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Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

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“His face was glistening with cold. He was beautiful, the snow in his eyelashes like diamonds, the cool pink of his cheeks, the wet red of his lips. He was staggering toward her. "I have to leave you." His breath came in uneven bursts. "You won't be safe with me." Whatever he was, he could not be bad. An amazing and terrible thought entered Valerie's mind, clearing away all others. "Peter..." She stepped toward him, arms out. They gave in to each other, finally, their bodies fitting together. Her fingers warmed his cheek, and his arms slipped underneath her crimson cloak as her long blond hair blew around them. Enveloped in a shelter of white, standing out in black and red, were just the two of them. Nothing else anywhere. Valerie knew that she could never be apart from him, that she was what he was and that she would be his always. She didn't care if he was the Wolf or not. And if he was a Wolf, then she would be one, too. She made he choice and brought her lips to his.”

“What was that about?" Henry's voice came out higher than he would have liked. "Shh." Peter's eyes shifted around the square. "I thought you cared about her," Henry said, careful to steady his voice this time. Peter rubbed his eyes and hen opened them, hoping to find that Henry had gone. He hadn't. "I do care." Peter sighed, seeing that we would have to give a genuine answer, that Henry wouldn't take anything less. "But" —Peter nodded in the direction of the tavern, where the Captain was— "I'm trying to be smart about it.”

“You've been betrothed." Her hand dropped from the unruly seam at her shoulder. She stared straight ahead at his sun-touched skin. "To...Henry Lazar." It wasn't easy for him to say the name. Valerie felt something fall to the floor of her stomach like a wet rag. "No," she said, not wanting to believe him. "No, no," she told his chest. Peter stood mute, wishing he could tell her what she wanted to hear. "It's not possible," she said. "It is. I'm telling you, it's done.”

“For Lucie," Peter said quietly, the flame of a gilded saint's candle fluttering in his hand." "Leave." Peter had anticipated this reaction and was prepared. He cleared his throat. "I'm paying my respects," he said, still trying to be polite. The woman was grieving for her daughter. "I can guess the reason you're here. I've just lost one daughter," she said, her hand on the door. "I won't lose another." "Wait," "She's all I have left," she said. "And you have nothing to offer her." Peter knew that she was right, that Valerie deserved better. But he could not give her up. "I have a trade. The same one as your husband." "I know what a woodcutter earns." Peter began to protest, but Suzette stopped him. "Henry Lazar is her only hope for a better life." Peter looked into Suzette's anguished eyes, her words hitting him somewhere deep. It sank in: He could not give Valerie a good life. "If you love her," Suzette said, her voice cracking, "you'll leave her alone.”

“Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in. "Friend? You left us. In the caves." Henry's muscles tensed. Peter stepped back cautiously. Henry didn't look like himself. "Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father. "And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead." Valerie moved to Henry. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "It's not worth it." Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. The force knocked her back. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground. Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. "You filth," he spat out. This really got the villagers going. But Peter didn't laugh. He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face. "Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off!”

“Peter," she began. He looked up at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I love you," she said freely. With Peter, she was laid bare; he extracted her from herself. Peter didn't know what to say. HIs eyes glimmered, bright and burning. He only let her see them a moment before he turned away. He took a ragged breath. "What were you doing with Rose anyway" she demanded, asking a lot of him. Peter darkened again. He turned his back to her, took a step farther into the alley, and said in a dead voice, "I don't have to like her to get what I want." "I don't believe you," Valerie said, reaching for his face, again. Peter pulled away from her. "You're lying.”

“Dong. Dong. Dong. The third toll of the church bells hovered in the air, and everything became still. Someone in the village had died. Valerie froze. Dong. A forth toll shattered the silence. The world split open, exposing a raw inside. Valerie and Peter looked at each other first in confusion, then in awful understanding. The fourth bell meant only one thing: Wolf attack. She had never heard the fourth bell except for the time she and Peter had rung it themselves. With those bells, Valerie knew. Life would never be the same,”

“Do you want to marry him?" Peter stopped in front of her, pressing close. "You know I don't." "Do I? Do we know each other anymore? It's been a long time. I'm not the same person I was." "You are," she insisted. "I know who you are." She knew it was ridiculous, to feel so strong so fast...but she did. It just felt like they belonged together. She took his hand and held it tight. His face softened. "All right, then. There may be one way,,,." he said out to the faint silver hue of the moors on the horizon. Valerie looked at him blankly, her mind racing off on its own. "We could run away," he said, speaking her mind before she's quite reached the thought. He came even closer, almost touching his forehead to hers. "Run away with me," he repeated the words, smiling a real smile, full and dark, in that terrifying way he had, as though his actions were self-contained, as though there were no consequences. She wanted to be a part of his ripple-less world. "Where would we go?" His lips brushed her ear. "Anywhere you want," he said. "The sea, the city, the mountains..." Anywhere. With him. He pulled back to look at her. "You're afraid." "No, I'm not." "You'd leave your home? Your family? Your whole life?" "I-I think I would. Anything to be with you." She heard herself saying it and realized it was true. "Anything?" Valerie pretended to think a moment, for show, to be able to tell herself she had. Then, almost meekly, "Yes." "Yes?" "Yes.”

“Peter?” He couldn’t look at her. Instead, he stared down at his poisoned arm. “I could do terrible things to you,” he cautioned her sadly. “I have to leave you. You won’t be safe with me until I learn to control myself.” “I’ll wait for you.” Finally, when he felt the strength of his conviction, of her conviction, he turned to her, allowing her in for just a moment. “I thought you’d say that.”