Authors: Casey Elliot
*****
His eyes flashed in the moonlight, as a flicker of his face came into view. Handsome and refined, his features were perfect, but strong. As Rochelle adjusted her eyes to what she was seeing, he was suddenly gone; disappearing into the dense forest.
"Wait! No!" she called out the window.
Leaping from the wreck of the car, she dashed after the man with her feet sinking into the sodden mud as she ran. The trees were tightly spaced with wet and jagged branches hitting her as she went. However, the adrenaline was pumping so fast she didn't feel the pain; only the dire need to discover what was happening.
She wasn't sure where she was running to, but she knew that somewhere ahead of her, the man was running away because she could hear him. The branches and foliage were snapping beneath his weight with the sound of his limp obvious amongst the quickening footsteps.
"Come back!" she called. "I'm sorry,” she gasped for air.
Now, deep within the woods, she stopped for a moment to regain her breath, and it was then she realized she had no idea where she was.
She spun around on her heels, as her feet stuck into the mud. All around her looked identical and she soon found she didn't know which way she was running or what direction she'd just come from.
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," she slapped her hands to her face, as the desperation of the situation dawned on her. "Oh…… No," and the tears started again.
For a crazy minute, she felt as though she was somehow being persecuted or punished for running away from home.
I should never have ran away. I'm such a terrible person.
The thoughts wouldn't leave her mind. However, after a short while, her mania slowed down, as she heard a rustling ahead of her. The fear returned. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and held her breath with her eyes wild and staring.
Again, the rustling sounded as though I was just ahead of her. She hoped it was a small animal; something cute hopefully like a squirrel or a fox, but she knew from the sound of the steps it was much bigger.
"Hello?" she called into the night; hoping there'd be no reply.
"Be quiet," came a gruff response, "or they'll hear you."
Rochelle's blood ran cold. She remained rooted to the spot with her limbs trembling in fear, as she listened to the steps coming closer.
"Who- who- who are you?" she stuttered with her lips quivering out the words.
Then, she saw him; the tall man with the statuesque physique. His hands were clutched to his side and he was bent slightly at the waist, as he staggered.
"You hit me kinda hard there, didn't you?" His voice was deep and gravely.
"I hit you? But, I hit a bear....didn't I?"
"Does it matter?" His breath was labored. "Whether I'm man or beast, you still hit me."
It was then she noticed how much pain he was in and instinctively ran to his aid. A large cut to his forehead was bleeding heavily while he held onto his ribs.
"I think you broke something," he pointed to his side.
"Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you totaled my car."
"No..." his voice was stern. "That's not helping."
She looked up to his face and saw there was a cheeky glint in his eyes, despite the fact he was in agony.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sound so….," she slid an arm around his waist to help him stand. "It's just this night has been...crazy."
"Tell me about it," he winced in pain.
"You probably didn't help yourself by running with a broken rib," said Rochelle.
"Who are you? My mother?" the man responded caustically.
An awkward silence hung between them as they decided what to do next. Rochelle was confused by everything that had taken place and her head was fuzzy; her thoughts unclear.
"What are you even doing out here?" she asked as she looked him up and down.
There was something about the way he dressed in his immaculate clothes that showed he wasn't a wild woodsman or a hermit.
"I live out here," he pointed into the distance, "If you'd care to walk me home."
*****
For a long while, they walked in silence with Rochelle clinging onto the muscular man. Every few minutes, he'd have to stop with the pain blazing up his side, but then, he'd breathe it out and be eager to get home.
Meanwhile, the young girl was still in shock and was merely going through the motions, as the events unfolded before her. Occasionally, she would let her mind drift away, as she imagined she was in a bizarre dream, but at other times, she could smell the earthen musk coming from the man beside her, feel his grip around her body, and knew he was real.
Yet, although he was badly injured, she couldn’t' stop herself from looking at him, taking furtive, cheeky glances at his body when the moonlight fell upon him. There was something so distinguished about him, so enigmatic, but she couldn't articulate it. She'd never met a man like him and she needed answers, but whenever she tried to talk, her mouth would dry up and she'd have forgotten what she wanted to say.
Soon enough, a clearing formed ahead, as the thick trees and bushes gave way to a groomed and grassy landscape. In the distance, a fox cried and somewhere even further out in the forest, the birds were beginning to wake. As Rochelle looked up, she could see the dark sky morph into a light grey and she knew the morning had begun.
Where did the night go?
She wondered, as she tried to remember the last few hours.
"Well, this is it," the man wheezed. "Home, sweet home,"
He reached out a hand and gestured into a small patch of rose bushes.
They seemed so out of place amongst the wild plants that were lined up in immaculate segments. Just behind him lay a paved lane, which led up to an ornate and wooden front door. It was the entrance to a small, but magical looking log cabin and Rochelle blinked, as though she was seeing things. To her, it looked like a film set, but to the man, it was just his home.
"I guess you better come inside," he pulled away from her.
As he left Rochelle's side, she found herself sad to feel him detach from her. He was warm and felt like a certain kind of protection, regardless of how strange he was. Pushing open the door, he let her inside, and as soon as she entered, she felt safe.
The man, on the other hand, appeared to be on the brink of collapse and he stumbled down the hall before collapsing on a couch. By the time Rochelle reached his side, he was already asleep. Finding herself in this mysterious house, she wasn't sure what to do next. All she knew was that she didn't know where she was and that the man in front of her was injured… and it was her fault.
Lifting his feet up onto the sofa and removing his boots, she did her best to make him more comfortable and propped his head up on a cushion.
"Here, that'll feel better," she whispered. Although she knew he couldn't hear her.
He grunted in response, as though he could sense her from somewhere far away in his dreams. Rochelle smiled at him before exploring the cabin for water and a cloth, and then she set about cleaning his wounds. As she dabbed cold water on his brow and cleaned the cut, she once again saw how handsome he was. His hair was dark brown and thick while his features were soft, but prominent. If she'd seen him in another setting, she would have thought he was a prince, but what could he possibly be doing living out here? She glanced around the cabin once again for answers.
Maybe he's a reclusive rock star?
She reasoned;
or an actor that just wants his privacy perhaps?
She settled on these outlandish explanations, as she cleaned his face, and then she moved to lift up his shirt.
Her hands were shaking as she pulled at the edge of the fabric. She felt as though she was doing something intrusive and wrong eventhough she just wanted to help him. As she pulled up the shirt to reveal his muscular body, she could now clearly see the damage she had inflicted with her car. With a heavy heart, she gazed at the purple bruises that were quickly forming on his skin and she knew that she'd broken at least one of his ribs. But, her attention was soon distracted by the sight of his tight abs. She felt herself staring a moment too long, and then she shook her head to rid herself of the naughty thoughts before lowering his shirt.
Outside the cabin, the sun was beginning to rise through the trees and she could already feel its warmth, as it beamed through the windows. Eyeing a comfortable looking armchair by the fireplace, she slumped into it and yawned. The night had taken a toll on her and she was now exhausted. Feeling her eyes grow heavy, she vowed to stay awake in case the man needed her help, but the more she tried to remain alert, the more she felt her head grow heavy.
It wasn't long until she rested her head against the arm rest and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, as the sun shone down on her face.
*****
Rochelle's father, Sheriff Redshaw, was standing at the kitchen window watching the morning spread across the sky. Despite the beautiful weather, he felt dark on the inside; as black as the deepest hole, and he shivered. He was examining the tire tracks his daughter had left in the dirt as she sped away. He always knew the day would come when she'd run away. She was nineteen after all, and if she was anything like her older sister, she'd be real trouble.
"God damn insolent child," he smacked the nearest chair with the back of his hand in anger and regretted it.
Holding onto his stinging fingers, he grimaced as he looked out the window once again. He'd called her bluff and expected her to come hurrying home as soon as she got scared, but it was almost midday and she still wasn't back. Either she'd blossomed into a brand new person overnight or something had happened. Rochelle wasn't anywhere near as worldly as the other girls from school, so her father couldn't imagine where she could be. He also knew that her gas tank was almost empty and, out here in the middle of nowhere, she couldn't have gotten far.
The more he thought about it, the more he wasn't sure whether he should be angry or worried. Behind him, he heard the shuffling footsteps of his wife as she approached with a coffee in her hand. She placed it down with a clunk and watched the steam drift up into the sunlight. Then, she sniffed and she felt her husband's angry eyes on her.
"For Christ sake's woman, why are you crying again?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that....this isn't like her," she sniveled into her sleeve.
"Kids eh? You feed them, clothe them, give them everything you got and they treat you like this," he flung up his arms and gestured outside. "God damn teenagers," he huffed before picking up his coffee.
He turned to continue his tirade, but soon noticed his wife had disappeared and he caught a glimpse of her hurrying up the stairs as quiet as a ghost.
"Always cryin’," he shook his head. "Women...." and he clutched his forehead with his meaty fingers.
It was then, in this moment of despair that he decided what to do next. Reaching out to the kitchen counter, he went to pick up his phone, but as soon as he unlocked the screen, he noticed he'd picked up Rochelle's cellphone by accident.
"She doesn't go anywhere without this," he frowned in thought.
Reaching for his own phone, he tapped his deputy's name and waited with baited breath. He answered on the third ring.
"What the hell took you so long?"
"Sorry boss, my phone was in my pocket."
"Always an excuse for everything," Redshaw rolled his eyes. "But anyway, I need you to do something for me and fast."
"Anything?"
"Find my daughter."
"Anna?"
"No, my youngest, Rochelle."
"Rochelle's missing?" the deputy sounded shaken. "How? What happened?"
"Never you mind about my family's business," the sheriff dismissed him. "You just head on out to the main road and see if there are any signs of her. She drove outta here late last night….. Couldn’t have gone far,"
"I'll be right on it," the deputy nodded as he spoke.
"Thanks Terry," and the sheriff hung up.
*****
When Rochelle woke up, she had a stiff neck and her thighs felt as though they were on fire. She couldn't remember the last time she had to run anywhere and she hadn't walked that far in her life. As she sat up straight, she winced at the way her spine cracked.
"Urgh," she clutched at her neck.
"Morning!" the voice seemed as though it was singing from the kitchen.
She looked around the cabin and tried to remember what happened, and once again, she looked over the cabin for clues as to who the man was. The place looked so different during the day. You could almost mistake it for an ordinary bachelor pad - almost. Above the fireplace lay a gruesome reminder that she was not in an average person's house. On the wall lay a wolf's head mounted onto a plaque. This wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary in this part of the country if it wasn't for the other macabre trinkets that were lined up beneath it. Bones of all varieties were immaculately filed away in size order, and between each bone lay a tooth.
"What the-?" she jumped up to get a better look.
She felt herself stop and reel back, as she got close enough to see they were human teeth. Wanting to escape, she looked for the front door and saw it was at the end of the long hallway.
How long would it take me to reach it?
She thought.
But, then what? Where would I go?
Panic was setting in again. She was always a nervous girl, but the past night had only exacerbated any anxious tendencies she owned.
Oh God!
She nibbled furiously on a fingernail, as she listened to the sounds of breakfast being made in the kitchen. It smelled pretty good, she had to admit that, but still....
"Are you coming to join me?" the voice came from behind her.
Spinning round in surprise, she saw the man in front of her. He was almost like a new man with no signs of his injuries. She looked for the cut on his head and quickly saw that it wasn't there. Clapping her hand to her mouth in disbelief, she gasped.
"What are you? What's going on?"
"Well ain't that a nice way to thank the chef," he smirked at her.
"I need answers, like right now."
"Calm down girl. Let's talk over some sausage."
"What? No!" she protested eventhough she was walking through to the kitchen behind him. "How do I know it's not human sausage?"
"Human?" the guy chuckled. "What on earth are you even talking about?" he laughed, as he sat down.
Tucking into the fried breakfast with some enthusiastic chewing, he looked up to her puzzled face and thought her expression was priceless.
"I can promise you it's not human sausage," he laughed again.
Rochelle couldn't help but smile eventhough she was trying to look as badass as possible. There was something about his laugh that was so cute and light hearted, she found herself saying:
"Well, ok then. Thanks for making me breakfast." She began to chow down as her stomach growled.
"I'm Reuben, by the way," he spoke with a full mouth.
Usually, Rochelle despised terrible table manners, but something about him seemed so manly and rugged that his elbows on the table and loud chewing seemed kinda endearing.
"I'm Rochelle," she couldn't quite look him in the eye. "But, my friends call me Shell."
"Nice," he smiled and looked to his new house guest with his piercing green eyes.
She’d never seen a shade of green so bright before and thought his eyes looked like shimmering emeralds. She swooned beneath his gaze and felt her cheeks grow hot.
"What's the matter?" Reuben sensed her embarrassment.
"Nothing," she cast her eyes down onto her plate. "I'm just a bit....overwhelmed I guess."
"Yeah, well....I can't say I get a lot of visitors out here. It's kinda weird for me too, you know."
"It must be," she looked at her food, as her thoughts ran amok. "But... the cut on your head... the broken ribs… you were limping and in agony last night. You were really hurt!" The confusion had returned and she rubbed at her forehead as she tried to reflect on it all.
"Soon, I will have to tell you about me, but first... coffee," and he stood up to saunter over to the stove.
He brewed the coffee and grabbed two cups before splashing in some cream and plopping in two sugar cubes.
"You look like you need this," he handed her a cup.
"More than ever," she breathed in the rich aroma and felt it revive her.
"I'm no ordinary man," he sat back down and began to explain. "Or rather, sometimes, I am not even a man."
"I don't follow," Rochelle, worried she was about to hear the ramblings of a mad man, interjected. "I'm positive I hit a bear last night. I mean I saw a bear! And what are you even doing living out here? And what's with the creepy ornaments?" she pointed down the hall. "And what happened to your injuries?"
She'd built herself up into a frenzy with all the questions and stood up before pacing up and down the kitchen. Reuben watched her with quiet amusement and looked up and down her lithe figure. She was pretty for sure; he couldn't deny that, but it had been so long since he'd been with a woman.
His eyes then drifted to the window and he looked at the leaves on the trees. For a moment, they looked as though they were glittering beneath the sunlight with the wind blowing them in waves. It made him think of the sea, but there wasn’t much that didn’t. Thinking back to his Navy SEAL days, he had a deep longing in his gut. There used to be a time when all he lived for was the savagery and violence of the battlefield. But now, he found himself thinking about settling down with a family. Looking up to the girl once again, he noticed she had the most perfect child-bearing hips and a thought came to his mind. It made him giddy inside, but he dismissed it and looked down to fiddle with a loose thread on his shirt.
"I guess you'll find your answers eventually," he drained his cup before clearing the table. "But, let's go for a walk eh?"
A walk was the last thing Rochelle wanted to do, but as they reached the outdoors again, she was instantly mesmerized by the beauty of the forest.
"This isn't a part of the woods I recognize. Actually, it looks nothing like anything I've ever seen. It's like something from a fairy tale."
"Who says it isn't," Reuben gave her a wry smile.
As they reached the rose bushes, Rochelle ran her fingers over the top of the petals as she walked. She'd never seen flowers like it. They were vibrant and enormous, as if they'd been painted. The smell was to die for and she inhaled a deep breath of the rosy air.
"This place is so beautiful," she smiled.
"I think so too," he agreed, as he looked at her glowing face. "I think it suits you out here."
Again, Rochelle blushed and looked to the grass as she walked. Somehow, it seemed greener than back home, and then a thought came to her.
What if the crash knocked me out and I'm in a coma imagining all of this?
Then, she dismissed the thought, as a fawn walked out of the trees in front of her and stopped.
"Ok this is definitely not happening," she giggled, as it approached and nuzzled into her hand. "What even is this place?"
"Why don't you stop with all the questions," he chuckled. "I have some of my own too."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah! Like what were you doing out on that road all alone in the middle of the night, and why did you crash into me? You could have killed me!" his voice changed, as he remembered the pain she'd inflicted.
"I'm sorry! I just don’t know what to say. I’m just so sorry.”
Reuben nodded in understanding.
“Accidents happen I guess. Plus, I’m alright now, ain’t I?”
“I don’t understand. You just healed up overnight?”
He didn’t answer.
“And there’s something else,” she wasn’t stopping her line of questioning. “Last night, when I found you, you said ‘they’ll hear us’. Who are
they
?”
“Wolves. The wolves can hear everything,” he explained.
She thought about the head above the fireplace and shuddered.
“What’s going on here?”
Reuben sighed and looked to the ground knowing he’d have to tell her sooner or later.
“You really want to know?
“More than anything.”
“Alright, but you got some explaining to do too.”