The Look: Alpha Male, Feisty Female Romance (60 page)

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The morning light spilled in from the window of his hut, and his head hurt from the night before. He opened his eyes only after hearing the muffled screams from further in the town. The light sliced through his retinas all the way to the back of his brain. He needed rest, as his body was immensely sore. Lifting up his head, he thought to himself how odd it was that he couldn't recall the night before. Just then, a woman's hand touched his tender shoulder, making him jump.

“Zamir. You have to see this,” his wife said. He forced himself awake and jumped out of bed, rushing out into the daylight, his wife following him after.

“What time of the day is it?” he asked.

“Time of day? You've been sleeping all afternoon. It's near dusk,” she said, grabbing hold of his hand, in the way she only did when something terrible had happened. “Zamir, look to the center square,” she said, pointing to the bloody figure of Joslyn, hung by his arms, across the town. “The men have found a piece of cloth on Joslyn's ax, when he tried to fight the wolf off.”

Zamir grabbed his skull to contain the brain-busting confusion swirling around in his head. Two entirely separate worlds had just collided, as if the gods had been replaced with mere men, and vice versa. A rift opened in the cosmos, and Zamir couldn't distinguish between the dream world from which he thought he'd come and real life. He rushed barefoot over to the town square, picking up Joslyn from the wooden ties on his hands. “My good friend. What have I done?” he asked himself under his breath, just as his wife caught up with him, racing on foot to catch up. Zamir looked around for the cloth, and for the first time in his life, knowing he had killed Joslyn last night, told his wife a lie.

“Who did this?” he asked her. She pulled out a piece of cloth from her pocket, a shred of Zamir's pants which were now missing from his thigh area. He placed his hand directly over his thigh, as he took the cloth from his wife. A crowd of people stood around him, though he didn't look at them directly. Eyes pierced into his soul, examining the growing cancer that started with his first false statement to his people. Their powerful gaze weighed on his back like a ton of iron ore.

“It's him,” a voice said from behind, as Zamir wheeled around to face the same angry male teen who'd reproached him the day before. Zamir's voice grew deep and low.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Zamir said. “Keep quiet if you value your life.” Zamir could tell by the boy's reaction that he was transforming into a werewolf again, this time in broad daylight. He looked back at his wife, as she stood in horror, watching the man she loved transform into a violent, evil, and chaotic beast. His gaze lowered as he fell down onto all four and reared around to the crowd, his eyes glowing green, ready to fight anyone who approached him. Several men emerged from what was now a large crowd and attempted to swipe at him with their swords. Zamir lunged at the sword, grabbing it with his mouth, and tossed it away. Then he crawled slowly toward the man, growling the whole time, as the man stepped back one step at a time, until he was cornered. Several children, now orphans from the Battle against the Obotrites ran up closer to Zamir, watching him come close to eating the man he had cornered. They began crying, and Zamir turned to face them, distracted. The men in the crowd, fearful though they are, could see the impending disaster and approached Zamir, in attempt to scare him off.

“Go now, devil!” one man said, waving a pitchfork near him, as Zamir backed away from the kids and ran off into the night.

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“That was the last time I saw her or my son,” he said. “I never could figure out where the wolf came from, or why the forest chose me,” Zamir said. He looked around the fire, as Humburt, Augustus, and Elsa listened to the close of his tale.

“How did you end up here?” Augustus asked. Zamir looked down, his face lost in thought.

“I came here in search of answers. When my people rejected me, I grew angrier and angrier. The more I asked for their help, on my better days, the most they united against me, even going so far as to form permanent alliance with neighboring tribes, in order to deflect attacks against me. They drove me into the forest, where I live in despair and rage for many centuries. I was never able to return to human form, and the rage that consumed me kept me searching for answers. I left Denmark, traveled through the forest that connected the countries, to stay safe. I couldn't figure out why the forest chose me, once a great leader, to fall so hard and so fast. With my wife and son now long dead and buried, all hope of having a normal life was gone forever. I continued searching through this forest, which, as it turns out, is connected to all the forests near my village in Denmark. That's what sent me to the Cottage, where I found the ability to regain my human form.”

“At what cost?” Kirbleitz finally spoke up. “Tell them, Zamir.”

“The cost was that I would never be able to redeem myself. The Cottage gave me some answers, but infinitely more questions. And I was left with this hideous creature inside me, this shameful part of my nature I could never get away from.”

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After hearing Zamir's story, Elsa found herself simultaneously fearful of the man and more respectful. And there were particular elements of his story that lingered in her mind, as they all prepared to get some sleep before making a long trip the next day. Humburt and Augustus spoke between themselves, forming a two-person club in honor of Zamir, their admiration growing as his story baked in their unconscious for the rest of the night. Kirbleitz was busy consoling Niklas, who still didn't trust Zamir. And Elsa sat on the log at the now smoldering campfire, contemplating all that had happened to her in the last few months--her meeting Theo, falling for him, understanding for the first time emotions she once thought were forbidden. Losing Theo tore a piece of her soul away, but she could see strange parallels between her own history and Zamir's. Both of them found themselves, with no rhyme or reason as to why, in the position of a fallen state. Both Zamir and Elsa felt responsible for their actions, and yet perplexed at how they could have prevented what happened. She had just wanted to save Theo all along, never wanting to hurt anyone or do anything wrong. She thought back to her conversation with Lili, about whether it was possible for someone to undo a grave mistake. Elsa wanted to know the answer to that question--was it possible to ever be good again? Part of her wanted to go back to her life before ever getting embroiled by the people in the Forbidden Forest in this mess. For all the happiness and excitement meeting Theo brought her, the experience was matched in the same magnitude by equal amounts of pain and sadness. She missed Theo dearly and had no idea how she would ever get out of this mess. Maybe she had opened the door in her heart to something dark and sinister, and being near Zamir did nothing but irradiate her further to the point of becoming more like him--wild, lost, and evil. She watched him as he paced a little further down the pathway leading away from their makeshift camp, his beautiful, tanned back outlined by the red light from the glowing forest. Zamir had told the group he was bitten by a wolf, yes, but only in his dream. How then was it possible for him to become a werewolf? He might be lying. He could plan on bringing the entire group to the area that imprisoned him for eternity as a black and evil wolf. Perhaps he would lead them into a furnace, lock the gates behind them, and turn up the heat, laughing the whole time. She wondered how something so beautiful and perfect like Zamir could be so dark and enigmatic, shrouded in questions and fierce temper.

Elsa got up and walked over to her tiny camping spot, crawling underneath a cloth Niklas gave her. “Here you go, miss,” he said, handing her a pillow as well. She lay down her head, the vicious tiredness overtaking her body all at once.

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Her dreams were wild and colorful, being that her proximity to Zamir and subsequently the center of the forest stimulated her imagination more intensely than it ever had been stimulated. Her eyeballs flicked back and forth underneath her eyelids, her body fighting to strike back at the colors playing in the black sky of the forest. She heard a sound in the darkness and opened her eyes suddenly. The camp was quiet, still, save the sound of the crackling but dying fire at her feet. The air was nearly freezing, and Elsa looked down at her bare feet on the ground, the damp forest floor sending prickling sticks along the skin of her feet. Elsa realized in that moment the forest was alive, continually aware of her presence. She thought about the prophecy and whether it truly referred to her. Why would the Forest choose her out of all the people from her village? There were other, stronger, more capable people. If what the other boys said was right, and Zamir as well, there must have been something special about Elsa. But she couldn't figure out what it was for the life of her. She looked around the quiet campfire, at Augustus and Humburt sleeping in the same bag, on the same pillow, at Niklas who lay shivering, no doubt dreaming of getting eaten by Zamir, at Kirbleitz's near motionless body. Then movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and Elsa turned sharply to the edge of the forest. Something white slithered into the forest. A serpent, she thought. She was always afraid of snakes, but there was something particularly terrifying about this one. Then she movement out of her other eye, and turning back, saw another serpent, getting a better look this time. The snake was snow-white in color, with two heads, and it was creeping over Niklas' body.

Elsa ran over to Niklas, attempting to wake him up. “Nik,” she said, trying to whisper so he wouldn't frightened the snake and possibly get bit. He didn't awake. “Niklas!” she said, louder this time. Still no response. She ran over to the edge of the forest, grabbed a long stick, then poked the bottom of Niklas' feet, the snake rolling its body over his torso. Niklas kicked the stick out of Elsa's hand, and she remembered how strong he was despite his size, even comparison to the other boys. The serpent coiled into a white, scaly rope, raising its skull in Elsa's direction, poised to strike. “Shit,” she said. “NIKLAS WAKE UP!” she said, screaming this time. He jolted up from his sleep, his gray eyes wide with fright.

“What is it?” he asked, then saw the serpent not three inches from his face. “Oh shit!” he said, scrambling out of the way, falling back into the still searing fire pit. He screamed in pain, howling even. The serpent remained coiled in striking position, staring at her, its two split heads cutting eyes at her from a canted angle. There was a recognition between the animal and Elsa. She knew the serpent had come to do someone's bidding, and in a brave rush, she ran over to the serpent, angry and furious, willing to risk all she had to get rid of the thing. But the serpent struck her, and the pain was immense. The venom seethed through her veins, pulsed through her pounding heart, and she knew in that moment, she had lost everything. Random images flashed through her mind, projected onto the back of her skull, images from her past, reminding her of Theo, spurring her to remember her own childhood cruelties toward Freja. But then she saw an image not of her past, but of her future, and how she knew this was something no less than magic. Elsa was back in Dorien's cave, rushing underneath the water to avoid his angry fire. Freja got up out of the cave, returning to the village, once she saw that Elsa was gone. Freja walked into the closet at her house, opened up the door to reveal a sleeping Theo. The bitch had him all along, Elsa thought. With a simple tap of the wand to Theo's forehead, he opened his eyes and stood up from the bed on which he had been sleeping. Elsa's anger drowned out her fear, and she vowed to destroy Freja no matter what.

But the images got worse.

Freja's body changed shape when Theo looked at her, and her appearance become something very familiar to Elsa. Freja's face took on Elsa's porcelain complexion. Freja's hips took on Elsa's busty frame, her eyes morphed into the shape of chestnuts, just like Elsa's. Invisible to both of them, Elsa stood in the darkened corner of the room, next to a warped mirror Freja used in the mornings. Looking into her reflection, Elsa could see now that every change Freja experienced Elsa also saw, but in the reverse direction: Elsa was becoming Freja, while Freja became Elsa. They were literally becoming one another.

Theo looked up at Freja from his magical stupor, somewhat confused, but upon seeing who he thought was Elsa, his cat-like smile spread across his face, and he planted a deep kiss on her lips. Elsa's heart sank with the image. There was no way this could happen, she thought. Hot anger filled her throat, in the way she imagined Dorien felt when the fire inside him reach its boiling point. She wanted to hurt Freja, to destroy her, to make her bleed. All Elsa's better qualities--her beautiful skin, her busty but unique waistline, her beautiful brown eyes, her lovely voice, all of which propped up her shaky self-esteem in the frequent moments it was most threatened--were gone, stolen from her without her consent or understanding. The unfairness of it all struck Elsa to her core, and she wanted to smite in her heart not just Freja but the universe along with it. The Forbidden Forest, nature, God, the cosmos, all of it, punished her for a fault she never consciously engaged in, for a choice she never deliberately made, and it rewarded the one bitch who least deserved it. Elsa looked down at her aging hands, her scraggly skin, loose neck, her now bony frame, tiny wrists, long slender hag nose and spindly fingers--all of it made her sick to her stomach, and a claustrophobia overcame her to the point of sickness. She watched as Theo, the love of her life, left the room with the ugliest bitch to walk the face of the earth--a woman ugly not just on the surface, but in her heart--a woman who had to steal someone else's beauty and kindness to get someone to love her. The situation broke something in Elsa, tore out a small piece of the better parts of her soul, permanently, and she was forever changed.