Magia Posthuma ✓

Six

Irina slid down from her saddle and steadied herself as her boots crunched into the frosty undergrowth. She knew it probably wasn't sensible to dismount and go wandering alone in the depths of a foreign forest, but she was saddle sore and decided that she'd rather freeze to death than wait around for Prince Lupesci to come galloping back to rescue her.

The horse grunted – its breath fogging around its muzzle – as Irina scooped up the reins and calmly walked it over to a nearby tree. Above her – through a tangle of branches and pine needles laden with snow – the light was fading quickly, a smattering of stars peeking through a clear pink and purple blanket. She tried to remember which way the hunting party had travelled after leaving town; if she could remember, she had a wild idea that she might try and navigate her way back by the stars. She'd read about it in a book once. Was it east? She wasn't sure, and even if she was, the thick, forest canopy only allowed her a glimpse of the evening sky. Not enough for it to be a suitable map.

Folie whimpered and licked her lips as Irina tied off the horse.

"Shh, it's alright," she called out as she spun around, comforting the dog with a quick ear scratch.

But was it? She was lost and alone in the middle of an unfamiliar forest in a land a long way from home, and as she rubbed her arms against the creeping cold she peered around the small clearing and found nothing but dark, dense forest in every direction she looked.

Feeling a sting in her cheek, Irina lifted her gloved fingertips and pressed them to her skin. When she pulled them away, they were spotted with fresh blood. "...Damn," she muttered, wincing as she dabbed at her cheek.

She was contemplating retracing her own tracks back through the forest when suddenly the horse shrieked and shuffled backwards – nodding its head and grinding its muzzle as it pulled against the reins.

Irina reached out and touched its neck. "Whoa, shh!" she soothed, smoothing its mottled, grey skin. "It's alright!"

But the horse continued to struggle, thrashing its head as it tried to tug itself free. It bucked and brayed, beating its hooves in panic, its brown eyes wide.

"What's the matter with you?" Irina scolded as she scrambled to reach the reins. "Enough!"

And then she heard Folie growling behind her.

Irina turned quickly. Folie was a gentle, playful soul; she'd never heard her make such a noise – that slow, rolling growl – and when she turned, she was surprised to find her snarling like a lion at something creeping in the shadows up ahead.

A wolf.