Lost in the Castle

~11~

It was an exquisite feeling, riding a horse over frosty, snow-covered meadows, and even though at first I was feeling cold, soon my cheeks were burning with heat and excitement.

My horse was as fast as the wind, carrying me with ease across the countryside, towards the first trees of the thickset forest. There I slowed down, and the sound of the freezing breeze filling my ears morphed gradually into the sound of the horse's hooves, breaking the fragile stems of the frozen grass and Vlad's relaxed laughter. He was close behind me, and as he reached me, I saw him grinning widely, our previous conversation forgotten.

I frowned and looked in front of me. I hadn't forgotten, but I didn't want him to notice. Not now.

"I won," I said instead, teasing.

"I let you win, as always, my love," he said, making me smile. He was still the same.

"Will you ever grow up?" I asked, pretending to be offended by his words, secretly hoping he would never change. I loved him the way he was.

Suddenly, I heard a loud rustle, a sound of footfalls disturbing the carpet of the fallen, frosted leaves, coming from among the trees. It startled me, making me lead my horse closer to Vlad.

"Don't worry, they won't harm you," he said, his voice confident, reassuring.

Who won't harm me? I scanned the trees of the forest, still unable to see anything. He raised his right hand slightly, as if in a silent salute, and then I finally saw them. A large pack of wolves emerged slowly from beneath the trees, approaching us.

I gasped at the sight, mesmerised by the creatures' beauty. Their silvery-grey fur glittered even more than the fresh snow lying under their paws. The pack seemed to be tame, friendly even.

Vlad smiled at me, and before I could ask, he responded to my unspoken question.

"You have never met them. They have kept following me around ever since I came back here. Long after... you were gone."

There was so much I didn't remember, didn't know, wanted to find out... thousands of questions filled my mind in an instant. Not now. Vlad was becoming too thoughtful and forlorn again.

"But I have read about your wolves," I said the first thing that crossed my mind in an attempt to distract him and regretting it straight away. That book, Dracula, had nothing to do with him in the end; he wasn't the Count described in that story. But there was the very anachronistic copy of it lying on the desk in the library. Hmm...

Seeing his questioning look, I wasn't sure how to explain. "In my book. The one I was carrying when I met you in the castle."

He laughed, taking me by surprise. "I see," he said, bemused. "My friend, the Irish fool, Stoker, likes them too. I remember now that he mentioned them in his tale, I read it a long time ago."

My jaw dropped at hearing this. Stoker is his friend. Is. I was sure that the writer died in London, nearly a century ago. I was equally certain that he had never visited Romania. Or him. Maybe I'm wrong... I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and caught him grinning at me. He was just making fun of me. Or was he? But the book...

I mentally added the new information to my ever growing 'think about later' list and jumped off the horse. I wanted to touch the wolves, to feel their mesmerising, iridescent fur under my fingers.

Instead of approaching them directly, I sat down on a large branch fallen off one of the trees, and let them come closer at their own will. They formed a small semi-circle in front of me, not quite trusting, but soon there was one, a young, dove grey wolf, lying down at my feet. I took my glove off and touched its cold, wet snout gently, then scratched behind its ears. It was beautiful, the wolf's fur so incredibly soft and warm. In no time, there were more of them, coming close, nuzzling at my hands and letting me touch them.