A Rose for the Beast

An Elaborate Imagination

Rosalie waited impatiently on the fallen log, gazing at the stagnant pool of blood left behind by Bastien. It had been about five minutes since she watched the stranger lift Bastien like he was weightless before taking off into the dense forest. She figured it would take at least an hour to make a round trip to the village and back.

The majority of the wolves seemed to lose interest in her as they gradually sunk back into the forest and out of sight.

One wolf remained, staring at her with golden eyes. His white coat failed to blend in to the greenery around them, but she doubted that effected the animals hunting abilities. Its lean body, large paws, and massive jaws gave it the perfect makings of a successful predatory. And it was also the most adorable one she had ever seen.

Rosalie smiled gently and waved her fingers at the wolf. Its ears twitched and it continued to boldy stare at her, but other than that, it gave no indication of interest.

"Hey, little guy," she said in a quiet and soft tone, "I'm Rosalie. It's a pleasure to meet such a fluffy puppy."

At that, the wolf's tail flicked back and forth for a moment. It rose from its sitting position to amble across to her. Those golden eyes gazed into hers. She saw a strange sort of wisdom within them. Lost in its mesmerizing irises, she almost didn't notice its lips moving.

"There's a piece of carrot stuck in your teeth."

Rosalie, stunned from hearing an animal speak, stammered for a response.

"Did...did you...You didn't just talk...did you?," she fumbled out.

She nearly sighed in relief when it didn't answer her. Then, it nodded in response. Rosalie reacted by throwing herself back and away from the crazy talking wolf. She stumbled over her hands and knees, then stood, keeping the weird creature in her view. She blushed red with embarrassment and reached for her mouth, picking at her teeth.

"Apologies, Madame. Everytime you smiled, I had to keep myself from cringing. It's a pet peeve of mine," the wolf politely explained.

Rosalie shook her head, "Not at all, crazy talking wolf. Please, let me know when I stop daydreaming."

She decided that's what all of this was, merely a figment of her rather vivid imagination. She must have fallen asleep after her father had left. A nervous laugh bubbled forth as she tried to reason out everything that had happened that night.

"I'm afraid this isn't a dream. And while it may have been an awkward introduction, I planned to speak with you eventually," it tilted its head toward the sky and continued, "We don't have as much time as I would like. Only a few days until the full moon rises."

Rosalie tossed her head back and laughed.

"Now, I know this isn't real. Surely, a wolf would have better things to do than send me off on a wild adventure. I just borrowed a book from Pascal's library about a boy raised by wolves. That must be what inspired this unusual fantasy. I'll wake up soon with my head in the book and laugh about this," she rambled on.

The wolf cocked his head to the right and said, "You're already laughing."

Rosalie went from denial to full-on panic as she gripped the sides of her head. Her eyes widened and she peered at the wolf.

"This is insane. I'm insane," she said in a distressed tone.

"We don't have time for this," the wolf said, anxiously looking around, "He will be back soon. You must listen carefully."

Rosalie sagged to the ground into a defeated slump, legs straight and shoulders hunched.

"Of course, wolfy. Whatever you--," she began to say before the animal invaded her space to stand eyelevel, only a few inches away.

Her heart nearly leapt from her chest as her lungs ceased functioning. The wolf stood close enough to claw at her face or tear into her throat. As frightening as the thought was, she relaxed under the compassionate gaze of the wolf.

"He is not what he seems. Don't let her illusion fool you. Just follow your heart."

Her, who?, she thought.

The entire message confused Rosalie, but before she could inquire further, the wolf bolted away and into the forest. She glanced around, finding herself completely alone. She pulled her sleeve up slightly and inspected her arm. There was only one sure way to discern the truth. Was she really dreaming?

With a quick and painful pinch of skin on her forearm, she had her answer. And possibly a bruise in the near future.

Rosalie's mind whirled at the revelation that everything had bean real. Bastien's assault, the scary roar from an unknown creature, the talking wolf...and the cloaked stranger. She hadn't even gotten his name, yet she'd already promised to go to his home. Most would call it dumb, like the stranger, but she couldn't allow any living creature to suffer.

Her mother had been the same way as a private nurse before she died. She had the kindest heart and most gentle soul. Rosalie missed her terribly.

The stranger arrived then, thankfully interrupting her thoughts.

"Time to go, Lady," he said gruffly.

She stood confidently, with her chin raised and her shoulders drawn back proudly.

"You may address me as Madame Rosalie, sir," she said with complete conviction.

The stranger observed her thoughtfully, one brow raised.

"Very well, Madame Rose," he said, ignoring her demand almost entirely. Though she didn't mind the improvised name he'd given her. She'd always thought roses were the most beautiful kind of flower.

He surprised her by bowing respectively. His precise movements reminded her of the nobles and dukes who occasionally visited Maelynn. Such precision had to be instilled at an early age, which caused Rosalie to ponder the unlikely possibilty that this stranger was from a royal bloodline. The far fetched notion didn't seem plausible to her.

Until he introduced himself.

"I am Michel Duchesne, of Bellemontagne. And you have some explaining to do, Madame."