Sweet words and soft caresses eased Darcy from a deep slumber. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure she was yet awake. With a whine, she curled into a ball, attempting to grasp onto the abyss that called out so enticingly. Surely, sleeping for a thousand years would not be enough. A voice like smoke rising from embers curled through the darkness and Darcy wrinkled her nose, uncertain of what to do. She wanted to bathe in the rumblings of the voice but couldn't quite open her eyes.

"Darcy, wake, for even a moment. You must put on your shift," urged the voice and Darcy smiled as a hand stroked her face.

"Brock, come back to bed," Darcy mumbled, only earning a disappointed sigh in reply.

"Your grandmother is sure to be here any moment. She will not be pleased to find you undressed. Despite her age, I think she will easily tell what we have been doing."

"I don't care," Darcy said with a shrug. At least, she thought she shrugged. Her body felt as if it were a cloud, floating in the air without an anchor. Cracking open an eye with herculean effort, Darcy saw that the light had begun to fade and Brock was fully dressed. She closed her eye.

"If your grandmother does not see fit to leave us alone again, I will never be in your bed after tonight," Brock warned. That made Darcy frown. She opened both eyes to find Brock with a furrow in his brow and panic in his face. Perhaps she should be amused at how frightened he seemed of her grandmother's ire but his warning did pose a bleak future for her. Now that he had her attention, Brock's voice lowered and a shiver of delight ran down her spine. "I doubt you'd be pleased if you never get the chance to take another bite of out me."

"And how would you feel?" asked Darcy, voice breathy. She almost did not recognize it as hers. "If you couldn't take a bite out of me?"

Brock licked his lips before pinning her with a heated look. "I would be starving for the rest of my life."

"I am no man's meat," Darcy said with a deep laugh, feeling as if she were floating outside of her body when she knew she was firmly in her flesh. The declaration liberated her, even if she did not know where it came from. A fond smile lit Brock's features.

"No, you are not," Brock chuckled, knuckles running a feather light touch down her neck. Her breath hitched. "But your grandmother will cook me in her stew if she finds you in this state."

With a long-suffering sigh, Darcy allowed Brock to tug her up into a sitting position. Because she did not have much, if any, control of her body, her head lolled to one side and her body fell back down. Through much effort from Brock, they shoved her slip back on her body, brushed her hair and sat her up against the pillows. Although she preferred to crawl towards slumber, Brock insisted she needed to eat.

Brock left her room in search of food and Darcy used the opportunity to close her eyes. As she sought sleep once more, the smell of fresh baked bread filled her room. Confused, she opened her eyes a crack and saw Brock in the doorway with thin lips and a furrowed brow. Next to him stood her grandmother with a basket of bread and fruit.

"My dear girl, I am joyed to see you safe," grandmother said, letting out a sigh in relief.

"Brock gave me too much draught," Darcy mumbled and her grandmother let out a laugh as if Darcy were once again a child making a silly, innocent jokes. She still could not move her limbs and her head threatened to sag to one side.

"I fear that is the effect. Now, you must eat, although you do not wish anything other than sleep," grandmother insisted gently. "Just a few bites of fresh bread. A kind gift for delivering a healthy babe."

With Brock's aid, grandmother began to feed Darcy. Eating certainly was the last thing Darcy wished for but she couldn't do anything but lean into Brock's side as grandmother pressed small pieces of bread and berries to her lips. Darcy ate with slow bites and painful swallows. All the while, grandmother chatted brightly about the long but eventually successfully birth of a boy. Despite grandmother's cheery voice, wariness caught in the undertow of her words.

Finally, they placed a mug at her mouth and Brock tilted her head back so she could take two large gulps of mead. At least it wasn't any more of that cursed potion.

No longer able to fight sleep, Darcy yawned as Brock lay her back down. She heard grandmother dismiss Brock for the night. The faint sounds of a crackling fire and grandmother's hums filled Darcy's ears. In between the world of the living and the dreams of fairy tales, she could not make out reality from her imagination. Although her grandmother most certainly stood by the hearth, her voice and movements sounded as if right next to Darcy. When she concentrated on trying to move her arm or leg, she could only feel the steady thrum of her heart beating in time with Brock's.

Surely, she was not awake if she could still feel Brock's heart by hers, as he was most likely at his hut now. As much as Darcy wanted to fall gracefully into the abyss, something fought to stay awake. She wanted to move. Wanted to get back to Brock. Without him curled by her side, she felt her entire body ache something fierce. She did not know how the maids ever got anything done if this was the effect of losing one's virtue.

Grandmother's footsteps shook the house but Darcy knew that was impossible for a woman with such light steps. When grandmother made her way to Darcy's side, the older woman let out a shaky sigh full of sorrow and relief. As much as Darcy tried, she could not open her eyes.

"You mustn't fight sleep, my dear little pup. It will do more harm than good," grandmother said softly. Darcy scrunched her face in confusion as a burst of anger welled in her chest. She needed Brock by her side. Not her grandmother. But that was silly. She loved her grandmother. A woman who would never wish Darcy harm, who let her run through the fields and dip her toes into the stream. Grandmother tucked something around Darcy's shoulders and a throb shot through her head. Letting out a pained whine, Darcy bit her lip as a fog gripped her consciousness, giving way to a numbness that ran through her entire body. She could no longer feel Brock's heartbeat and the urge to run to him dimmed somewhat.

"Perhaps when you are awake, I will tell you the story of your great-aunt. You remind me so much of Jehanne. She would roam the fields of Arc without fear, much to papa's displeasure," grandmother said in French, wistful at the memory. A cool, soft hand caressed Darcy's forehead. "Your grandfather wished for you to stay a young girl forever. He feared what your destiny may hold. Made me promise to reign you in as long as I could. Like a fool, I agreed. But you are running towards it, arms wide open. Are you not? You get that from my side."

When Darcy opened her eyes, she took in her dark room for just a moment before a wolf howled outside her window. The howl rang out closer than it had ever been but the answering pack sounded distant. No longer weakened by exhaustion, Darcy sat up. Only faint moonlight shone through the window tonight. On her lap, she could see her cloak and realized it had been tucked around her shoulders. She tossed it to the edge of her bed and a pain gripped her heart. It loosened just as fast as it came and a balm seemed to soothe her, though she knew not what caused it. Jumping out of bed, Darcy ran to the window. At first, all she saw were the familiar line of trees but shimmering eyes caught her attention. An enormous wolf with black fur and amber eyes trotted out from the forest. It walked halfway from the forest to the house and sat down, looking up at Darcy's window.

She wanted to run outside and join it. Even if Darcy knew better, especially after giving her grandmother a fright, her sense did not want to listen. Her toes dug into the floor and her hands clenched into fists as Darcy fought this strange urge to run in the forest. As if the wolf understood her fight, it nodded once. At least, it looked like a nod. There was no way a wolf was nodding at her. Perhaps she was still dreaming?

The wolf lay down, head on its paws. She thought of Brock and imagined his strong arms surrounding her. The tension in her body eased. The wolf slowly wagged its tail. Somehow, she knew this wolf would wait at her window all night if she wished. But when she heard the distant calls of the pack, her heart yearned once more. The wolf's ears twitched but it did not leave, even if she knew it wished to join the others. It deserved to play with its brothers.

As much as Darcy wanted this wolf to stay with her, though she did not know why she wished that, she did not want to impede on its night of fun. She offered the wolf a nod and it perked up its head. For a long beat, the wolf searched her eyes. It didn't seem satisfied until she smiled. Sitting back on its haunches, the wolf let out a deep howl towards the sky that rattled her window. As barks and yips answered the black wolf, it leaned forward on its front paws as if to bow. With one final look at Darcy, the wolf nodded then ran into the forest.

Peace settled into Darcy's bones as she watched the wolf leave. A part of her still yearned to join but she crawled into her bed instead. Chest light with elation and excitement, Darcy sought for sleep once again. Eventually she found it and with a smile on her face, she dreamt of a black wolf feeling grass underneath his paws for the first time.

Over the next few days, grandmother would not allow Darcy out of her sight. Rather vexing, given that all Darcy wanted to do was sneak over to see Brock. By the third morning, Darcy wondered if Brock missed her as well. All she longed for was to feel his strong arms tug her close to his body and let his heat engulf her. Of course, she wouldn't mind letting his hands wander, either. Her body ached for his sure touches and fiery kisses. Although grandmother did not ask Darcy what exactly happened the night she went missing, knowing and incredulous looks were Darcy's reply whenever she uttered an innocent request to visit Brock. The final answer always ended up being no. Darcy feared her grandmother's opinion of the blacksmith was now rather bleak. She wondered if he had said something by accident to grandmother when he left. Darcy did not remember anything between falling asleep with Brock in her bed to waking up in the middle of the night. Did grandmother walk in on them and had chosen not to say anything to Darcy?

The morning after his touches and the strange wolf in the wood, Darcy woke well rested but still drowsy and lethargic. She had enough sense to notice the small spot of blood on the sheets that signaled the true loss of her innocence. Truth be told, Darcy did not feel that her identity underwent major changes or that she had lost anything. In fact, her body seemed much surer of itself. Her movements grew confident overnight and she could swear her hearing and nose were more sensitive on occasion. The ache in between her legs made her smile to herself for she knew she wanted to feel it again once it faded. In an attempt to hide the evidence, Darcy folded the sheet and hid it at the bottom of her trunk of clothes.

Darcy wholly maintained the belief that her virtue had been entirely hers to give and she held no regrets over her time spend in bed with Brock. Obviously, her grandmother did not share that same sentiment even if she had spent most of the summer thus far allowing Darcy ample opportunity to cavort with him. The older woman appeared rather piqued at the possibility that Brock took Darcy's virtue. He never offered any reason to earn grandmother's ire, up until now.

So, although Darcy hid the sheet and did not talk about Brock other than to ask to visit him with a meal, there must have been a new flush to her face she could not hide. Certainly, she had held her hand to her chest more often, which may have looked strange. On occasion, Darcy felt a heart beating next to hers and she found it utterly mesmerizing. At first, she assumed she were being silly and overly romantic. When the heart beat faster at times she knew Brock would be working and slower towards the evening when he rested, she began to wonder if there if were something other than imagination.

By the third afternoon, Darcy heaved a sigh of relief when grandmother suggested they go visit the newborn babe and his mother. It meant they would have to pass by Brock's hut and she could catch a glimpse of him. Except, when they walked by, he was nowhere in sight and Darcy did her best to hide her disappointment. Once grandmother was satisfied that the mother and child were healthy, they walked back through the village. Some of the villagers milled about, talking in hushed and concerned voices.

"My ladies, how do you fare at the far end of the path?" An older man named Udo asked, breaking off from a small crowd when he caught sight of the two women. "Are you still safe?"

"Why wouldn't we be safe?" Darcy asked. She tried to come up with any reason why he would have cause for concern and she realized that Brock lived the closest to grandmother's home. Chest tightening, Darcy bit her lip in concern the villagers suddenly took a dislike to him. Words praising his character were on the tip of her tongue when Udo continued.

"The wolves, of course! Have you not heard them at night? Howlin' and callin' out to the Devil, they be. I'm tellin' you, we'll all be dinner by the time winter comes!"

"Have the wolves attacked anyone? Any livestock," grandmother asked calmly as Darcy let out a small breath of relief. Grandmother showed no signs of fear, just mild curiosity. At her lack of concern, Udo's bushy eyebrows rose.

"No but I'm certain tis only a matter of time," leaning in, Udo's voice lowered in a tentative whisper. "I would 'ave thought you, out of all, would be the most concerned. What with...god rest his soul, with Bruce meetin' his end by these beasts."

"Some beasts are not what they seem," grandmother said softly, a hint of sorrow in her voice. Her eyes moved to Darcy and they shared comforting smiles. Grandmother reached out to brush an errant strand of hair behind Darcy's ear then reached down to pat thoughtfully at the crimson cloak Darcy wore. "Yet it does not benefit us to fear what may happen. Perhaps the wolves will leave before anyone is hurt."

"Well, I for one ain't gonna stand 'round and let 'em kill more. Some of us men are askin' Brock to make some weapons. Good lad, that one. We're lucky to 'ave 'im in the village."

"Betty, I'm glad I found you. My boys are stubborn but their complainin' have gotten on my last nerve," said a stout woman in her late 40s named Mary. Grey streaked her red hair. Darcy had fond memories over the years of Mary making the most delicious tarts whenever Darcy brought her a basket of freshly picked berries. Leaning in towards grandmother, Mary began to whisper and Darcy just barely heard her. "I worry that Little John's leg is not healing as it should but now my husband has been complainin' this past week and is too embarrassed to ask for your help. It's of a more...delicate nature."

Understanding dawned on grandmother's features but Darcy frowned, wondering what it was that ailed Mary's husband. A week before, they'd seen to Mary's youngest son, who had a nasty fall while chasing after an errant sheep. Both women looked to Darcy and Udo, who hadn't been able to hear their conversation so peered at them in curiosity. Mary's voice lowered even more and she spoke into grandmother's ear so Darcy could no longer hear. With thin lips, grandmother nodded.

"Udo, I must tend to this but I need Darcy to collect some things in the forest. Will you walk with her? As you suggested, we cannot be too safe," grandmother asked Udo, clearly suggesting that a wolf could easily eat Darcy for a noon meal if left unattended. As Udo assured grandmother that Darcy would be safe under his watch, Darcy sighed. One chaperone to another. "Darcy, collect some bearberry leaves and dandelion root. Start a fire in the hearth. When I return, we'll start making a brew for Big John."

Mary offered Darcy a kind smile before she walked off with grandmother to tend to both Johns. She turned to Udo, who gestured for Darcy to lead the way. While Darcy didn't normally want to be left out of learning about new ailments and their treatments, she wouldn't mind some time away from grandmother and a chance to explore the forest. Even if it was with Old Udo.

"I saw some dandelions by Brock's hut. You'll 'ave to take lead on the bearberry leaves but I'll keep you safe," winked Udo and Darcy smiled at the older man's suggestion. They began to make their way out of the village.

"If Brock agreed to make weapons, does that mean you will go hunting for these wolves?" asked Darcy. She didn't want the wolves to be hunted down. For some reason, she had become quite fond of their howls. In fact, the black wolf continued to visit her window at night, asking for permission before running off to its brethren. Last night, before he ran off, Darcy even whispered through her window to it. Silly thoughts about her missing Brock and wishing she could join them but ultimately deciding she'd best not give her grandmother more reason to keep Darcy under lock and key. Though she admitted she was willing to risk ire once more if she did not meet with Brock soon. The wolf even appeared to offer his sympathies to her.

Thinking about the black wolf meeting a gruesome end caused her heart to sink. A flash of indignation and anger at Udo's audacity swelled but Darcy didn't know where this emotion came from. The old man was just trying to protect the village.

"I pray it don't come to that but one can never be too sure. Some of us'll be takin' shifts and watch over the livestock come night time."

"Surely one man against a pack of wolves is dangerous," Darcy said, not sure if she could dissuade Udo from this ridiculous scheme. The last time there had been wolf attacks, the villagers were scared but none had sought to fight back. Perhaps the knowledge of her grandfather having died caused a greater sense of urgency this time round.

"I'll ask Brock to see if he can fashion a bell to warn us if we need more numbers," Udo decided confidently, after taking a moment to tug on his grey beard in thought. He showed no indication that he saw any danger in his plan. Knowing she'd not be able to deter any of the village men from this scheme, she allowed Udo to chatter on about the strategy decided upon. Occasionally she nodded and asked appropriate questions but her thoughts wandered. If Darcy were lucky, Brock would be back to working at his hut as she collected the dandelion root. Anticipation thrummed in her veins at the thought.