Getting to know FayLane:

Fay Lane has scribbled stories since her chubby fingers could clutch a pencil. These days, she uses those same chubby fingers to type slightly more coherent yarns and inflict them on Wattpad

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Tess felt the bite of winter like a razor between her ribs.

As always, it was a bitter, howling night. Her breath hung ghostly in the air.

Tess' ruby red cloak was all that stood between her and the elements, and it was more for show than warmth. She shivered, drawing it close.

Her gown caressed the frozen ground as she hurried along the path. Trees stretched blackened fingers, reaching to pluck the bloom of color from her cheek. It seemed, on this coldest of midnights, that she was the only living thing astir in that forest.

Like Spring come early to her garden, Tess wandered among hungry, dead things. She tread softly, so as not to wake them.

Tess wished Nana had come, but the old woman's joints were gnarled by arthritis and she could no longer dance. Nana had never been chosen. She'd grown old, and thin, and weary of life.

Tess dreaded such a fate—but to be chosen?

That would be worse.

She came to a fork in the path and halted.

You could go left, her mind whispered treacherously. You could take that path, to the city, to another life—run to a place where winter is but a season, and young flesh is not bartered for peace...

Tess clutched her basket, feeling the paper-wrapped offering shift with her movement. It seemed so heavy. Blood was leaking through one corner, saturating the white linen liner of the hamper. The deep, sticky crimson made Tess' stomach churn.

This is your last year, she told herself. One more dance, and you're free—the truce must stand.

Tess took a deep breath, then stepped onto the familiar path, traveling further into the cold, dark forest.

~~~

The clearing was lit by silvery moonlight, and it seemed that the very stars had come down to nestle in the barren trees.

The air hung, still and shimmering—waiting.

Their dance was about to begin.

Tess took her place amongst the other girls. Late, as usual. She smoothed her skirt and willed her heart to cease fluttering.

Twenty-four in all, slender and shivering in their best dresses, feet poised for the first step, the girls held their positions and waited for their partners to emerge from the dark forest.

One by one, they stepped into the clearing. Stygian black coats, eyes like lamps lighting the way to hell.

Wolves.

Tess swallowed, resisting the urge to back away. The wolves stood before them, panting, red tongues glistening like raw meat.

Then, the Change.

This was always the hardest part to watch.

Their bodies twisted, convulsed. Jostling bones and crunching marrow echoed through the glade, mixing with grunts and snarls as the wolves cast off their bestial forms. Tess blinked, and the animals were gone—in outward appearance, at least.

Twenty-four in all, the black-haired men strode forward to take their partners. As the tallest of them approached Tess, pale hand extended, she was overwhelmed by his scent. Mingled woodsmoke, honey, and old blood were sharp in her nose as she stepped up to meet him.

She didn't look at his face.

As from nowhere, flutes, fiddles and drums struck up a merry tune, and the dance began.

Tess took her partner's outstretched hand and allowed him to encircle her waist. They spun through the moonlit clearing, feet moving quickly, breath swirling in the air like excited ghosts.

Tess was glad of her cloak. Its hood hung low over her face so she didn't have to look into the beast's eyes. He was lean, and lithe, as all of them were. A predator's physique.

The men of her village were thick and lumbering, loud and rough as the trees they felled. Tess thought of her betrothed—a boy six years her senior, with eyes like a cornered rat. Her future if she passed this final test.

A lifetime of his heavy, rough hands.

The first dance came to an end, and partners took a bow. This time, Tess could not avoid his amber gaze. He smiled at her.

The next dance was slow and mournful. Tess and the wolf joined hands once more.

"Am I truly so hideous?"

She started at his voice. Low, yet pleasant.

"No, sir, you are not."

"Well then, am I savage? Am I terrifying?"

"No, sir, not now."

"Ah, then I must be so beautiful you are obliged to avert your gaze, for it seems my face is anathema to you."

Tess frowned and lifted her eyes to study him.

"No, sir. You are not," she replied, truthfully.

Her hand felt very small in his. She wondered if he could break her fingers with a slight squeeze, as Nana had warned.

The wolf smiled with sharp teeth."You are Tess."

"I am."

"I have seen you dance before, Tess—you are uncommonly clumsy."

"Thank you kindly, sir. I have never noticed you."

His smile grew wider still, revealing jagged canines and red gums. "You brought liver, if my nose does not deceive me?"

"Yes."

"Delightful."

This banter was unusual. Never before had Tess' partner spoken, let alone teased her.

The dance was coming to an end. It was almost time.

"May I ask one question?"

Tess nodded. They came to a halt as the last notes faded into the night.

"Why didn't you take the other path?"

Tess blinked. Had he been there, in the dark, watching her indecision?

She swallowed. The other girls were staring.

"I—"

His eyes were sharp and inquisitive. They held her captive; a fly trapped in amber.

"I was afraid."

Tess looked down, allowing the cloak to obscure her flushed face. The silence was cloying, pressing against her like a badly-laced corset, hampering her breathing.

"No. You were not afraid, Tess"

His tone was gentle. He took her hand, bowing over it as if she was a princess and not an insignificant village girl.

"You were brave."

Tess could only stare.

One last dance. The air sang with the melody, sharp and crystalline. It was a mad, visceral dance. Tess' feet took on a life of their own, and she was swept away in frost and fury.

She forgot that the man before her was a beast in human guise; forgot Nana's warning and the course hands of her betrothed.

She forgot this dance was a thing to be feared.

When it ended, she felt as if her heart had grown wings and would soon depart its cage of bone. She turned hastily from her partner, clutching the cloak about her shoulders, though she no longer felt cold.

A flame had kindled somewhere inside her, threatening to blaze forth and devour her reason.

You were Brave...

She didn't want to go home.

Nana is waiting, she told herself. There is fire, and warmth, and safety.

There is your wedding, many children to be born, and a home to keep for your man. A quiet death in a lonely bed after years of long toil...

If her heart was a traitor, her mind was its accomplice.

She beat down these mutinous thoughts and took her place among the other shivering girls. It was time.

One maiden to Tess' left began to cry. She was young, and afraid.

Tess remembered how that felt.

The wolves took their offerings from the girl's trembling hands: Calf heart, sow tongue, sheep lung, goat liver...

They greeted each offering with a bow and a courteous word of thanks.

One by one, they slipped away.

Tess was last in the line. She held out her basket to the tall, lean wolf.

He studied her, long and hard.

"How fast can you run?" he asked.

"As fast as I need too," replied Tess.

Without warning, he had her wrist, and they were running, running fast and fleet through the crisp snow of the forest. Tess felt a scream escape her, like a bird started from its nest—then, she laughed, and her laughter was frosted with fearful delight.

"Faster!" cried the wolf, and they sped on, deeper into the frozen heart of the wild wood, far from the village, and safety, and servitude.

They ran until Tess' feet lost their shoes, and her cloak fell away like a scattering of blood-red petals across the snow.

They ran until her skin became as cold as the moon, and her eyes bright as stars.

They ran until she forgot her name, and her old life was but a shadow of a dream.

They ran until she was free, and he was no longer alone.

~~~

The girl Tess vanished that night, devoured, they say, by the creatures who took her.

Her memory now a warning for good little girls in their crimson capes as they venture out into the forest with bloody offerings of their own.

The dance continues, every Solstice, as winter wraps the world in her cruel embrace.

It must continue, for the wolves require payment. This is their country, and we sleep safely in our beds by their grace alone.

One dance, one fearful celebration, one slender girl a year—small price to pay for warmth and safety.

It is easier this way.

~~~

Tess ran on, wearing her new cloak of coal-black night. Her limbs were hard and strong now, her teeth sharp and her tongue red. She no longer feared the forest, for it had become her home.

He was with her, always—never more than a shadow's leap behind.

In time, she would learn to howl.