The Wolf & The Witch
Intermission

The malefica was pleased, and because she was pleased, she assigned two young redheaded witches to Claire. To do whatever Claire ordered them to do.

“Go put some goddamn clothes on,” Claire ordered, glaring at them. “Then bring me hot water, towels, soap, a medicine kit, and alcohol. And do it goddamn fast.”

Este looked at her two witches, motioned with her hand, and they ran off. She put her pinky in her mouth and sucked her finger clean of her father’s blood, and waited. She was curious about these two, and intended to follow the wolf and the witch around as her coven worked to retake the city.

Claire leaned into Lestat, and braced him. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

She helped him stand, and he groaned from the effort, and led him to a bathroom and sat him down on the floor- a sink, a tub, a washbasin. A couple towels. A mirror. Darkness. “Bring me a lantern!” she yelled at her two redheaded witches and sat Lestat down on the stone floor.

Este sat outside the bathroom, against the wall, slowly moving her mother’s ring up and down her finger, the metal scraped her fingernail, then her knuckles, to the end of her finger, and back. The power to nullify. Which, when pulled back and forth across a certain finger on the left hand, feels an awful lot like the power to control. But why would any woman do that? Why would any woman choose to give control of herself to a man? It’s not required for sex. It’s not required for love. It’s not required to have children, and raise them. Este had no guesses. Her mother gave her father complete control over her with this ring. And where did that get her?

Claire looked at Lestat in the dark- strong, hard, rigid muscles, even when exhausted, even when slumped back against the stone tub. Black hair ran up his stomach muscles, up his chest. He had the lean, muscular body of a man who did manual labor eighteen hours a day- chopping trees, carrying rocks, swimming channels. But, if she was being honest, he had lost some muscle since they first met. Claire thought about her breasts, because she knew she had also lost a little bit of herself as well. Her breasts were smaller, her hair was thinner, her skin was splotched from old bruises and wind and cold and dew and grass and dust and frost. She looked at him again, steadied her breath, and started fixing him.

Este sat in in the hall, her back to the wall, listening, thinking.

Claire wetted a towel and washed his face, and chest, and arms, then his stomach and back. She dried him off. His ear was still running blood down his neck and onto his shoulder. He had a deep gash over his left eye, and his shoulder was cut open. It took seven tries for Claire to thread a needle, because her fingers were trembling, and she went up on her knees, and stitched his ear back together. She felt him flinch every single time the needle pierced his ear, but he never said anything. She stitched his shoulder with shaky hands. It was harder to stitch his shoulder because of his muscles, and she was positive she hurt him, but he never said anything. She finished his shoulder with trembling fingers. She never said anything, either.

She threaded the curved needle again. Again it took her seven tries. The last cut that needed stitching was the gash from his eyebrow to his ear. She looked up, from the needle, to his eyes, and leaned forward, to stitch him back together.

He reached up and held her right hand in his left, stopping her. “Claire, I...”

“Wh… what?”

Lestat could feel her hands trembling, and she was sitting right in front of him, her face inches away. “I need something from you. For us. If… us, together, is what you want.” It was the middle of the night, and the dull yellow light from the lantern illuminated them, and the stones, and the tub, but could reach no further- their world ended four feet away at the edge of darkness.

Us? She held his eyes, and knew what she wanted to say- there will never be an us. As if I would go on dates with a wolf, or sleep with a wolf, or marry a wolf, or snuggle up with a wolf and let him hold me. I would never… But try as she might, her heart would not allow those words, because her heart knew- he was more than a wolf. Her heart wanted him. Her heart wanted ‘us’. She swallowed. “What… what’s that?”

“I need you to promise me you will never lie to me, or never break my trust.”

Claire looked down. That was a considerable promise. That was heavy. To never lie? That was a heavier promise than any that made up marriage vows. She remembered how mad he was that she had lied to him, and she remembered his words- I don’t know who to trust- the witch, or the woman. But still, that was a very heavy promise. She looked back up at him. “I… I need something from you, too. For us. If… you want to be with me.”

“Ok.”

They sat on their knees, facing each other, with bloody towels on one side, and the medicine kit, and a bucket of warm water on the other, beside the lantern. Claire paused a minute- there were many words going around her head, and her heart ignored all of them. She looked at him, and swallowed, and felt the weight of her promise as it left her lips. “I promise you that I will never lie to you again, or break your trust. I promise. You can trust me.” She did not look away from him.

Lestat nodded, and squeezed her hand. “What do you need from me?”

Claire took a deep breath and lowered her forehead onto his shoulder. “I… I need…” she felt tears coming, and bit her lip, and forced her tears down, and away. She had cried too much tonight. She leaned back, brought her hands up, and drove the first stitch through his eyebrow. He winced. She took another breath, and drove another stitch. “I need you to respect me; I need to feel valued, and heard; I need you to treat me the way a man should treat a woman.”

“Ok.” Lestat said, and took her right hand- to pause her stitching, forcing her to look at him- his eyes. “I promise you I will treat you with respect, and value you. I may need your help, though, with things.”

She sniffled, and nodded, and started stitching again. “What… things?” Us. Together. Those words added a new reason for her fingers to tremble.

Lestat smiled. “Oh you know- apparently there is a proper way to carry a woman. And a witch told me once there was an order to how this works.”

Claire returned his smile, and laughed a little, high up in her nose. “Well, first, you don’t carry, or touch, any other woman but me. And second- yes, there is an order, and yes, you need my help.” The wolf and the witch smiled at each other in the dim light, and Claire reached around and hugged him, then felt him jerk in her arms. “What is it?”

He moved his neck and the needle moved with him- she accidentally stabbed him in the neck.

Her eyes went big, and she plucked the needle out of his neck, sniffled once more, then smiled. “Sorry about that.” She reached around and wiped a single drop of blood away. “All better.”

The malefica sat in the hall; she wondered if perhaps her mother had lied to her father, or broke his trust. But it was far more likely that her father failed to respect her mother, or value her.

An hour later Lestat was cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, and that night, for the first time in nearly a month and a half, they crawled into a soft, warm bed.

*

Claire woke with priorities. Early. The morning light was just strong enough to slip between the curtains and came into the room the color of old rain water. They were leaving tonight- the malefica was taking them to the border, which meant Claire had one day. She summoned the redheaded witches. They entered, one with her head down, the other glaring. “Pen and paper,” Claire ordered. “And put more clothes on.”

“We’re wearing-“

“More goddamn clothes!”

They returned with pen and paper, wearing more clothes.

Claire sat up and started writing. Breakfast: goat cheese biscuits with every type of jelly you can replace, scrambled eggs with cheese, bac- she felt Lestat stir and looked down. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” he groaned, and blinked awake. Why were they up so damn early?

“What do you want for breakfast?”

He groaned again and pulled the covers up over his head. “Bacon. Eggs. Coffee,” he mumbled.

She smiled, and kept writing: Bacon, fruit, juice, coffee, water, milk. She handed that list to the first redhead, then started a new list: ten sets of underwear- for both of us, five sets of clothes, for both of us. Cut and stitch the left side of my shirts/tops so they can be opened and re-tied together, and the right side of his. Two horses with full gear. One month’s worth of dried food- fruit and meat. Water skins. Two strong, sharp swords. Blankets. Boots. Socks… her list continued.

Lestat climbed out of the blankets long enough to look at her list. He was curious- razors? And why did they need ten bars of soap? He laid back down and pulled the blankets back up over his head. “Can you add some joints, a hatchet, a couple small saws, backpacks, and cord to your list? You also need a better weapon than that-“ He took a deep breath, which turned into a long, drawn-out yawn, and turned over. “-dagger.”

Claire paused and looked down at the blankets covering him. That would’ve normally been an order, not a question. That might have been the first time he asked her to do something, instead of commanding. Was this the respect at work? Either way- “Joints?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… metal brackets to hold pieces of wood together? What do we need those for?”

He pulled the blankets off his face and looked up at her. “No.” Had she never smoked a joint?

“You mean ointments and stuff, for your joints? Feeling old or something?”

“No.” He grinned at her. A sheltered village witch. This would be fun.

“What?”

*

Lestat finished eating in ten minutes. It didn’t take long to eat bacon and eggs. He sat quietly, watching Claire. She had seven jars of jelly in front of her- all different types, three spoons, two plates, a fork, a cup of milk, a cup of coffee, and a glass of water. She had eaten two eggs, and six pieces of bacon, an entire bowl of fruit, and was now slowly making her way through her favorite part of breakfast: a stack of goat cheese biscuits. She hummed to herself as she spooned heaps of strawberry jelly on a biscuit.

“Here, here- try this one.”

The malefica sat across from them and watched as she brought a bite of biscuit to his lips. Lestat took a bite, and shrugged. There was still quite a lot of dried blood on the floor from the night before.

“Well?”

“Well… it kind of tastes like all the others.”

Claire looked at him as if he was insane. Every jelly pairs differently with goat cheese. There’s no way possible he couldn’t taste the difference. Then again, any man willing to take a bite of dead horse liver might not have proper tastebuds developed for such fine foods.

Claire cut another biscuit open- she was on her fifth, and covered both sides in a new jelly- raspberry. She took a huge bite, and jelly ran out of her mouth down her chin. She shook with happiness, and hummed, and smiled, and took another huge bite. Then she noticed Este watching, and offered her a bite.

“No thank you.”

“Take it.”

“No, tha-“

Claire forced the other half of the biscuit into Este’s hands and nodded approval.

Este looked at the biscuit- the jelly did look a little like blood. She took a bite and grimaced- far too sweet.

Lestat chugged down the last of his coffee; he was nervous leaving all their preparation to two redheaded witches who did nothing but lose their clothes and glare at them, and wanted to go check on the horses. But, at the moment, he was more curious why Este kept following them around. “Did you need something from us?” he asked her.

“Perhaps,” the malefica answered. “As I understand it, only one couple will make it back to Itthon, correct?”

Lestat nodded. Claire cut open her sixth biscuit- next in line was apple butter.

“And the cuff falls off once you enter Itthon?”

Another nod, and another gleeful shake of happiness from Claire- apple butter was the best yet.

“And then what will you do?”

The wolf and the witch looked at each other. They knew their old answer. Did they have a new one?

“We’re going to kill all the wolves, and all the witches,” Claire answered; she wiped apple butter off the side of her face with her hand, then licked her hand clean.

“And burn the forest to the ground,” Lestat finished. “They wanted to get rid of us- we’re going to return the favor.”

The malefica nodded- that’s exactly what she would do. She was liking these two more and more. “And after that? If you burn the forest down you’ll lose your homes.”

Claire looked at Lestat, curious. They hadn’t talked about that. And Lestat looked at Claire- he was positive, once this cuff fell off, their relationship would likewise fall away. He assumed their promises lasted until they crossed the last border, and fell away at that point, the same as the cuff.

“I ask because, if you need a place to live, you are welcome in my land. And, as a matter of fact, I encourage the two of you to return here. I might have a job for you. Either way, I will compensate you for that cuff- collect the pieces, and return them to me, and I will reward you very well.”

The wolf and the witch looked at each other again, but didn’t answer.

*

They were leaving in two hours, but those were still two hours Claire intended to make the best of. Last on her list: a hot bath. She stood barefoot on the stone floor with Lestat, looking at the steaming bath, thinking. There was soap, razors, shampoo, towels, candles, two lanterns, and the hungry eyes of a wolf waiting to devour the young, naked body of a beautiful maiden. She looked at Lestat and scrunched her mouth up. He wasn’t looking at her.

Lestat reached down and unbuttoned his pants.

“Hold the hell up,” Claire said, thinking, tapping her foot on the stone floor.

Lestat paused his undressing, looked at the three razors, and wondered what all she was shaving.

They both had new clothes waiting for them- leather pants, and new shirts- ones they could actually wear correctly with their wrists being cuffed, folded in the corner. “Shut your eyes,” she ordered. He did. She slipped her old flannel shirt off, and held it in both hands and ripped the sleeve off, then she reached up and started blindfolding him.

He stopped her. “What are you doing?”

“Blindfolding you. What else?”

“How about I blindfold you, instead?”

“Seriously? I can’t imagine a more wolf-like thing to say.”

“I can. What if-“

“Nope. Stop right there. This is how we’re doing this. Wear a towel if you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m definitely not embarrassed, but how am I supposed to wash and shave blindfolded?”

Claire finished tying the sleeve around the top of his head, over his eyes. “You can wash yourself blindfolded, and I’ll shave you.”

Lestat shrugged, and slipped his pants off.

Claire’s eyes glanced down against her will. She blushed, and looked away. “You need to wear a towel.”

“I’m not getting in the bath wearing a damn towel.”

Claire sighed, which sounded more like a groan, and fought the urge to glance at his dick again, then undid the rope at her waist that held her pants up. They slid to the floor and she kicked them aside, happy to be done with those forever. She stepped into the bath, and the wolf followed.

Claire looked at him- blindfolded. She reached up and checked his blindfold- tight, and secure. No chance of it falling off. Then she leaned over and checked the bottom of his ear- it was red, and looked painful. “Does your ear hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Is the blindfold hurting your stitches?”

“No.”

Claire checked anyway, and loosened it just a little, then leaned away, keeping her eyes off his body. Trying to. She held her breath and slipped under the hot water. Finally. She would’ve killed children for this a month ago, when they were freezing and naked in the wasteland. Since they first woke up in the cell she had cleaned her body with handfuls of snow, they had stopped at a stream twice and rinsed off, and they had ridden horses in the rain, and that was it. She felt him moving beside her- motions and currents in the water, and wondered what he was doing. She emerged and his hand was bleeding. “What the hell.”

“I was looking for soap and found a razor. I guess. You tell me.”

A razor was in the tub. Claire shook her head. This didn’t need to be that difficult. She looked at his hand- he was fine. She retrieved the razor and handed him the soap.

Lestat was finished washing himself in two minutes. Hair included. It’s a pretty simple task.

Claire, on the other hand, spent twenty minutes washing her hair. She washed it three times. Then a full twenty minutes scrubbing her body. Then another thirty minutes shaving. She hummed, and thought about new jelly-goat cheese combinations, and tilted her leg this way, then that way, making sure it was smooth and soft.

Lestat simply sat in the water, listening, relaxing, wishing he had a joint, his right hand being tugged all around, occasionally bumping into her soft body. “What all are you shaving?” he asked.

Claire’s head spun around to check on the blindfold. She was done shaving, but now she needed to wash her body again. “It’s none of your business.”

“You promised not to lie.”

“I know goddamn good and well that I promised not to lie, but that doesn’t mean I have to answer every question you ask. God. It’s none of your damn business what I shave.”

Lestat grinned. “What? Or where?”

Claire growled at him.

“Want me to wash your back?”

“No,” she huffed. Then she stopped herself; she slowed down, and looked at him. His throat, his chest, his stomach, a bloom of bruises. She frowned, and ran her finger up his stomach, up his chest, to his shoulder, tracing purples, and dark purples, and tinges of yellow. She took a deep breath- it still hurt her heart to see him hurt; some of those bruises would’ve been hers without him. She handed him the soap, and turned around. “Thank you,” she said, her voice lower.

He slowly scrubbed her back. He pulled her hair aside, and scrubbed her neck, her shoulders; he followed her spine down into the water. Then he rinsed her with his left hand, and leaned back.

“Let me do yours,” Claire said, and Lestat turned to the side. She scooted around and noticed his back was bruised and indented- the effect of being thrown into a wall, into a fire, against a table, and down onto a stone floor. She washed him gently, and ran her fingers very softly over the bruises. What could she do to help him? Ointments? Massages? “Do these hurt?”

“Yes.”

Claire frowned, and finished his back. “Ok, turn around.”

He did.

She glanced down and blushed- he wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t soft, either. Was that from touching her back, or her touching his? She soaped his stubbly beard until his face was covered in bubbles, and scooted closer. She reached across him for a new razor and felt her nipples, and breasts, brush against his chest, and blushed again. She cleared her throat, and leaned closer, and slowly, carefully, started shaving him. A small scrape of the razor down his cheek, then she washed the hairs off in the tub. A small scrape along his chin, and a swish in the water. Very small scrapes under his nose, above his lips. She studied his face- strong, sharp jaw and full lips. Nose slightly big, but angular. Handsome. Even his neck was muscular, although it, too, was bruised. She finished one side, and started on the other. “You never did answer me.”

He thought a second. “Ham, or bacon, or sausage. Maybe eggs. All jelly tastes the same to me. Though I am curious how honey would taste.”

Claire smiled, then laughed. What did he like the best on biscuits? “Not that.”

“What, then?”

Claire cleared her throat. “You know- the question I asked before you started fighting.”

Lestat remembered, and he knew the answer. He reached up with his left hand and started tugging the blindfold off.

“Hey, hey! Stop that.”

He stopped. “I want to look at you when I answer.”

“Well then let’s wait till we’re finished in the bath.” She kept shaving him, slowly. Little scrapes, uncovering his face. He was handsome with his beard, and handsome without it. The bath water was going cold, but she didn’t mind. What she did mind, though, was waiting. She chewed on her lip, then put the copper razor down, and covered her breasts with her right arm. “Answer me, then,” she said.

Lestat pulled the blindfold off and blinked his eyes. Her breasts bulged beneath her arm, and a drop of water ran off her hair, down her shoulder, and plopped into the tub. Another week or two and her hair would be long enough to cover her breasts.

“Well?”

Lestat smiled at her, and held her eyes in the flickering light. “You’re beautiful all the time, if you want an honest answer. However, I think you’re most beautiful the closer you are to me. When I’m holding your hand, or holding you when we sleep; the way your hair smells, and the way your skin feels, or when we’re very close, and your voice is soft, or when you sleep on me, and I can feel your warmth, and feel you breathing. When you smile- that smile you have when you’re eating a jelly biscuit…” He reached up and very lightly ran his finger from the corner of her eye down her cheek, past her ear, down her neck. “That’s when you’re most beautiful.”

Claire swallowed, and blushed, and had no words. Neither her heart, nor her brain, could formulate a response. She knew that there was a perfect answer to every question a woman could ask a man. Does my hair look nice? Yes. But yes is not the right answer, because women want to hear how their hair looks nice. Do you like my shoes? Yes. And again, that’s not the right answer- women want to know if the shoes match their outfit, or if they look cute, or sexy. And when a woman asks a man if she’s beautiful, and the answer is a simple yes, then the man has failed to answer. Claire had turned suitors away because they had no concept of how to answer questions the way she, or any other woman, wanted them answered. But if any suitor had answered the way Lestat just did... Her breath caught in her throat, and her arm slowly fell off her breasts into the water. Claire’s heart could not have asked for a better answer, and in all her life, of all the compliments she had received, none had been better, or meant more, than that one. It took her a few seconds to regain her breath. She blinked a few times, and looked up at him, and cleared her throat. “Th… thank you. Can... I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

She reached around him, and started to tie the blindfold around his eyes, but then draped it loosely, worried about his stitches. “Are you not… attracted to my body? My hips, breasts, or…”

“I try not to look at your body.”

“I know. I can tell. That’s why I’m asking. Why?”

Lestat turned to face her, even though he couldn’t see her. “Because your breasts, and your body, do not belong to me. They’re not mine to look at. If we were... married, or… closer, then yes. But not until then.”

Another flawless answer, and Claire didn’t know what to say, or think. Even if she had words she wouldn’t know how to say them. How could a wolf answer questions like that? Wolves aren’t known for their self-control. Men aren’t, either. She could not imagine any man, including Lestat, answering those two questions like that. Claire didn’t know what to say, so she let her heart take over. She picked the razor back up and finished shaving him. She smiled at him when she finished, then very gently washed his face with her hands. She rubbed his chest, and massaged his shoulders, and arms, and forearms. She re-washed his hair. Then she looked at him, clean, clean shaven, long, dark hair, wavy and hanging over his ears and part of his right eye. He needed a haircut. “You are very handsome,” she said, honestly, and then blushed across her nose.

“Thank you. Only when I’m stitched up, clean-shaven and blindfolded with a dirty flannel shirt?”

She smiled, and then laughed a little, up high, in her nose. “No. All the time. Every day.”

There was a knock on the bathroom door. It was time to go.