“Rose, wait!” Fenrir called out as he stood up, but with a crash of the slammed door, she was gone. His frustration and uneasiness turned to melancholy as he sat back down, slumped in his chair. Fenrir and Willow shared an apathetic moment of silence. “You should have told her sooner…” Fenrir grumbled, not angrily but dejected. “She would have accepted it better… she wouldn’t [i]hate[/i] me.”

Willow let out a deep sigh “Maybe… maybe not.” she replied, sounding a little sympathetic toward Fenrir now. “[i]This time is hers.[/i] Isn’t that what you said back then? She deserved to have that freedom until now.” Fenrir sat quietly, not showing any signs of protest. Then his mind focused on that last bit…. [i]freedom[/i].

“Do you think of my bond as a prison?” Fenrir inquired with agitation in his voice.

“Is that not the deal? My freedom, in exchange the freedom of another.”

“A [b][i]life[/i][/b] for a [b][i]life[/i][/b].” Fenrir replied “I saved you from an ill fate, so that…”

“So that she could have one?” Willow accusingly interrupted. Fenrir stood up from his chair, towering over the woman. With a fire burning in his eyes, he looked her straight in the face.

“So that I can save her from one.” He responded with seriousness and sincerity. “This world is cruel and unforgiving; many of its inhabitants malevolent and unkind. I know this better than most. She is precious and innocent, and I wish to protect some of that.” Fenrir walked past, stopping at the gap between dining room and front hall. He peered down the hallway, staring intently at the closed door from which Rose had furiously made her exit. The words struck accord within the old woman, her wariness lessened.

“…you’ll take good care of her, then? Won’t you…” Willow spoke very softly under her breath. Fenrir did not reply, for lost in thought, he did not even hear the subtle words of the old woman. It did not matter; the remark was more conclusion than inquisition. After a few moments of stillness, Willow spoke again, now in a natural tone. “I can give you her hand, but I can’t give you her heart.” this time Fenrir had heard her.

“…I know.”

~

Fenrir trailed through the snow, following her white prints and ornate scent. He contemplated going in the guise of a wolf; to watch her from afar and to give her space, as often he had did before. [i]No,[/i] he thought, [i] I must still give her space, but things are different now. Words must be said, though perhaps delicate and few.[/i] And so, he made his way toward her as a man. 

It was not long until he came into sight of the bright red silhouette enclosed in white, set low to the ground. Carefully he made his way over, as not to make his presence known. Once he got close enough to hear her weeping, he stopped. As much as he wanted to comfort her then and there, he figured he’d better let the tears run their course. He took concealment behind a tree and patiently waited for the sobs to die down.

Fenrir contemplated what Willow had said earlier. [i]Let the girl decide…[/i] he thought about it, about how that might be the [i]right[/i] thing to do, about how she might accept him all the more easily. [i]And if she said no…?[/i] He couldn’t bear that thought, he couldn’t leave this up to chance. He would just have to give her time and space, insisting one day it will happen. Finally, he approached her.

“…you’ll catch a cold out here like that…” Fenrir spoke with a loud yet benign voice, “…we should get you back inside.” It was obvious she hadn’t perceived his presence until he spoke, as a result of her dismal state and the quieted steps in the snow. She stayed very silent and still, not turning around to see him; her frigid form only being broken by the occasional sob. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot… I’m not going to rush you into anything, and I’m not here to oppress you. I want… I want to give you a good life.”