Page 40 of The Vampire Curse
I sit back on my heels and sigh. I hope against hope that in some way this makes up for my part in this ritual, and not doing anything the first two days.
I stand and do my best to brush off the dirt from my light breeches. But the soil is damp and I only succeed in smearing it into the material.
Giving up on my hopeless outfit, I look for signs of the wolf's tracks—small paw prints here and there, a scuffling of leaves where his foot dragged, small broken twigs.
I crouch and dig a hole to bury the leather boot. I grab a nearby fallen branch then proceed to sweep it across the path, blurring the tracks left behind to camouflage the hole I made.
I toss the branch and dust off my hands as I make my way back to the horse.
“Thanks for being such a good girl,” I say, stroking her velvety muzzle.
Untying the reins, I put them back into place and mount up. At least that part is getting easier.
I guide the mare around in circles, getting rid of any possible remaining tracks before heading toward the voices of the hunting party.
Kathrine spots me and trots over. Her mouth parts as she takes in my appearance. “Oh, Clara, what happened? You’re covered in dirt.”
My heart stutters. “I… I was unseated,” I offer, but it comes out more like a question.
Kathrine giggles, pulling her horse next to mine. “You really do need to learn how to ride,” she teases.
I smile.
“I lost the trail!” Lord Byron of Progsdale says.
Kathrine frowns.
The gaze of everyone from our hunting party drops to the ground. I see a paw print and nudge my horse to the side until a hoof tramps over it.
What a shame. Now they’ll never pick up the trail.
“I thought I saw it run that way,” I say, pointing east, away from the wolves.
“Why didn’t you say so, girl? Let’s go—time is running short,” the mayor of Durford says. He kicks his horse into a trot, causing his round posterior to bounce in the saddle as he rides away.
One by one, each member of the party takes off, hurrying to catch a wolf they will never find. Though Kathrine stays at my side.
I don’t look back in the true direction the wolves ran. There is no reason to.
* * *
Hours later and the party gathers in a circle. My mare shifts impatiently beneath me.
“We should get back. The sun will lower soon, and dinner will be ready,” Abraham says. He smiles, but the light in his eyes dims when he glances at Kathrine, head bowed and pouting.
Lord Byron huffs. “It is a shame we didn’t catch the little demon spawn. Would have had better luck on the wedding night producing a boy.”
What a prick. As if the wedding night is any of his business.
“You only have to look at Kathrine and Abraham to know they don’t need luck in their marriage,” I say. “Fate could not have designed a more perfect couple.”
Kathrine beams at that, holding her head a little higher and Abraham lets out a relieved breath of air. They don’t need superstition the day before their wedding, or comments from dirty old men.
“No matter,” Mayor Collins says, “it was all in good fun.”
As we ride back to the Morgan’s manor, everyone breaks into small groups, chatting. I linger near the rear, and once more, Kathrine rides at my side.
Other than Kitty’s presence, nothing about Littlemire feels familiar anymore. The sense of home I once had, is gone—if it had ever been there to begin with. Something I’m starting to doubt. The distance I’ve had while in Windbury has only lifted the veil over my eyes to reveal the truth.