Defying Destiny (30 page)

Find strength within yourself to fight

your madness.

Most of the Wolves glanced around, as

if they weren’t sure how they’d arrived at

their current destination. Those who had

easily shaken off the curse, who would

have never left their homes under normal

circumstances, turned and fled into the

forest—a writhing sea of furry bodies.

The twenty or so remaining behind, those

particularly prone to the moon’s affects—

Nash’s brother Cort had once been a part

of this stubborn lot—remained behind,

circling Maralee and Stacia, who still had

her fangs in the human’s neck. This

surprised Nash. His mother never

struggled against the curse as long as he

was present to shatter its affects.

Mother, let go of her
, Nash woofed.

Stacia growled, a wordless sound of

warning. Her eyes were not glazed by the

effects of the full moon curse. She was

fully in control of her actions.

What has gotten into you?
Nash asked

her.

She

growled

again,

and

then

whimpered,
Cort.

Will killing her bring Cort back
?

Nash snarled.
Will it? You said I could

handle this my way. She will no longer

hunt our people. Let her go.

Stacia hesitated. Her bite loosened;

released. She took a step backwards.

Go back to the village
, Nash told her.

She turned and trotted off in the

direction of the forest, her head and tail

low. Nash turned his attention to the

remaining

Wolves.

The

smell

of

Maralee’s blood flowing from the deep

puncture wounds on her throat worked

them into a frenzied state. Nash stood

protectively over her motionless body and

emitted a low, long howl. The Wolves

paused briefly to look at him. Nash locked

eyes with those facing him. They froze,

lost in his stare.

Return home. You do not belong here
,

he told them in soft, murmur of a howl. He

blinked, breaking their trancelike state.

They immediately left for the Wolf

village. Nash continued in this manner,

locking gazes with small groups of the

Wolves until all had regained their senses

and vanished. It had taken less than two

minutes. With his people gone, and the

village safe, he turned his attention to

Maralee.

Blood leaked in thick rivulets from

both sides of her neck. The melting snow

beneath her head was crimson. He lapped

at the injury on one side of her neck,

attempting to close the wound. She was

losing too much blood, too quickly. Even

though the bleeding slowed with his

healing saliva, blood gushed from the

other side unfettered.

The door of a house across the street

opened and two figures stepped onto the

porch. “She should be fine in couple of

days. Keep giving her the medicine I gave

you, but come get me at once if her fever

escalates.” The confident voice of a man

carried across the intersection.

“Are you sure that you won’t stay until

morning? The Wolves seem uncommonly

restless tonight.” This was a woman’s

voice.

“It seems to have quieted down,” the

man said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, thank you for coming so late.

We all rest easier knowing we have such

a fine and capable doctor in our humble

village.”

Doctor?
Nash lifted his head and

caught the outline of the man’s medical

bag just before the woman closed the

door. Nash licked Maralee’s cheek and

dashed across the street to the doctor. He

startled the man when he grabbed the

sleeve of his coat between his teeth, but

Nash didn’t care. Maralee was in

desperate need of assistance. First

impressions were of no importance.

“My, aren’t you a large…er…dog?”

the man said as Nash pulled him across

the street. The doctor caught sight of

Maralee lying in the snow. Nash was now

the one being pulled across the street as

the man sprinted across the road.

“Oh my God,” the doctor said,

dropping down to his knees and touching

Maralee’s pale cheek with his knuckles.

“Maralee.”

He knew her? Nash hoped that was a

good sign.

The doctor opened his medical bag

and extracted a roll of bandages.

“What on earth?”

He examined the marks on the side of

her neck more closely. His blue eyes

hardened as he looked up at the Wolf

watching him anxiously.

“Did you do this to her?”

Nash shook his head and whined.

The doctor gave him a puzzled look,

but then turned his attention back to his

patient.

“I’ll need to stitch this,” he said. “Just

a few centimeters to one side or the other

and there would have been no stopping the

flow of blood. These wounds just missed

the major arteries in her neck.”

He secured a bandage around her

throat to slow the bleeding, while Nash

looked on worriedly. Once the bandage

was secured, the doctor stood. He bent to

lift her. Nash growled. The man took a

step backwards.

“I have to take her to the clinic,” he

said. “I don’t have the necessary

equipment with me. It’s too cold to leave

her here.”

Nash picked up the doctor’s medical

bag in his mouth. He waited for the man to

pick up ashen-faced Maralee.

“It’s almost as if you can understand

me,” he said with a nervous laugh. He

scooped Maralee into his arms and

headed down the road at a fast walk.

Nash trotted after him, watching

Maralee’s face for any signs of life. She

was as still as death. Nash suppressed his

urge to howl forlornly at the moon.

They stopped in front of a well-kept

brick building with a blue door and

awnings. The doctor fumbled with his

pocket while trying to balance Maralee in

his arms. Nash dropped the medical bag.

He buried his nose in the man’s pocket

and nudged the man’s hand aside. He

quickly located a small key with his teeth,

pulled it out of the pocket and placed it in

the man’s hand. The doctor stared down at

Nash in disbelief before inserting the key

in the lock. He unlocked and opened the

door before rushing into the clinic. The

man hurried through the lobby and into a

treatment room. Nash closed the front

door to keep out the cold air, picked up

the medical bag in his mouth, and

followed.

Nash found the doctor by following the

bright light given off by several kerosene

lamps. The man was cleaning Maralee’s

wound with a strange-smelling orange

substance. He then took up a surgical

needle and thread, and began to make the

small, neat stitches that would close the

wound. He noticed Nash standing just

inside the door watching him. Nash placed

the medical bag on the floor. He craned

his neck to look at Maralee.

“You should wait outside, Fido,” the

doctor said.

Fido?
Nash barked at him and came

further into the room. The man gave him a

curious look before turning back to his

task. “It looks like I won’t be able to

change your mind,” he said. “Just make

sure that you stay out of my light.”

Nash moved to the opposite side of the

narrow table. He licked Maralee’s hand

then rested his broad head on her abdomen

as he watched the doctor work. Once the

wound was closed the doctor tied off the

thread and clipped it close to her skin

with a small pair of scissors. He then

moved to the other side, the side Nash had

cleaned.

“A bandage should be enough to stop

the bleeding on this side,” the doctor said,

cleaning the wound with more orange

liquid and covering it with a thick stack of

bandages. He held them in place with one

hand, checking every minute or so to see if

the bleeding had stopped. He took this

time to examine Nash thoughtfully.

“You’re a smart dog,” he said.

“Maralee never told me that she had a

pet.”

Nash allowed the minor insult to pass

because he was so grateful to this man

who had helped Maralee, perhaps even

saved her life.

“Maybe you can tell me how to win

her heart.”

Nash growled at him, amber eyes

narrowed.

“Or not.” The doctor replaced the

bloody bandages with fresh ones and

secured them in place. “She’s lost a lot of

blood. The best thing for her right now is

plenty of sleep. Let’s move her to a more

comfortable bed.”

Nash wondered if the man always

talked to animals or only intelligent

Wolves. Nash followed the man as he

picked Maralee up and carried her into a

small room with a bed. The doctor

crossed the dark room and laid her down

before lighting a kerosene lamp on the

bedside table. Nash jumped up onto the

foot of the bed. He lay down next to

Maralee, resting his head on her hand. She

wouldn’t be in this condition if he hadn’t

hesitated for so long in calming the pack.

He should have known she would cast

aside her sword when she realized his

people were not monsters. He should have

had more faith in her. He licked her hand

—a feeble apology.

“I put out an advertisement for a nurse,

but none of the applicants have been able

to make it to the village in these terrible

weather conditions,” the doctor continued

to talk to Nash, as if he realized the Wolf

could understand him. He removed his

coat and rolled up his sleeves, before

leaving the room. When he returned with a

pile of linens and a basin of water, Nash

lifted his head to watch him. “I guess I

have to do this myself,” he said.

The doctor bent over Maralee and

untied the strings of her cloak. It was dark

in color, so bloodstains were unapparent,

her white shirt beneath, however, was

saturated with blood. The handsome young

doctor examined the leather gauntlets

covering her forearms and hands.

“What are these things?”

He found the strings holding them in

place and removed them. He dropped

them on the floor and lifted his hands to

her throat. When he began to unbutton

Maralee’s blouse, Nash hopped to his

feet. He stood over her, growling a

warning at the man. The doctor backed

away.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he said.

“I’m only going to make her more

comfortable.”

Nash couldn’t quite bring himself to

believe this. The man seemed to have a

romantic interest in Maralee. Nash wasn’t

going to stand by and watch him ogle her

naked body while she was unconscious.

Besides, he was too young to be a doctor,

too handsome, and entirely human.

“If I do anything inappropriate, you

can bite me.”

Nash watched him, wondering if he

was serious. Deciding he would take him

up on that offer, he moved back and sat

beside her on the bed. The doctor took a

hesitant step forward and extended a

trembling hand to the buttons of Maralee’s

blouse. Nash growled slightly with each

exhale, a reminder to the doctor that he

was watching him. Once the doctor had

her shirt unbuttoned, he rolled her onto her

side. He pulled one arm out of her stained

blouse and eased her cloak out from

beneath her. He then washed the blood

from her body with a wet cloth. He dried

her skin with a towel, seeming to take

extra care in keeping his touch platonic,

then rolled her onto her other side to fully

remove her blouse. He slid her arms into

the sleeves of an opened-backed gown

before reaching beneath the unflattering

garment and untying the strings that held