Debra L. Rollins - Revenge For the Huntsman

The day dawned misty and damp. Morning doves softly cooing drew Cierce from the warm den into the fresh air of a new day. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, grateful to be alive, abet in human form. Even the smells of the unknown kingdom were beat down under the weight of the heavy mist surrounding the small forest and the home of her cousins. It almost smelt like home and for a moment she closed her eyes to the truth, allowing herself to pretend she was at her own den again with her mother and siblings resting inside and not that of her cousins.

She opened her eyes to the truth and sighed deeply. One day she would be home again, but not with her own family. No, never again. She blinked back the tears forming with fierce determination. Now was not the time for melancholy. There was work to be finished…a promise to keep and unfortunately for her, Burly the Troll was part of that promise.

She scanned the surrounding area sharply, at the same time sniffing hundreds of enticing scents. Fortunately for her, none were Burly’s. She was positive she could smell him a good mile away. Which was good, she thought…for a bath was long overdue. Her human tongue was not adequate for cleansing herself. She would pick a pond or stream to bath and hope that the early mist would afford her enough privacy. Funny, as a wolf, modesty was unknown to her, but as a human it was the first thing that popped into her mind. The disadvantages of humanity were immense, but at least she was female. Some advantage was there, such as using her form and scent to entice the man guarding the door to the Wolf’s lair into letting her pass. She had no problems in entering the building or opening the door to his rooms. The Troll had taught her something at least. How to open a locked door with the help of a sharp object, such as her hat pin that Dooren said no smart woman left home without…even if she didn’t wear a hat.

Cierce’s little reticule held pertinent articles Dooren felt were important to have upon her journey. The pin, the mirror, a comb for her hair and a length of ribbon to tie it back with if she wished. The little Dwarf even included a tiny bottle of perfume, which Cierce refused to wear at the time. Turning human was bad enough, but to smell like one was too much.

She bade her cousins goodbye, thanking them in wolf fashion for their hospitality. She jumped back over the fence with ease, heading toward a small pond she vaguely remembered passing in her hurry to lose Burly the previous night. She left the confines of the zoo and retraced her steps to the small clearing where an abundance of honeysuckle grew wild, along with water reed and cattails, helping to hide the pond from view of curious eyes.

The ballgown slid to the ground in a soiled heap of silver and she entered the water. The pond was still warm from the previous day’s sun. It felt luxurious on her skin as she lay back and dipped her hair in its clear waters. She basked there for a time before pulling honeysuckle flowers from low hanging vines, crushing them till their fragrant juices filled her hand. She rubbed the substance through her hair and the crushed flowers over her skin to help cleanse her body. The smell would dissipate soon enough, for she had no wish to smell like a flower all day long. The honeysuckle would overpower her own natural scent, rendering her ineffective to the human males. It was one of her best weapons, one she did not wish to go long without.

Burly awoke, stretching out his long form to loosen up cramped muscles from the night’s slumber. From the looks of the camp, Jake must have packed up at the break of dawn, for there was no sign of the old human to be found. Perhaps it was for the best, for he had to get on the move and convince Cierce they needed to stick together. What was it that Jake said about women? Candy? Flowers? Candy he had none of, but flowers…he searched around the immediate vicinity, stopping not far from the animal prison’s front gate. Flowers seemed to grow abundantly in these woods. Some even had been given names, listed on a small sign below them. Which ones would Cierce like though? Women were indeed fickle…not easy to please at all.

As he stood there, contemplating the flowerbeds a movement caught his eye. He ducked behind a large flowering hibiscus as he watched Cierce slip silently over the fence and walk hurriedly into the depths of the forest he had just left. The wind blew away from him, so she did not smell him close by. Frantic not to lose her, he grabbed what flowers he could and ran after her.

For an early Sunday morning, Officers Radtke and Curry were kept pretty busy. Beyond the usual traffic citations, there had been a missing persons call…some wife phoning in to say her husband, Murray something, hadn’t been seen since Friday evening, and now vandalism near the old park zoo. The zoo was in route to the missing persons call, so they decided to stop in there first to talk with the zoo’s groundskeeper.

Upon arrival they were shown where dozens and dozens of flowers were ripped up and carried away to God knows where. Many lay trampled underfoot as whoever had taken them failed to take care where they stepped. The keeper was madder than hell. Some of his best roses were stolen or crushed in a ruined heap on the ground.

“You find who did this, understand?” he demanded. “All my work. Oh, my precious babies! They’re ruined…ruined, I say!”

“Yes, sir. We’ll do our best, sir.” Officer Curry said, trying to placate the keeper.

They jotted down what information they could on what was stolen, then left the man, grumbling under his breath, to clean up the aftermath. Whoever stole the flowers left a path of crushed petals, leading deeper into Central Park.

“This is too easy, Don.” Officer Curry motioned to the ground. “What kind of moron leaves a trail that obvious?”

“Don’t know, Mike. Bet’cha it’s nothing but some kids out picking some flowers for their momma. Hey, want to grab some coffee first? There’s a park vendor close by.”

“Okay, but let’s grab and go. We need to check out the missing person call first, and then we’ll come back here later. Those flowers aren’t going anywhere anyway.”

Burly lost sight of Cierce for ten minutes before he realized she was no longer following the forest path. He retraced his steps, dribbling petals as he went before he heard the sound of splashing water a short distance away. Although his hearing was not up to par with the enchanted wolf’s, it was, however, far better than any real human could detect.

He crept stealthily toward the sound coming from an over growth of honeysuckle, spreading the vines so he could see what lay beyond. A fine mist enshrouded the view before him so at first he saw nothing unusual, just a small pond with lily pads, some water insects, a few fat frogs singing a chorus and what looked to be a log of sorts floating towards the middle. That was strange, there was no current. So why was the log moving?

“Cierce?”

The log disappeared underwater, leaving in its wake a sputtering, spitting-mad female when she cleared the waterline.

“Burly Troll!” she choked out, trying to clear her airway. “How dare you sneak up on me! I…I could have drowned!”

He stepped out into the open and knelt down on the pond’s small bank, watching her as she rubbed water from her eyes.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he stated, grinning broadly at her predicament.

“How do you know that, you…you oaf?”

“Because I would have waded in and pulled you out.”

“Oh…” She fell silent for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah! Can’t have you go off and drown. I need you to help me bring back the witch, Virginia and the Wolf, so I can be my old Troll self again.”

A wad of slimey algae hit him square in the face, nearly gagging him. He grabbed for the nearest article to wipe it off, pausing halfway in the middle of cleaning his face by a loud shriek.

“My clothes!”

He pulled the cloth away from his face. Sure enough, the silver gown now sported a large, green smear near the hemline.

“How dare you!” she ranted, eyes flashing a warning. “Give me my dress this instant or I’ll bite you!”

Burly didn’t need another bite, especially from an ill-tempered, silver-haired, little wolf. So he did what she asked. He gave her the dress.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Cierce realized her mistake.

“NO!” she cried, but it was too late. The gown hit the water with a splat, scaring away the frogs nearby.

“Are you a complete idiot or just intentionally cruel, Troll?” she sobbed out. Now what was she to do? Her human emotions were beginning to get the best of her. She needed to change back…and soon. “Don’t be so rude! Help me out!”

Burly knelt back down to give her a hand up. She reached for it, grabbed hold and pulled as hard as she could. The young prince went flying forward, landing with a loud splash twenty feet away from the bank. Now it was his turn to break the surface of the water, just in time to see Cierce’s fair backside push through the reeds and honeysuckle lining the bank.

“Suck an Elf!” Here we go again, he groaned to himself. “Come back here, Cierce! Don’t run away again!”

He clambered from the pond, slipping a few times in his haste to get out. Trolls hated getting wet, let alone downright drenched. He lost sight of her totally in the reeds and vines. Perhaps now was a good time for his peace offering.

“Awww…come on, Cierce.” he called out. “I have something for you.”

A moment passed as he waded through a growth of cattails, wondering if she left again until a disembodied voice not but a few feet from him answered.

“Unfortunately, I need your help too,” she admitted reluctantly, frantically drawing the gown over her slim body, grimacing at the feel of the cold, wet material. She looked at him, eyes narrowed, then asked him out of sheer curiosity. “What do you have for me?” Quickly adding, “Not that anything you have to offer me would be the least bit interesting. After all, we are two totally different beings and Trolls are notorious as obnoxious creatures with no regard for other species or…or…”

She stepped from her hiding place onto a blanket of beautiful, multicolored petals softly cushioning her bare feet. She gazed down at them, speechless, her toes writhing in the velvety texture was sheer luxury. Where had they come from?

“Nicey-nice, huh?”

Burly stood a few feet from her holding something behind him. She took a step back as he moved forward, handing her the largest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen. Her arms were filled to overflowing, the flower’s stems scratched slightly, but the sheer beauty of the ivory petals made the pain worth the while.

“They’re called “Moonlit Night”. The name made me think of you.” Burly bent over a little to catch her expression, curious at her silence. Very unusual for the little vixen, he wasn’t sure if he trusted her.

“Don’t you like them?”

“I…I don’t know what to say. They’re beautiful! But why…?”

“A peace offering. The sooner we trap the Wolf and the witch, the sooner we go home, agreed?”

“Agreed, but…” She looked up, stopping in mid-sentence. The Troll was close…a few inches from her nose. She backed up, her heel happening upon a large thorn. She cried out in pain.

Roses flew everywhere as she grabbed for her foot, losing her balance. But she didn’t fall. Burly lunged forward, lifting her off her feet into his arms, quickly plucking the offending thorn from her heel. It was a small wound, nothing serious, unlike his own deeper bite. It would heal in no time without a scar.

The thorn was out, yet the Troll continued to hold her firmly in his arms. Cierce wriggled to free herself, her clinging, wet gown hampering her movements. She watched, mesmerized as he slowly lowered his head to hers. Closer…closer…until…

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling her head back and pushing his chest at the same time. He was making her nervous.

“I gave you flowers, we have “made up”. Now you have to forgive me by kissing me.”

“I will not! That is disgusting. Wolves don’t kiss, they nuzzle.”

“Neither do Trolls, but for the time, I am no longer Troll. Besides, kissing is nicey-nice. Much, much better than nuzzling.

“How do you know that? You have been human for only a short time…not nearly long enough to know a female who would…would…” Her eyes widened as the truth hit her. “You took advantage of me while I was unconscious?” Her eyes flashed silver and her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. She could feel her hackles rise in her ire. “How dare you touch me…you…you beast! Despicable, that is what you are! I ought to bite you! I ought to…to…”

She never finished her sentence. Burly swallowed her unspoken words as he swept her mouth with his, crushing her lips against his own. There, that ought to quiet the little vixen, he thought, very pleased with his fortitude at handling her outburst.

Cierce was in shock…for a moment. She struggled to be free as she felt his hands caress her back then roam freely over her hips. His breath was ragged and short as he groaned her name, then reluctantly let her loose, lowering her gently to the ground. They stood there, a tall, good-looking, young man in a dated suit and a striking, silver-haired young woman in a bedraggled gown, staring at one another, catching their breath.

“Now it’s time to find the witch and the Wolf, agreed?”

“Agreed,” she gasped out reluctantly, pressing a hand to her bruised lips. She really had to keep her distance from the troublesome Troll. There was no other explanation for his actions...her scent had to be affecting his reasoning. Why else would he act as if he…well, as if he were interested in her as a mate. She frowned. It was an absurd thought. They were after all, two totally different species. No! It had to be her scent, but the problem was...she sniffed her forearm...honeysuckle was the only smell she could detect at the moment.

Totally confused and unsure of herself, she followed the tall Troll from the park and into the awakening streets of New York City.