"What are we waiting for?" she whispered to the man on her right.

He acted more her guard than an escort. Every move she made since leaving home, he watched with too much interest.

The man didn't answer. She considered she hadn't spoken loud enough. He turned away from her with a suddenness that startled her horse.

"Shhh..." She leaned forward and stroked the animal's neck.

The thick canopy of dense treetops of the Black Forest prohibited the moon's full glow. The best light they had came from the torches her two escorts carried. Yet, the flames provided no help in seeing what came for them.

She trembled and flinched at the snap of a branch. A dead twig on the ground had her rattling from head to toe. She swiveled in her saddle. Her ears pricked to the intensity of the increasing rumble. An alarming fear of the unknown ran shivers throughout her limbs. Blood chilled in her veins as if death approached on a roaring gale.

The two men stared blindly into the bleak darkness. They were her escort to Dragomir Keep and while they appeared capable by size, she felt uneasy by their nervousness equaling hers.

Galena shifted in her saddle, nervous and watchful. The men altered the placement of their weight in their seats while straining their necks in search of evil. Though, she didn't think it was possible to catch sight of the devil's path.

At the approaching riot of sounds, the man to her right yelled, "Come and get us you beasts of terror!"

Galena squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to block out the madness surrounding her. The man invited trouble and she couldn't stop the devastation.

"We're not afraid of you or your kind, Wolvraine!" the man that would not answer before shouted with too much fervor.

She wondered if he didn't like his life. Only a man wanting to die boasted with the courageous zeal of immortality.

Her horse pranced in place with a jittery sidestep. The wait seemed too long for something to happen and her fingers ached from her fisted hold on the reins.

"Let your pack of wolves show themselves," the man challenged again.

Galena opened her eyes and stared with disbelief at the lunacy of her escorts.

"Are you insane, man?" She twisted her head in the direction of the sudden snort of a horse in the thick woods behind.

Fine wisps of her hair fluttered in the night breeze and dropped with the abrupt hush of nature. The immediate chill licked at her nerve-dampened skin and then warmed. Her breasts tightened. Her nipples spiked. An ominous breath resounded around her and she couldn't discern if it was man or beast.

"Would you have us bow our head for the slaughter?" the man next to her argued.

Her fist clenched on the reins until her fingernails dug into her cold palms.

"Stop," her plea whispered from her parted lips.

She watched the fool charge into the oncoming eerie mist of large, menacing shadows. The man rose up in the leather stirrups, lifting from his saddle with neither grace nor good judgment. A silver streak slashed the blackness where a moonbeam illuminated a large steel weapon. It flashed lightning-swift and the guard came unseated from his horse. His scream of death echoed and faded into a gruesome silence.

The second man, no more intelligent than the first, rushed the demon horde. Galena shut her eyes again. She refused to open them when the second shriek of reverberating terror pierced the air. Her nerves were too shattered with the swelling fear.

The unexpected, baleful silence provided little comfort when she knew something awaited her in the darkness.

"Kill the Gypsy whore." Men rushed from the darkness and charged her horse.

She turned the animal away, but the path was blocked.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She backed up.

"We'll not let a Gypsy use her magic to get a Romanian to marry her, especially the master wolf hunter."

Several men grabbed her reins. Another grabbed her skirt in an attempt to pull her from the horse. Galena swung her foot at one and hit him in the face. She jerked the reins free from the man holding onto her horse and gave a swift kick to the flanks of the animal.

Afraid of the mob preventing her from riding home, she headed deeper into the forest. She aimed for Dragomir Keep to find her betrothed. She didn't know him, but the marriage was his idea. He'd not let the people of his village harm her.

Her horse snorted and shuffled in agitation when she slowed. The trundle of steps upon the leaf-strewn forest floor alerted her to someone coming near. Her heart hammered hard, bruising her ribs. At the sudden snarling growl, her pulse skipped a few beats.

Galena stopped the horse. She tried not to panic, but the heat of something breathed on her ankle. She glanced down at a large black wolf. He watched her while pacing restlessly. Each fretful step her horse took, the wolf repositioned its stance.

Galena's fingers went numb from the grasp she had on the reins in her sweaty palms. She wanted to look away from the entrapment of the hypnotizing stare. The wolf's lips curled and receded each time she backed her horse an inch. Yellow fangs hung long and dangerous when he snarled again. Her horse tried to retreat from the threat, except something, or someone, prevented her from moving.

Observing the area, she spied silhouettes of other wolves. They all stood wary, appraising her. She listened to their heavy breathing, like harsh whispers among men. Did they debate or decide her fate?

Galena forced her mind to form a semblance of control over her destiny.

Lay with the wolf, accept him, and thou shall survive.

Lay with the wolf, with his breed witnessing, and he shall live.

An old prophesy from her past swam through her head. The cryptic nonsense never made sense. She had never understood if the words were real or imagined in a dream. The thought of them now, comforted her with a strangeness she didn't appreciate.

Galena swung her head to review the area. Worse than death, she worried what they planned for her. She worried what her mind kept insisting she needed to be a part of.

When a dark, leather-gloved hand reached for the halter on her horse, she pulled back to avoid capture. The assailant moved a swift arm toward her and she flinched. She wouldn't die without a fight. At the very least, she wouldn't die in submissive surrender.