Falling For Henry Read Free Page B

tight-waisted and of rich material, with elaborate hoods. They sat sidesaddle on their horses, their bodies twisted in what Kate thought was an awkward position, yet they managed to ride gracefully, nevertheless. On the edge of the clearing, Kate saw another girl carefully maneuvering her way among the trees. She was riding a gray pony that she quickly drew to a walk, sidestepping behind thick bushes which masked her from the hunting party. It looked as if she had just ridden quite a distance, and in her hurry was now breathless and disheveled. She seemed to be trying to avoid the hunters. She was wearing a blue-gray gown; her hood was down and she was working her waist-length auburn hair back into place while staying atop her mount. Something about her was very familiar, and Kate stared hard, trying to get a better look.
    Suddenly, Kate glimpsed what the hunters were after. A muscular buck with huge antlers bounded from the trees, branches snapping with its passage. A young man a bit taller than Kate stood up in his stirrups and shot an arrow. The arrow caught the deer full in the chest and it fell to its knees, struggled to rise, and then went down in the grass, thrashing in panic. An echoing panic ran through Kate’s chest. This picture no longer pleased her; unlike a movie, she couldn’t pass it off as make-believe. This hunt was real! An animal was being killed, right in front of her eyes!
    She tore her gaze away from the deer as the fellow’s red hair, caught in the sunlight, looked as though it were on fire, a mesmerizing effect. He turned and Kate had a glimpse of his face. She’d never before seen such a look of triumph or, a moment later, such grace of motion as he slid from his horse and ran toward the deer. Something about him both interested and frightened her, and the drama of the moment made her heart beat faster. The deer tried to heave itself forward and Kate saw the bright gleam of blood. She felt sick to her stomach. This was definitely no movie.
    The knife flashed in the young man’s hand and he gave an excited cry, his eyes glittering as the buck shuddered and then was still. Not just still, thought Kate: dead. Had she called out, made some kind of noise, could she have saved it? Shaking, she backed further into the shadows. The hunting party yelled jubilantly and horns heralded their success. Harm and harmony, Kate thought, her legs trembling, her hands cold as ice. She saw the girl on the gray pony edge further into the concealment of the forest, trying, as Kate was trying, not to be seen. Kate retreated a little deeper into the tunnel, tripped over her own feet, and fell into a side passage that opened into an alcove. She found herself facing wide blue eyes set in a small, furry gray face. A dog! A puppy of some kind. It stumbled to its feet and tried to run, but one of its front legs buckled and it crumpled back onto the ground. As if it knew it had no chance, it sank back in the dust, eyes gleaming piteously within a band of white fur that ran across its brow and down its muzzle.
    â€œWe’re both afraid,” Kate said softly, “but neither of us is going to get hurt. You’ll be okay. Your mama will be back soon.”
    She remembered with bitterness that someone had told her that once, too, a long time ago. And she was still waiting. Then she heard a low growl coming from the tunnel’s opening and turned quickly, catching a glimpse of stone gray eyes and a fanged snarl. These were no dogs! She threw herself headlong into the shaft of the tunnel, desperate to get away.
    The floor moved under her feet and she was once again moving out of control, a scream locked in her throat. As the force once again flattened her like dough, she heard a bone-chilling howl and her last thought before oblivion was: Wolves!
    Later—and she didn’t know if what had passed were minutes, hours, or some other quantity of time she couldn’t measure—she found herself