It was the shrieking again that woke her from a full and lusciously deep sleep with no dreams to recall upon waking. The horrible, shrill sound that pierced the still night, followed by the inevitable howling of the wolves. It had been the same every night for nearly the past week and Soleil was getting tired of it. She felt even more irritated by being woken because of the sharp streak of fear that ripped through her chest every time she heard the noise and bolted upright in her bed. That feeling, that helpless feeling of terror was worse than losing a bit of sleep. She hated feeling out of control.

She turned to light the lamp beside her and pulled on her white, fur-lined robe as she paced to the window which took up almost the whole eastern wall of her bedroom. The fire had died down to crackling embers and the chill crept into her skin as she felt the glass pane of the window and looked out into the blackness. The winter weather had set in early this year it seemed, and once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see a that blanket of frost had sealed to the ground outside.

“Stupid things, making such noise in the middle of the night,” she yawned, talking to herself to calm her galloping heartbeat. She peered closer out into the yard. “They just want to make sure I don’t get a decent night’s sleep, isn’t that right, you devils?” She felt much better at the casually brave sound of her own voice and pressed her palm to the glass again to assess the coolness against her skin.

“It’s so cold tonight,” she murmured as her gaze swept over the front steps of the chateau and out over the gravel drive with the finely frosted topiary lining it on either side, all the way to the black iron gates which were locked tight. She was about to turn away and crawl back into her bed when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. There, out beyond the gates, but not far, she had seen something tall, skinny and pale. It was running toward the woods. They lived in woods, her father had told her, although they only came out at night. She gasped and fell back against the curtain, which she yanked closed, as though the thing could see her from here. She ran back to her bed and jumped into it and pulled up the covers.

“I’m turning eighteen in two weeks, I’m not afraid, I couldn’t possibly be afraid,” Soleil stated and blew out her lamp to prove it. As the howling continued for what seemed like forever she stared blindly at the ceiling until sleep came again, but not before she had already decided something. Tomorrow, she would go to the woods.

****

Although his limbs were cramped from the too-small bed, it was much softer than most other mattress he had slept on in his life, so Taras felt he had no real reason to complain. He was simply taller than most of these fine city-bred folk, and the second-hand feather mattress was meant for a gentler, softer class of people. Overall, he had much to be grateful for when it came to his life in this new place of employment. He had been here at the Devatt manor for a little more than a month and had been treated fairly by Lord Devatt and all the other servants were quite kind to him as well. Well, all except for one: Andre. He was the steward, and had felt, on more than one occasion, the need to push his weight around and show his importance over Taras. He could be rude and a bit of a bully and had given Taras menial tasks that were not necessarily in his line of duties. Andre had given these orders in front of their master, Lord Devatt, and what was Taras to do? Be defiant in front of the generous and kindly man who had given him this chance at good wages and comfortable living? Taras needed the money more than he needed his pride so he swallowed his anger and “yessir’d” as many times as needed when it came to Andre.

There was a reason Andre seemed to dislike Taras more than any of the other servants, Taras noted. It seemed to center around jealousy. Taras knew he was an attractive young man, and he had used his good looks countless times to charm the upper-class families he had worked for. Even here there was a great advantage to being handsome. Many of the ladies in the kitchen would gladly put an extra portion on his plate if he simply said good morning to them sweetly and with a smile. Taras was extremely good at flirting and loved to show off for any female, young or old, but especially if they were any kind of pretty.

Andre, however, could not be called handsome, and yet it was obvious he wished to be. He had rather oily black hair that he made worse by greasing it back starkly from his over-large forehead and it only served to call more attention to his beaky nose and overly squared jaw. His eyes were also quite beady, Taras thought, and startlingly black. In comparison with Taras’s golden boy looks and sparkling green eyes, Andre seemed to feel even more self-conscious than ever before.

All the servants respected Andre, or at least feared him. He knew this house better than anyone, they said. He had been raised here and served here his whole life and his knowledge of how to run things had gotten him the job as head steward when the new family had taken residence but six months ago.

Taras had long ago learned to follow the lead of his fellow workers, to let their experience be his guide to survival and it had served him well so far. So, when Andre sneered at him in passing or said something cruel, he turned the other cheek and acted as though it made no difference to him.

Two months ago, the old huntsman had died of a bad bought of influenza. Taras had needed a job and when he had heard about the Devatt’s open position, he had immediately gone to see about employment. Lord Devatt himself had conducted the interview. He had been quite close with the previous huntsman and wanted someone with experience whom he could also trust. The fact that Taras was young and strong also didn’t hurt. Lord Devatt wanted him to be his huntsman for life. Even the fact that Taras was new to the area didn’t matter much, he would learn. The forest was not as large as the one he had grown up around. This new place and new job would be a chance for a fresh start, something he desperately needed.

He was whistling a folk song with a light heart as he polished the rifles and cleaned out the barrels in his small hut with the door wide open and fresh air breezing in when a soft footfall from behind him caught his ear. Then a low but demanding voice called out, causing him to turn from his task.

“You there, I have need of your assistance.” The voice belonged to a young woman dressed from head to toe in white furs. Taras unwittingly dropped the cloth he had been using to polish the rifles.

He had seen her a few times before, although he was certain she had never really seen him. It was the young daughter of Lord Devatt. He knew from the maids that her given name was Soleil. She shone like the sun she was named for as she stood in the doorway with a petulant look on her face. It was an extraordinary face with features almost too exaggerated for beauty, but still beautiful in their collective makeup. Her eyes were enormous and the clearest blue green color. He had only seen that shade of turquoise in the sea by the village he had lived in as a child. Her skin was alabaster white, but chiseled with angles that gave her an arrogant demeanor which was framed by heavy dark brows that matched the flowing mane of dark blonde hair spilling out from under her snowy rabbit fur hood. The result was an almost leonine countenance and it had allowed her many times to intimidate the people around her, but not so with Taras.

Taras’s gaze fell to the overfull, pouting mouth that seemed displeased with his staring and finally realized he should respond. “Of course, Mademoiselle. How may I be of service to you? His slightly lilting accent gave away his provincial origins, but the young woman did not seem to notice or care.

“I wish to go into the forest. I need an escort, of course.” She let her eyes wander around the small hut, which also doubled as his quarters, before falling back on the young man in front of her. He was over a foot taller than her, but she would never have let that challenge her. “I understand from the maids that you know the woods best, and since you are our new huntsman I thought…” she trailed off, gesturing simply by opening her hands as if to indicate he should follow her out into the cold, crisp morning.

Taras breathed deeply before replying. “So, you have noticed I exist. I’m quite surprised. I’m afraid I can’t take you into the woods, Mademoiselle Devatt. It would be impossible.” He turned away.

Shock registered on Soleil’s face, quickly followed by anger. “Excuse me? Did you just refuse my order?”

His lips pulled into a half smile as he looked down into her face. “Excuse me, mademoiselle, but I take orders from your father first, and he told me specifically when he hired me, that in the winter, no one aside from the men servants are to go into the forest. I might add I agree with Lord Devatt. Those…creatures are present even in the day time now when it snows, and they are too dangerous a risk. As it is we only have one more hunt planned to build up the stores for winter before the snows become too thick to find game.”

Soleil closed her eyes and sighed. “I must get out of the house today. I must.”

“I’m sorry, but you will have to look elsewhere for your pleasure. Perhaps the gardens, or the fields? I hear the solarium is very pretty as well, even with the cold setting in.” Taras turned away again, fully expecting that his interaction with the young mistress was over. This proved he did not know much about Soleil at all. Her stubbornness was her most prominent trait.

“Why not go hunting today?” Soleil queried in a clipped tone. “There is no snow – the sun is bright and high.”

Tara’s fair brows furrowed in displeasure and amusement. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, but what do you know about hunting? I have never seen you ride with your father.”

Soleil grimaced at his wry smiling face that was so attractive, it made her even more upset for some reason. This young huntsman had first come two months ago and she had seen him around the garden sometimes and then riding out with the men to the woods, fearless, flamboyant even. A feeling churned in her stomach unpleasantly, something akin to jealousy although she was incapable of understanding this at the time. Instead she let loose a delicate smile of concession that was really a ploy to get her way rather than friendliness.

“I admit, I know nothing about it. What better way to learn, however, than from you? It seems a simple arrangement. A small hunt through the woods helps you fill the larder quicker and I can get my visit to the woods.”

“Why would you want to go to the woods, mademoiselle?” Taras sighed deeply. “You have never been there as far as I’ve heard. Why today?”

He did not speak to her like a servant should. Soleil blinked. “It doesn’t matter to you, does it?”
“Hmm, I see,” Taras leaned on the door frame and suddenly Soleil felt he was too close and stepped back. “Perhaps you are simply bored. Well, I still say that I cannot go against your father’s orders, but if you would like a bit of diversion,” he waggled his eyebrows at her and she narrowed her eyes in turn, “we could play cards or I could teach you to shoot at targets. After my work is done that is. I would like a bit of company myself.”

His seductive grin was as infuriating as his condescension, and from the huntsman! Soleil put her hands on his chest and pushed him back into the hut. “I can see I have no use for you,” she whipped around and strode away as his light laughter of surprise echoed in her ears and made her cheeks burn. “I’ll go myself.”

Hearing her words, Taras bounded after her and quickly got in her path. His eyes gleamed with serious concern as he looked into hers. “You can’t! It’s too dangerous!” She tried to go past him and he grabbed her and held her with both his strong hands on her arms, sending a strange sensation through her. “I’m not joking, mademoiselle. You could be hurt or…” he trailed off. “You have never seen one of the fiends, have you? They bring death, everyone around here knows this.” His tone had taken on the form of a soft whisper and finally she allowed herself to look at him, into his face, and to see what fear lay in his fearless eyes made her shiver and pause in her efforts to be free of his grasp.

“That is just local superstition,” she replied automatically but her voice was no longer coolly confident, but hesitant with the ripe fear of her own ignorance.

Soleil gazed past Taras and even though she knew he was speaking to her, her eyes were drawn to the forest. The wall of black evergreens pierced the pale sky with a looming presence that seemed to breathe, seemed to be alive and as she looked, the more she looked, she seemed to feel her body pull away from her and speed toward them with an unwillingness and urgency of need until she could feel the dark bracken scraping at her and a face appeared before her, white and terrible with pale ice-colored eyes that were hungry and full of hatred.

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! Are you alright?” Soleil’s eyes opened, although she did not remember closing them. She was in Tara’s arms on the cold ground and his expression was truly panicked. She quickly tried to rise and he helped her to her feet as best he could.

“What happened?” she asked him and the simplicity of her question made him start. She had no idea that she had been moaning and then fainted. He told her and she was puzzled. “That is strange. I’ve never fainted before.”

Taras regarded her with a more appraising look and finally shook his head. “You seem alright now, but it was so strange. I was one moment from calling for help when you awoke.”

Soleil observed that his concern seemed to have softened him toward her, and not in the grossly flirtatious manner he had had earlier. “Please, will you take me to the woods? We don’t have to travel far in.”

“I could be dismissed, and I need the pay, mademoiselle. No.”

“I will ensure you are not dismissed. No one will miss us for a little while.” Soleil shifted on her feet. “I will go without you otherwise.”

“Again, I ask you why? Why must you go at all?” This young woman was so strange and stubborn. Taras had to admit she was very beautiful, but he needed this position badly, too much to risk it for nothing but a pretty girl.

“I just…must.” Soleil felt the tugging pull of that ugly black wall of trees and took a step forward unwittingly.

“Wait! Fine! Fine, I’ll take you, just…wait.” Taras turned around and ducked into the hut to get his rifle and his best hunting knife, along with his warmest gloves and overcoat. When he returned, clouds were beginning to flow into the colorless sky above. Snow would be coming soon, but neither of them spoke of it now. “I may regret this, but let’s go.” Taras began to walk to the stables.

“Where are you going?” Soleil called and he turned.

“To get horses.”

Soleil shook her head. “No. I don’t ride.”

Taras’s mouth fell open. “You don’t ride?”

“We shall go on foot,” Soleil stated and walked to the gate.

Taras felt in his gut he would regret this folly, but he could only follow. “Very well, on foot, mademoiselle. I’ll give you no more than an hour of my time.”

Soleil barely heard him. Her heart was pounding with a nervous emotion that wasn’t fear, but perhaps was like an anticipation of her urgent instinct about to be fulfilled.

Marching quietly side by side, they closed the iron gate behind them and set their course across the small frosted meadow before they were swallowed up by the hungry opaque veil of the woods.