I'm blinded by fear as I race through the castle halls. All I can think is, go! Get away! Run! Quickly!
So I do.
Across the halls. Down the staircase. Through the front door.
I'm outside before I even realize it, racing down the front steps of the castle and diving into the main stretch of the town. I've gazed at these streets from above for the past few days, so I know if I follow this road it will lead me to a gate, it will lead me away. And that's where I have to go. Away. Home. To another city. Anywhere but here in this castle with that monster.
My eyes stay straight ahead. I don't allow them to focus on the wolves and bears watching me as I dash by. The animals become little more than dark shadows in my peripheral. My vision tunnels on the open iron gate just visible at the end of the street. And once I'm through it, my world is washed in white. Snow covers every inch of the land. I pass by icy trees as my feet sink deeper with each step. My breath grows short as my muscles scream at me with exertion. But I don't stop. The mountains begin to incline, but still I keep going.
Then I trip on a rock.
I fall, landing wrists first against the ground. Frost stings my exposed skin and a deep freeze sinks into my bones when the snow wraps around me. As the adrenaline leaves my system, the sweat on my arms brings a chill to my muscles. The silent forest is filled with the clatter of my shivering teeth and the puff of my breath as I blow warm air into my palms. Only then do I realize how cold it is. How lost I am. And how low the sun has begun to hang in the sky.
Only then do I realize my mistake.
I turn, but there is nothing but ivory stretching out in every direction. The gently falling snow has begun to pick up. I could follow my footsteps back toward the castle, but I'm not sure if it would be any safer there or if I should take my chances with the wilderness. More so, I'm almost certain my fatigued body would give out before I made it back.
Survival instincts take over. Magic burns to life in my chest, providing some warmth, but not enough. I focus on the ground below me, forcing flowers to grow through the frozen soil, willing them to lift higher and spread wider until the space beneath my feet is cleared of snow and replaced with a small patch of color. Still shivering, I sit and wrap the cloak tightly around me. It’s warm, but not warm enough to keep the wintry breeze out. So I concentrate on something that might. Bushes spring to life, surrounding me like a wall against the chill. I twist and turn the branches until they meet overhead, blocking out the light but also the wind, leaving me in shadows. Then I hug my knees to my chest, trying to use my breath to keep my frigid body warm.
For a while, I think it might work.
Then the wind picks up.
The flurries turn to icy pellets.
Freezing water drips through the cracks in the bushes, soaking into my clothes.
In what little light I have, I notice my fingertips are turning a dangerously pale shade, and I've begun to lose feeling. When I press my hand to my nose, the tip feels like ice. Just when I'm about to shift the plants away, to admit defeat and try to find my way back to the castle, a thunderous voice stops me.
"Omorose!"
It’s him. He followed me.
I hug my knees closer to my chest, as if to hide myself more.
"I don't want to hurt you!" he shouts. "I'm." He pauses. "I'm sorry. Please, you have to come with me." His voice is getting louder. He's coming closer. "You'll die out here. On a night like this, you'll never survive."
I know he's telling the truth.
But I can't fight the fear churning in my gut. It overwhelms me. And when I close my eyes, I don't see a man calling my name. I see a monstrous bear with saliva falling from gleaming teeth. I see my doom.
"Omorose?"
This time it is little more than a whisper. He's right next to my hideout. I can hear him breathing. My fingers tremble. Snow crunches as he steps in a circle around me. I'm caught. I'm trapped.
Then I hear that little girl again.
Fight! she whispers in the back of my mind. Fight back!
And I remember that I'm strong.
I'm powerful.
And I don't want to run away any longer.
My magic acts on reflex. One moment I am cowering. And the next, the bushes around me have recoiled and vines are ripping free of the ground, soaring toward the beast, sharp with thorns. He leaps away, quick on his feet. The hood of his cloak falls, but with his back turned to me, I only notice jet-black hair before I sink deeper into the magic, too wrapped up in the power to notice anything else. I am one with those prickly branches lashing out at the beast. More rise from the ground, sprouting from everywhere at once, surrounding him like a spiky cell. They sink closer, shrinking around his form until sharp edges press against his skin.
Have I caught the beast?
But a howl blasts through the air, loud enough that it seems to vibrate over the mountains. As the sound stretches, it turns into a furious roar. The black cloak ripples, warping and changing, until the same bear from before bursts to life. Claws slash, ripping the vines apart. Thick branches snap like little more than twigs. In seconds, my trap is shredded apart.
Then the bear turns toward me.
Breath smokes from his flared nostrils. Deep, gray eyes barrel down on me, storm clouds churning, dark and dangerous.
He takes a step forward.
I stumble back. My chest begins to hurt as the cost of my magic slowly takes its toll. Waves of fire and ice roll through me as my life is methodically stripped away by the curse. But I keep the magic burning. I bite back the pain.
Vines break through snow, stretching into the sky.
The beast wipes them away easily.
But I keep throwing them at him. It's the only thing I can think of. My magic is supposed to be beautiful and gentle. It's not made for battle. But he is. Everything about him screams weapon. Blood drips from his limbs and paws as thorns carve into his flesh. Bright red droplets stain the snow. But he continues moving forward, unrelenting.
I know the exact moment he tires of this game.
A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest. He pauses for just an instant. Then he leaps across the space between us, opening his jaws wide, as though to swallow me whole.
Magic surges through me.
A pine tree erupts from the ground, exploding into the world like a bomb as snow and dirt are sent flying. In less than a second, it stretches fifty feet high, trunk growing thicker and thicker. Time slows. I fall back on the ground, strength depleted.
A deafening crack fills the air.
The beast slams into the tree at full force, shattering the sturdy wood. The ground shakes when his heavy form drops down.
Then silence.
Long, lingering silence.
I stand cautiously, peering through the falling snow toward the unmoving body on the ground.
Is he dead?
Did I kill him?
The idea provides no comfort. Instead, anxiety racks through me. My lips quiver and my head begins to shake back and forth with denial. I meant to stop him. I meant to show him I could fight back, that I was strong too. I never meant to…to kill him. Did I?
I bite my lip as my heart skips a beat.
Am I a murderer?
"No!" I gasp.
And then I'm running across the small space, falling on my knees beside his motionless limbs. The bear is gone. And with the cloak pulled away, I finally see the beast for who he really is instead of the creature my fear turned him into.
Not a monster.
Not a king.
A man.
Young, just like me.
I drop my ear to his chest, listening desperately, sighing when I hear the gentle thump of his heartbeat.
Not dead.
Knocked out, but not dead. At least not yet.
Relief floods through me. I'm not a killer. Not a monster. And looking down at him, I'm beginning to wonder if maybe the beast isn't either. With eyes closed in sleep, he looks so gentle and innocent. Before I realize what I'm doing, my palm reaches down to cup his cheek. His skin is soft. The heat of it warms my frigid fingers. But it's not smooth. His face is laced with delicate scars, some deeper than others. But he is so pale the lines are almost translucent. Except for three severe cuts on either side of his forehead, healed-over gashes slicing deeply through his temples. They're nearly symmetrical, cutting into his hairline just above both of his ears. My fingers drift up, tracing his mutilated skin, before drifting higher to run through his coarse onyx hair. It feels like velvety fur.
A soft purr distracts me.
I look over my shoulder into a set of bright golden eyes. They look human. They look woefully concerned. But it's the body of a snow leopard that slinks toward me, nearly camouflaged by the falling snow. For the first time, I'm not afraid. Its thick paw nudges the beast, but he doesn't stir.
"He's alive," I assure the animal.
Those golden eyes find mine again, filled with understanding—far more understanding than any animal's should be. But before I have time to process, howls reach my ears, mournful cries that pierce the air and echo toward me. Over my shoulder, gray shadows appear in the distance, growing larger and more distinct, until a pack of wolves emerges from the shadows, running closer. They don't stop until they surround us, all eyes on the beast.
An undeniable sense of love permeates the space.
I'm the outsider once again.
But more than that, I'm the cause of all their worry.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so very sorry. He frightened me. I got scared, and I just acted out of instinct. I didn't mean…"
They're wild animals, but they don’t lash out for vengeance, they don't let their gut reactions control them. In fact, they hardly notice me.
The lead wolf steps beside me, nuzzling the beast's neck, so close I could reach out and pet the fluffy white fur on the underside of its belly. Steam escapes its parted lips as the wolf licks the beast's cheek, trying to wake him. It whines a sad, screechy sound when the beast doesn't move. And then it looks over its shoulder to the rest of the pack. Without needing to speak, they march forward, determined. While the leader watches, the rest of the wolves dig into the snow, deep enough so they can crawl beneath the beast's body. They wriggle under, matting their coats with dirt and frost, and then stand with his heavy weight stretched across them. His hands fall to either side, leaving his fingertips to brush against the ice while they walk away. I follow the red traces of blood dripping from his skin, unable to look away.
When they disappear into the depths of the storm, I finally remember how cold I am. My skin trembles. But I can't move. I stare into the emptiness, utterly torn, remembering the beast's last words to me.
I don't want to hurt you.
On a night like this, you'll never survive.
I was too blinded by fear to realize it, but he was out here to save me. To bring me back to the warmth of the castle, not to hunt me down and hurt me. Only after I attacked did he unleash the beast within.
But before, the way he laughed so harshly at my silent dance.
The way he slammed his fist into my door when I wouldn’t let him in.
The way he attacked me for touching that glowing woman.
No, I don't trust him.
But, I realize confidently, I no longer fear him.
And I can't ignore the fact that I'm intrigued. By him. By the mysteries of his kingdom. By the whisper in the back of my mind telling me that maybe it was the beast who found me in that field a few days ago, who held me in his strong, sturdy arms, whose touch whispered that I'd finally found a place I might belong.
A soft downy head presses into my palm, and I realize I had forgotten about the leopard with the golden eyes. It nudges my leg, but I don’t understand. It nudges again. But I don't move. Then it growls, looking up at me with a hint of frustration, and starts to walk away.
I try to follow, but my feet are frozen. My body has no strength. The shivers grow unbearable. And with nothing to distract me, the weariness mounts. Between the escape, the cold, the storm, the battle, and the toll of my magic, my body shuts down. I slink slowly toward the ground, utterly fatigued.
In one leap, the giant cat is beneath me, catching me before I fall. I'm not very large or very heavy, so it waits patiently for me to crawl onto its back before carrying me away. I breathe in the warmth of its fur, letting the heat of its body course through me. And together we travel through the storm.