Take him up on his offer

Adella glances toward the sun, setting ever lower in the sky, and another look at the imposing forest. All of the warnings she heard about the dangers of blundering into the Obsidian Forest suddenly come rushing back to her.

“Your offer is most kind, Master Tegan. We shall be grateful of your hospitality for the evening, if you are sure it will not be too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” he replies, with a grin and a courteous bow. “My home is not far from here. Come, and you may rest from your travels.”

Tegan leads the way, while Adella tries to ignore the look of disapproval from her friend. After several minutes of travel, Courtney draws her horse beside Adella’s. In a low voice, she says, “It is your call, Your Highness, and I respect that, but please keep your guard up. There is something here that is not right, but I cannot put my finger on it.”

“You will feel differently once you have hot food in your belly and a soft bed on which to rest,” replies the princess. “But enough of ‘Your Highness’ for now; remember that I am your sister Parapine, and your name is Lystrella. We are humble ladies from Camoratheon.

Courtney wrinkles her nose. “In truth, I wish you had selected a different name for me. The only Lystrella I have ever known used to torment me when I was eight years old. Her father was a low-ranking clerk, and her mother served at the Palace in the kitchen, but you would think she was the daughter of the Empress of Langonia, the way she carried on!”

Adella laughs. “I know who you are talking about! The girl with the dirty blonde pigtails, who never smiled?”

“Never smiled? Why, she looked like she had been weaned on a pickle! Her sour face perfectly matched her disposition. Whatever happened to her?”

Adella thinks. “If I recall correctly, her parents were both dismissed and had to move away. I was quite young at the time, but I seem to remember quite the scandal at the time about the mother having an affair with an Akaname.”

“Akaname? Don’t they have long, poisonous tongues?”

“Indeed,” says Adella. “But I guess it tells you a bit about Lystrella’s father, if she had to reach out for comfort from something like that.”

Courtney shudders at the thought, but then brightens. “Speaking of long tongues — but of the non-poisonous kind — have you seen the archery instructor your father just employed?”

“No, I have not,” answers Adella, intrigued.

“I think his name is Borger. They say his tongue is so long and dexterous that he can use it to write his name in the snow with perfect penmanship.”

“Indeed? And who says this?”

“A couple of your mother’s ladies-in-waiting. I asked one of them, ‘So how long, exactly, is his tongue?’ And you know what she said? ‘Long enough to make me forget about my fiancé!’”

Both ladies burst out laughing. Courtney says, “I’ll tell you where I’d like to have him try writing his name, and it wouldn’t be in any snowbank!”

Just then they come over a rise and Tegan turns to his right on a barely-perceptible path. The ladies follow and soon find themselves in front of a small wooden cabin. It is modest in size, and has one door in front and a couple of tiny windows, one of which is on the front of the building, while the other is on a side facing an empty stable.

“Here we are,” says Tegan, cheerfully. “If you’d like, I can help you inside with your things, and then I will tend to your horses.”

“Thank you, Tegan. That is most kind,” answers Adella. “What, Lystrella? Do not forget to thank our host. Is there something wrong with your tongue?”

She says this while facing her friend, so Tegan is unaware of the mischievous smile on the princess’ face. Courtney, for her part, suppresses a smile and replies. “Of course, Master Tegan. Thank you so much for your courtesy.”

“Not at all, ladies. Now, if you will excuse my humble bachelor accommodations. Had I known I would have such charming guests, I would have taken a broom to it.”

He opens the door, and the ladies enter. They see the home is a one-room structure. In one corner is a small wood-burning stove. In another corner is a small bed. Another corner holds a small table with a couple of rough chairs. The fourth corner has a few barrels and sacks of supplies.

“This will be quite adequate,” says Adella. “But we do feel it is an imposition to ask you to sleep outside.”

“Do not say another word about it, ladies. But look... the sun is setting, and I must tend to your horses. I shall return shortly.” He takes each lady’s hand, in turn, and kisses it, before leaving the house, closing the door behind him.

Adella moves to pick up her bag, but stops when she sees her friend. “Courtney! Whatever is the matter? You look like you have seen the devil himself!”

Courtney is white and wide-eyed with fright. “Perhaps I have, Your Highness! Did you notice his hands when he kissed ours?”

Adella smiles indulgently. “No, my friend. I do not fixated on such things as you do. Besides, it is an old wives’ tale that the length of a man’s genitalia can be determined by the size of his hands....”

“It is not that, Your Highness! His index finger — it was unnaturally long — longer than any of his other fingers!”

“What of it?”

“Don’t you see? That’s one of the most telling signs of the werewolf!”

Adella looks at her friend skeptically. “Werewolf? That man? Surely not! I have rarely seen such a slight, weak-looking man.”

“That’s just it, M’lady! Now I know what’s been bothering me; it just didn’t add up. How could such as him survive out here in the wilderness? He carries no weapons. He scarcely has the upper body strength to defend himself against wild beasts or other dangers. He says he is a trapper, but his clothing bears no evidence of that — it is linen, with no fur or leather. Look around this home. Do you see any skins? Any furs? Any meat at all? A trapper would have an abundance, but Tegan has none. And he has a stable, but no horses? Why is that? I tell you, he is a hunter, but he hunts with his teeth and claws, and what remains is not fit for use as skins! And look how the horses were spooked from the moment they saw him!”

Adella shakes her head. “Surely you are imaging things! A werewolf is a savage thing, and Tegan is quite nice. And why would he invite us into his home? That’s hardly the werewolf method for hunting, is it?”

“That’s the thing, M’lady! It is a full moon tonight, and when the transformation takes place, the wolf is overcome with the twin compulsions to breed and to feast. The forest must be full of available food, but how many women do you think make their way through these parts?”

“Are you saying he intends to have intercourse with us?” Adella asks, horrified.

“I fear so, M’lady, and if that is true, we must think carefully now what to do if we are to survive this night. A werewolf is a savage beast, and when the moon lust comes over him, the only way to keep him from devouring every living creature in sight is to satisfy its other primary urges. There are only two reasons a werewolf would have brought us here: to fuck or to feed!”

Adella is so shocked that she doesn’t even notice her friend’s vulgarity. “Then we must leave at once!”

She rushes to the door, but when she attempts to open it, she is unable. “It is locked from outside!” She rushes to the windows. “Do you think you could fit through this window, Courtney? It is quite small.”

“I do not know; I fear we are trapped!”

The ladies look outside and see the sun very nearly set. From the stables the horses are making noises of alarm.