The Warlock's Woman

The Wolf howled long and loud. He stood at the crest of the hill, overlooking the valley where the dense forest , the tall trees gleamed eerily in the light of the Crimson Moon. He was a large creature, streaked silver and black. His glossy body was bathed in the moonlight, and he howled again, pouring out his grief and his sorrow to the Moon.

Suddenly, a sound disturbed him; the crackling of the twigs underfoot as a little figure burst into the clearing below him suddenly. It was a young woman, little more than a teenager, crashing wildly through the trees. Her long red hair flowed out behind her like a banner, and even as far away as he was, he could sense her terror as she fled. The Wolf narrowed his silver eyes as he watched her, his head swinging to seek the source of her blind terror.

The wild whooping of men as they chased the little figure made him stiffen, his head cocked to the side as he followed their progress.

Three men. And all of them were pursuing one young woman who, even as he watched, stumbled and fell onto a bed of dry leaves.

His gaze sharpened; he knew she could not move, could not flee, as she struggled to her knees helplessly. Yet, even from this distance, he could sense her determination to fight the men.

The Wolf looked back at her, something in her awakening his deep instincts.

*

Cara

I ran blindly in the darkness, guided by the moonlight that could be seen in patches through the thick undergrowth. I was panting, and there was a severe stitch in my side as I shot headlong through the dense woods. My feet hurt; I had lost my shiny new shoes somewhere behind me, but they would have been of no use anyway. The ground was hard, and the small stones made me lose my balance many times. The soles of my feet were torn and bruised, but I kept on running and panting.

I seemed to have tunnel vision, focusing purely on getting away , running from the young men who were chasing me.

The sounds of the youths following me seemed clearer; they were getting closer.

One of them was yelling,

"Where's that f*cking bit*h?'

A loud hoot echoed as one of them began to yell,

"We're coming for you, baby!"

That was Warren.

*

He was the oldest of the group and the one I feared the most with his pale green eyes that stripped your clothes away with his lecherous gaze. His long blonde hair flopped onto his face and most of the girls thought he was hot and a hunk worth dying for.

Not me.

I had disliked him on sight.

His swagger and the way he treated the girls with him, using them like objects to be used and then discarded, had made me see red.

Circulating in student parties, a girl draped over each arm, both of whom he ignored royally as he flirted with the other girls present. Only to touch and grope his girls when he felt like it.

He had probably sensed my dislike. But that had only egged him on and made him want to break me.

He was, after all, one of the elite in the college, the son of old Johnson, who owned half of Smokey Valley, the little university town I stayed at. The nearest city was Holloway, but it was miles away. Smokey Valley was a little kingdom where the Johnson family reigned supreme.

Warren was very aware that he was the scion of the business empire that included the lowly diner my mom worked at and the local newspaper where my stepdad Brian was employed. Perhaps it had been my disdain that had made me seem attractive to him. But something about the fellow made my skin crawl. And the more I tried to avoid him, the more he kept appearing, trying to make me another of his conquests.

'Hey Red!' he would call as I walked past, trying to blend into the background and avoid him.

He kept addressing me as Red because of my flame-coloured curly hair that came down to my waist. I generally braided it or wore it in a messy bun. But he had noticed the shiny tresses I desperately tried to disguise and never forgot to shout out "Red!' to draw attention to my hair.

Knowing that I hated it.

When I glared at him, he pretended to drop dead.

Hooting, "the Green Eyed Monster's in town," his friends and he would double over in laughter as I hurried away, my ears burning.

I had green eyes to go with my flame-coloured hair and a skin tone that coloured at the slightest provocation. And yes, a temper to match. But I was also wise enough to know that I had to keep a lid on my anger when I was around Warren Johnson; he was constantly goading me. And God knows where that would get me!

What I would have done to punch the fellow in the gut, I kept thinking, seething impotently.

But that was not to be.

Warren Johnson was definitely not a young man used to being ignored.

And I was discovering it the hard way tonight.

*

NOW

I fell forward and landed hard on my side. Stifling a cry of pain as something sharp dug into my side, I looked around wildly. The slope of the hill was in semi-darkness but since it was a full moon night, I would be revealed anytime now. I tried to stand up without making a lot of noise but almost shrieked in pain as my foot gave out beneath me. I had probably sprained my ankle during my mad dash through the dark forest, I thought, my heart sinking.

I all but bowed my head, thrusting my fist in my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds as I sobbed.

This was the end.

Why, I asked myself bitterly, Why had I allowed myself to be persuaded to attend the bonfire by Janice Stewart? It wasn't like she was my best friend or something. We just walked to school together sometimes because her mother worked at the same diner as mine.

And I had no friends at school, no one I could spend time with and open my heart to. Janice came closest to that but she was so enamored of the boys.

I knew they called her the Old Bike behind her back because she would eagerly oblige any boy with sexual favours if he happened to so much as look at her. I had overheard the snide remarks by the other girls. Jan had already been knocked up twice before and had got rid of the fetus early enough.

Her poor mother was clueless.

I sometimes felt a surge of pity for her. Poor Janice was desperate to be popular. And she would stop at nothing to make that happen. She had already slept with any boy who wanted her, even when she knew that they were only using her. I felt sorry for her, but there was no way I was going to be like her.

I did not care a hoot for anyone's opinion, especially that of my unpleasant stepfather, who had reduced my mother to a shadow of what she had been before she married him. She had been a laughing, cheerful woman; he had reduced her to a woman who lived in abject terror of him and his preachy sermons. And his fleshy fists.

Mom had been a bright spirit when Dad was alive; his sudden death in an accident had left us destitute, unable to pay the mortgage on the home we had purchased.

Overnight, we were penniless, and when Brian O'Neill had come into our lives, Mom had married him. For stability, for a better life for me, I guessed. How wrong she had been!

*

He behaved the way an outstanding pillar of the church should, in his opinion. Pompous old creep, I thought mutinously. But he would pounce on my mother for every single thing.

'The toast is too crisp, you dumb cow!' or' Do you expect me to eat this, you stupid woman ?' he would yell, flinging the offensive piece of bread at my poor mother, who would stand, trembling and meek, silent, her head bowed.

I did not want to be like her, working my feet off in a diner, too scared to stand up to a monster like Brian O'Neill. it was not as though I had not urged her to leave him. But she would stand, her arms in the soap suds in the kitchen, staring out into thedark night as she mumbled in a dull voice,

"I love him and he loves me too, darling..."

*.

I wanted to study and move out of the small, claustrophobic life at Smokey Valley.

And I was studying hard for a scholarship that would see me make my way to University at Hampton, the large city that beckoned me like a breath of fresh air.

I was going to become a lawyer, and yes, a home baker on the side, for I had inherited my mother's enviable culinary skills and could bake a mean cake!

*

Now, as I lay in the bed of leaves, my fists stuffed in my mouth, I wondered how I had made such a mistake.

Cara

It had been Janice who had dragged me to the bonfire.

She had literally begged me to come; her mother, she had said, would never allow her to accompany the group that was heading to the edge of Raven's Woods for a campfire if she went alone. I knew her mother, Maude, a sweet-natured woman who often looked at her rail-thin daughter with her rainbow-tinted highlights with a mixture of exasperation, worry, and affection.

Maude was the one who would lend a silent shoulder on the days when Mother was weeping helplessly, broken, and defeated by the hateful Brian.

Maude's man had walked out years ago and Janice had never had a father in her life. Which was probably why she threw herself at members of the male species with such desperation, I reasoned cynically.

Maude would sometimes gently beg me to 'Keep an eye out on Jan.' I went along, although deep down, I did not like the crass and spiteful Janice. I knew instinctively that she disliked me. But she hid it to a large extent, sneering at me on the side, but that was all.

My mother was too weary that day to protest; Brian had been particularly obnoxious the previous night, and her face was swollen with weeping from a brutal thrashing he had ladled out.

Reluctantly, I had tagged along.

*

It had been dusk when we arrived at the campsite.

Sounds of girls giggling and boys shouting filled the air. The smoke from the fire was intense, and I wondered warily what would happen if we started a forest fire.

Raven's Wood was a little away from Smokey Valley. it was a small forested town, surrounded by the mountains and the forest, a dense growth of trees that were beautiful to look at in the winter and during the day. But at night, they loomed at the edges, threateningly. I shivered as I walked with Janice. We had taken a bus to the town and then hitched a ride with a friend of Jan's to get here.

Silhouetted against the flickering lights of the fire, I could make out bodies swaying. There were a lot of people. Loud music on speakers that blared, making conversation difficult.

I slowed down as I trotted behind Janice.

Slowly, the truth hit me.

This was not a campfire outing at Raven's Woods organized by the social group of the school we attended, as Janice had led me to believe.

It was a private gathering.

She had squeezed her thin self into a tiny outfit, and despite the cold air, she was pulling off her jacket as she walked. I blushed as I saw her outfit. It was barely capable of hiding her tiny breasts.

I was doubly conscious of myself in my blue top and jeans. The top was one that I considered to be daring, but in comparison with Jan's clothes, or rather, lack of them, I looked like a nun in a habit!

And even worse, as I was to find out when I heard his voice, it was a gathering organized by ...yes, who else?

My heart began to pound, and a headache began at my temples.

Warren Johnson.

I turned to Janice, my eyes wide in panic, tugging her arm as I hissed in horror.

"Jan! It's a party by Warren?'

She shook my hand off sulkily and took a step back, tugging at the straps of her dress, lowering the neck of her outfit to reveal her non-existent breasts.

The expression on her face surprised me.

It was something between derision and hate. And a kind of exultation. Like the expression of a sadist who has sighted a cornered animal and is preparing to torture it.

"Yeah, so what?' she said rudely, and my face paled.

'I mean, you are a real bitch most times, with your nose in your books and thinking yourself to be better than the likes of us other girls.'

Taking a step backwards, I stared at her, open-mouthed, my heart thudding as I grasped the fact.

I had been set up by the only girl I had trusted at school!

Her small eyes narrowed spitefully as she went on, a sly look on her face as she came closer and said, bringing her face close to mine, and hissed in triumph.

"You know something? When I told Warren that you were a virgin, he got all excited.'

She giggled, an ugly, jarring sound. I could feel the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, but I would never cry before this hateful girl.

Jan was older than me She was one of those kids who had lost her virginity when she was young, eager to be accepted, and had traded the only thing she had, that was her body.

And she had made her contempt evident on many occasions.

I was a prude for not having slept with a boy before the ripe old age of seventeen!

She went on, eager to spill her poison.

" Yeah. Him and the other boys too.'

My eyes widened.

"You don't need to look so shocked, Miss High and Mighty," she sneered.

"Maybe you might just enjoy it.'

Again, that ugly giggle.

And with a final parting shot, she snickered,

" I wish I could see you when those guys are doing a twosome on you! '

Again that hateful snigger as she went on,

"Or maybe, a threesome, how 'bout that, Miss F*cking Virgin?'

*

With a raucous laugh, she danced away, throwing me a look over her shoulder that left me in no doubt.

Suddenly, I was all alone in a crowded place.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to slap her...

But she had disappeared in the crowd, and I was stranded.

My knapsack landed on the ground with a thump, but I was barely aware of it. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I looked around for a friendly face-any familiar face. But there was no one. All the girls were the ones in the skimpiest of clothes, the ones who hung around the boys for attention.

Almost sobbing with terror, I turned around frantically.

And I met Warren Johnson's eyes. Gloating in triumph.

When I saw the smirk on the repulsive Warren's face, I guessed the truth. With a sinking heart, I realized that Janice had probably been asked to make sure that I came along. She had whined and wailed, and I had fallen for it-more fool I!

I now knew that I had been lured here.

Too furious to stay longer, I turned to try to leave, only to realize that the ride we had come with had blended into the throng of gyrating bodies, dancing wildly. Just everyone seemed to be high on drugs, and I began to panic.

What had I been thinking of?

An entire evening with these doped kids? Sorry, I wasn't interested.

Cara

I sat huddled in a corner, in the outer circle of the dancers, not daring to leave the circle of people.

There was not a single person I could turn to in that group, but I was too scared of drifting away or dozing off in one of the tents that had been erected. And I did not have the heart to sway to the loud music. So I sat, huddled and cold, trying hard not to cry, wishing I was anywhere but in that wretched place.

I had seen Jan, half naked and sozzled, as she sat in the midst of a group of young men, giggling as they groped her openly, their hands all over her. I gave a shudder of disgust.

When she had gone down on her knees before one of them, they had dragged her away, half-naked and still giggling foolishly. She had been led off by them into the woods, lurching and still cackling

.

I hated to think of what she was up to.

***

I stared moodily into the fire, my knees drawn up, my arms clutching my knees tightly, and my chin resting on them. I shivered as a particularly cold gust of wind blew, howling as it circled the area.

The faraway sound of a wolf carried over the air, and I listened with half an ear.

The outer edge of the group around the campfire was dark and menacing, seeming, in my imagination, to be closing in around us.

I shuddered again.

There was no way I was going to shut my eyes even for a minute, I told myself determinedly. There were always some of the people in the group who would remain smoking and warbling till the wee hours of the morning, keeping to the warmth of the fire. The ones who were not with their lovers and were pretending that being outcasts was cool.

Grimly, I pushed away the tendrils that had come free of my neat braid.

The minute the light broke, I thought crossly, rubbing my hands over my arms, that I was heading back to town.

The main highway was a walk away, but it would be safer in the daytime.

My thoughts were rudely broken by a chorus of voices approaching and one particular sing-song voice that never ceased to annoy me.

Now it brought a hollow of dread and a glimmer of fear that grew in the pit of my stomach. The vivid red birthmark on the underside of my left breast began to throb, a sure sign that trouble was approaching.

***

Warren and his cronies had turned up. They began to circle me like animals, scenting prey, jeering, and making lewd comments.

In one glance, it was possible to make out that Warren was drunk. He stood swaying, holding a bottle of beer in his hand but smelling of some stronger spirit. There was something sweet and cloying that clung to his clothing as he approached me.

He had also been snorting some substance, I thought, my heart pounding.

***

Stubbornly, I reassured myself that I was safe. Warren could not , would not touch me before the other people there.

Naïve, that was what I was.

Wearing an ugly grin, Warren appeared, blocking my view and effectively shutting me out from the group around the campfire With a sinking heart, I realised that no one would dare to challenge him.

I was utterly, totally alone.

***

"Well, boys,' he sneered, 'Looks like Little Red here isn't having much fun.'

His companions, who I recognized as my tormentors at school, laughed loudly. It seemed to embolden him and he came closer. I recoiled instinctively but it only seemed to amuse him.

'Shall we give her a good time or what, eh?' he leered openly and reached out to grab my wrist and haul me to my feet.

I lashed out wildly, taking him by surprise.

The moment I did it, I knew I had made a huge mistake.

People like Warren Johnson did not take lightly to being made a fool of in public. And I had rejected his advances, publicly, at his own party.

***

The ugly look on his face signaled trouble. I knew he was going to teach me a lesson now for rejecting his advances repeatedly.

He lunged forward as I shot up to my feet, turning to run.

When Warren grabbed me, I moved away and my old lace blouse ripped with a loud sound, exposing my back. The look of pure lust on his face as he took in my curvy body scared me more than I cared to think.

Turning blindly, I rushed into the forest behind me. The darkness yawned out in a sinister manner and at any other time, I would have thought twice before rushing headlong into the woods which had a frightening history. But I was desperate and I would have run into a fire to get away from them.

It turned out to be a mistake.

I was terrified and the sounds of my pursuers as they chased me, hooting and shouting, only made the panic in me swell.

I felt a presence with me, a Thought whispered in my head,

'Run, Cara, just keep running. Don't look back. Keep running.'

My father's voice, I thought frantically.

*

Panting, sobbing with exertion and fear, the knowledge that they would be rough and not spare me if they caught me, made me keep on.

So I ran wildly, tripping, falling only to get up and rush. The darkness seemed to reach out to me, the branches whipped my hair and face. It stung but with a sob, I continued.

Till I tripped over a particularly sharp branch that lay in my path and fell onto a pile of stones that had been hidden by dry foliage.

And found that I could not stand up: I had twisted my ankle.

Painfully.

***

The sound of the young men drew nearer.

Just that was when the moon chose to emerge from behind a cloud, revealing me as I lay on the ground, unable to rise to my feet and flee.

In all it's glory, the Crimson Moon shed its light over the countryside, bathing the dark woods in a strange shade of electrifying maroon.

Large and glowing red like a piece of burning hot iron, the moonlight bathed the woods in a strange, sanguine, almost molten glow,magical in appearance.

My bright red mane of hair and my brilliant blue cropped top were not exactly camouflage material, and I thrust my fist into my mouth as the three men emerged at the crest of the hill.

They spotted me almost at once.