored, Brandon scuffed his shoe in the grass. Cox wentbarefoot.
Brandonfinally smiled. “Good morning, there. Did you have a good run? Can’tsay you look particularly well rested, but then who can, after such anight?”
Shelooked frightful, her hair in a tangle down her back, her shift andskirt wrinkled and stained after so many days. And found she didn’tcare. This was the Island of Beasts. Propriety was a secondaryconsideration. They regarded her exactly the same as they had before.She was a wolf woman after the night of a full moon, and that was fine.
“Ihad a .
