One flurry of reshaped bodies and sprouting fur later, excited pants and yips filled the hall. All but Erik, the seer, and the pregnant females who couldn’t transform, erupted from the front door to join the hunt. Haunting wolf song sent chills down Erik’s spine.
Ripped and torn clothing littered the floor and table. And the coat of arms hanging from the wall. And the chandelier. Erik watched a velvet bodice ignite on a candle, momentarily brightening the room. It rained smoldering embers on the table before falling in a blazing mass onto an empty platter. One of the remaining females doused the flames with a goblet of water. Next to the smoking remnant of finery, a soggy sleeve floated in an elegant silver tureen. A bit of abused cotton fluff drifted down to settle on Erik’s lip. He huffed it away.
The lord of the forest dwellers remained in his chair by sheer force of will alone. I won’t do it. He gripped the padded arms of his chair. I’m better than this. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.How can I teach my people to be civilized if I’m unwilling to be civilized myself? One arm of his chair broke free. Damnation, that’s the third one this week. Still, he squeezed tightly. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t…
A massive grandfather clock, draped with a pair of shredded braes, ticked off the moments, while Erik stared at the seer and pregnant women. The women’s wistful expressions, and the disappointed eyes that darted toward the door through which their pack members had fled, spoke loudly of where they’d be if given half a chance—and it wasn’t eating rabbit they hadn’t killed themselves. The seer, for his part, quietly relieved an absent neighbor’s trencher of choice portions of meat. It didn’t escape Erik’s notice that Jarl replaced the stolen entre with peas.
From deep within Erik, his wolf whined, longing to feel wind caressing fur and the soft loam of the forest floor beneath heavily padded paws—the satisfaction of ridding the world of a dastardly scum in a very fulfilling—and filling—way.
Erik heaved a weary sigh, slowly rising from the chair while fighting for control. No use. The wolf, bigger, stronger, and possessing no annoying human conscience, won the day. All right, but I’m doing it my way. If I’m to be a beast, at least I intend to be genteel about it.
Very methodically, he removed his waistcoat, vest, and tunic, folding them neatly and placing them on the table. Next went his boots and stockings. Poised to remove his trousers, he recalled his audience. Four young mothers-to-be eyed him with great interest.
“Turn around!” he commanded.
“Seen it!” shouted three of the women at once.
“Rode it!” boasted the fourth.
The three glared at the fourth until one guffawed. “I wouldn’t brag were I you, because we all know what side of the river Lord Erik swam to immediately after.”
The three who had never ridden the forest lord sniggered, while red-faced Lady Isibel, the one who had, retorted, “Don’t blame me! It wasn’t my fault!” Much quarreling and bickering ensued.
“A-hem,” Erik interjected softly, trying again more loudly when his first attempt failed. The women ceased hurling insults and glared up at him. They quite possibly appeared more threatening as pregnant humans than in wolf form. He regarded the woman who was his one attempt to bond with a female with what he hoped passed for a look of kindly affection. “It wasn’t your fault,” he assured her.
A formidable opponent in her own right, Lady Isibel’s mates guarded Erik’s life. Nothing could be gained by angering this pureblood of noble birth. His people’s violent history taught the necessity of picking battles wisely, and to never, ever pick a quarrel with pregnant female—you wouldn’t win.
“Told you,” Isibel gloated to her tablemates.
Returning to the matter at hand, Erik reminded them, “That still doesn’t mean you get to look now. You should be ashamed! All of you are joined women. What would your mates think?”
The women, all dark-eyed and darker-haired, exchanged glances and disappointed pouts. Thankfully, Erik stood too far away to understand all their comments, but some of the louder included, “Who cares?”, “I’ve never given him permission to think!”, and “Until he’s capable of thinking with his stones, I’ve nothing to worry about.”
“You, too!” Erik ordered the seer.
“But I’m blind!”
“You saw that someone entered the forest, did you not?”
Jarl stroked his beard, wearing his “I’m a wise old man pondering your words” face.