The darkness quickly fell over the forest. Like a siren's call, the low whispering murmur of the night breeze rustled through the dancing branches of the low hanging trees. If there were any animals nearby, they all scampered to their dens when the sun disappeared into darkness.
With a slight sigh, the statuesque woman glanced around her. Katja felt the cold north wind sting against her exposed cheeks. She grimaced as she pulled the woolen scarf closer around her neck. Even though her black fur hat kept the icy coolness from the crown of her head, the rest of her fought against the sensations. A melancholy bleakness consumed her soul, but despite this, she would not turn back. The sound of the snow crunching below her wooden skis kept her moving closer to her destination.
Being born and raised in Siberia, Katja grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures. On normal, frigid days she could make her excursions with the family wagon, or sometimes a borrowed horse. But on days like today, the only way to move around was by sheer will power and skis. Although not a common occurrence, cross-country traveling in such harsh weather was not new to her. With each movement, she heard the swishing sound of the snow beneath her skis. Her muscles tightened even as she felt her back flexing in a rhythmic cadence. After a few hours of this, the young woman felt her breath coming in short gasps and she stopped in her tracks for a moment of respite.
As she looked at the shadowy branches above her, she reflected on her childhood. As a girl, she was comforted by the frigid coldness of the land. For her, she always saw the bitter winter storms as a reminder of the warmth and comfort that awaited her in her family's abode. Often times her mother would greet her at the end of the day with a warm broth or sugary treat.
Katja heaved a sigh of resignation as she turned her attention back to the snow covered trail. She knew that at such a late hour, her family would be worried. Her mother would be pacing nervously and her father would be looking out of the door waiting for any sign of his wayward daughter. As the oldest child, none of her siblings would venture out to find her. At eighteen, Katja knew all too well how her family could fret. With this in mind, she returned to the methodical strides that led to her home. Each movement caused her to inhale and exhale, the latter causing a fine mist to escape past the woolen fabric around her mouth.
Once or twice when she came upon an opening in the branches, she glanced upward to the moon. Its iridescent hue of yellow and white cast a shimmering glow upon the hard packed snow. On nights like this, when the moon was full and the wind seemed to carry a lonely whisper through the trees, Katja remembered the lore of her people. They believed that the virtues of a young maiden should not tempt fate, so rather than arrantly meandering out late at night they should be safe and secure in their family's abode. In the past when a girl was out late and alone, the goblins of the night would whisked the girls into the darkness never to be seen again.
Despite her better judgment, Katja felt an uncontrollable shiver of fear run up her spine as her imagination began to take its toll. With a slight shudder and a shake of her head she continued to make long strides through the snow. Even as she tried in vain to forget the nightmarish tales that were shared amongst her clan, she glanced around the darkness. Her mind began to see shadows looming in the dark forest as senses betrayed her.
When she heard a loud crashing sound, she stopped dead in her tracks and glanced into the darkness. Like the telltale beat of her heart, the forest suddenly came alive. The peace and quiet was quickly replaced with the distant snapping of a twig and the rustle of a tree branch. As if feeling her close scrutiny, the sounds grew silent except for the rustling of the wind in the tall tree tops. Surrounded in the shelter of silence, Katja felt suddenly alone.
"Nonsense!" she chided herself after a moment of silent contemplation. She shook her head negatively as a soft tsking sound parted her lips. With a slight scowl, she grabbed her poles and returned to her journey. With every step she took, she clung to a cavalier stance that did not truly exist within her. With every ounce of her strength she strived to force the frightening emotions away as she pushed her skis down the solitary trail.
"I've never actually known any of the women carried off by beasts, so it must be a story meant to scare daughters," the tall, dark haired woman muttered under her breath. With a tinge of fear, the woman softly chuckled. "What is wrong with you, Katja, allowing the tales to control your fears," she softly chided.
Despite the courageous mask, Katja grimaced as she remembered all of the gruesome accounts. The young women of various villages who ventured out too late were sometimes never found again. Those unlucky enough to have been found days later were dead. Although she never saw the bodies, Katja overheard the tales from the men in the villages. After much ale they spoke of the bodies that were found strewn in the forest. The corpses bore the evidence of being ravaged and murdered in the most savage ways. Many of the villagers believed it to be the work of a demon because to them, no animal held the strength necessary to commit such atrocities upon human flesh. Yet some believed it to be fanciful tales of drunken men.
With an unconscious shiver, Katja glanced around nervously. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow in search of any foe. When none was found, she released a slight sigh as she softly chuckled.
"Foolish girl," she muttered to herself. "What do the men know? None have seen any of the murdering creatures," Katja spoke out loud as if to bolster her courage.
When she thought about it, Katja realized that there were no missing women from her village, and in fact, she had not known any of the victims from neighboring enclaves personally. For all she knew, it was all just fables told to keep the girls under control. With an almost knowing smile, Katja nodded acceptance of this as the steeled herself to begin her trek home.
Before regaining a confident air a sharp howling cry echoed off the nearby mountains. Katja remained frozen in her tracks as she listened to the pitiful howl that rolled over the tree tops. As if life had drained away from her, she turned sickly pale as she glanced out at the darkness of the night. The all consuming fear began to pull her under its control. It was as if the darkness had a life all its own. Even though she could not see anything alive in the blackness, it felt as if the very trees and mountains were intently watching her every move. Its deep, fathomless gaze followed her. Like a foreboding omen, the deafening silence of the forest filled her senses.
Sometime when she least expected it, there was a part of Katja that held no fear. Unlike many of the girls in her village, she knew that she held a formidable inner-strength. Although a woman she was tall, strong and accustomed to physical labor. After years of working alongside her father in the forest, she acquired the strength of a young man. With shoulder-length black hair, garbed in men's clothes she was often mistaken for her father's son. Katja knew that dressed as she was, whoever was keeping a watchful eye on her this night might not even bother her.
"Only young women go missing," Katja shakily repeated under her breath as she turned her attention back to the trail. Bolstered in the knowledge that she could pass for a young man, she turned, intent with making her way out of the lonely dense forest.
Before she could even take a step, she heard the snapping sound of tree limbs breaking. Something close to a grunt came from the darkness. Afraid to look, Katja slowly turned her gaze toward the murky shadows. As if always being present, two yellow glows remained fixed upon her. Like beacons in the night, it held her steady gaze. Occasionally the creature blinked, but never turned its eyes from her.
A cold deathly fear gripped the girl's heart as she witnessed the creature slowly moving from its dark confine. Unconsciously, Katja began to silently whisper a soft prayer of protection. Although not a religious person, she recalled all of the lessons of the church and began to earnestly whisper the incantations. Her eyes grew wide with fright as she watched the unholy creature lumber from the dark underbrush. From somewhere in her subconscious mind she heard her own whispered prayer like a distant echo.
Katja was helpless to move. As if the fear rooted her to the spot, she stood suddenly frozen as the creature sniffed the air, and then prowled menacingly near her. While the beat of her heart filled her hearing, she became mesmerized by the sight of the frightening animal. Through the dense, thick branches of the trees, the full moon's light fell upon the animal's form.
The sensible part of Katja's mind told her that this animal was a wolf. But the incoherent side, the superstitious side that now held her firmly in its grip, repeated the mantra over and over again. Wolf - werewolf.
Its size alone confirmed her darkest fear. Larger than any wolf that she had ever seen, the beast began to prance around its prey. The silver coat of fur seemed to shimmer in the moonlight and its paws, large enough to leave an indentation in the snow, paced as if filled with an eager anticipation. Yellow, fathomless eyes stared deeply into Katja's soul and the long, white fangs snarled an inhuman smile. As if filled with a sudden hunger, the werewolf released a low growl as it continued its merry gait.
With a cloud of impending doom upon her Katja grasped her ski poles tightly as she darted through the opening between the creature and the forest. No longer fatigued, her fear encouraged her body to move of its own accord. With each stride she took, she hoped that she was pushing herself further away from the murdering creature. Occasionally, she glanced over her shoulder but did not take time to focus on the scene behind her. With each gasp of exertion she heard the sounds of thunder each time the animal's paws landed in the snow. The young woman was no longer concerned with the temperature. As she made her escape, her scarf fell from her face to expose her tender flesh to the cold, frigid air. Despite this, she paid little attention to the stinging sensations. It was an ancillary nuisance, something that she might spare time to think about once she was safely spirited away to the protection of her village and home.
Although she had experienced a great deal in her short life, Katja knew that this was the first true terror that ever entered her soul. Never before had she known what it felt like to look death in the face, but now, as she made her way through the open clearing in the forest, she felt as if her life was slowly ebbing away with each step she took.
In the momentary span when fragments of thoughts swirled in a kaleidoscope of memories, she found herself thinking about her parents. She remembered the time when, at the tender age of five, she proclaimed to them that she would some day wed a woman. In the caverns of her mind she still could hear their laughter rising higher at her expense. Although it was never voiced, she learned not to ever speak this way again. Speaking openly of such things not only brought ridicule, but Katja later learned that it could be dangerous to her family. Women marrying women was an abomination to the church and god, they had said. And Katja believed them. No, she would never again voice her thoughts nor true longings, which was why when the new school teacher came to town she kept her thoughts a carefully bridled secret. She never again told her parents that she would marry a woman, and she never told them of the numerous dreams that she lately had for the newcomer in their village.
With each stroke of her arms, Katja thought of the smaller woman. Alina Savakov was not only the most exotic woman to have ever come to their sleepy village, but she was the most beautiful woman that Katja had ever laid her eyes on. Although only six years older than Katja, Alina's normally dark hair was sprinkled with white specks that gave it a salt and pepper appearance. When the morning rays of the sun landed upon her gently wavy hair, it made it appear like a silver crown of diamonds.
When Alina first arrived, her striking appearance caused many tongues to wag. Ever since the first workers began arriving to construct a railway system in their land, the villagers were accustomed to strangers settling in the hamlet. But few villagers had seen women traveling alone. Many knew that Alina's family was from the land of the Cossacks, but they found it odd that the three had no man to protect them. Some of the old biddies cackled that the newcomer was filled with magic. Only the dark arts could produce such striking changes in a woman so young. To travel alone with an old crone and a younger sibling required a powerful magic of protection, they had said. But Katja never listened to them. To her, Alina was the epitome of goodness and beauty. Every Sunday at mass, Katja made certain to sit in a place where she could secretly gaze upon the newcomer.
As the sole supporter of a younger sister and aged grandmother, Alina's demure was anything but timid. She was quick to inform the parents of the necessity of educating their young, even if the children held no hopes for a future. "Better to be a wise farmer than an ignorant goat," she always said. With her encouragement every child had entered into the school except Katja. At her age, not even Katja felt it necessary to attend to such matters, but this didn't stop her from watching the newcomer from afar. She would peer through a window as the gentle maiden taught the children.
Once when the schoolmarm thought she wasn't being watched, Katja moved closer to the open window of the home to closer examine the place. The school was not a dedicated building, but a room in the home that Alina shared with her grandmother and young sister. As Katja examined the area, she noticed the numerous vials of herbs along the window sill. At first glance one might mistake the vials for tools of necromancy, but Katja never gave this much thought. Instead, she turned her attention away from the items to the larger area where the children gathered. Just then, the schoolmistress brushed aside a long strand of her salt and pepper hair in time to glance at the open window. A whimsical smile crossed the soft features and for a moment, Katja felt the teacher look right through her soul. Embarrassed to have been caught, Katja quickly left and never returned to the place.
Now, with a hideous creature chasing her in the dark, she knew her end was near. At the end of her life, Katja felt regret. She wished that she had returned to the school to properly meet the beautiful enigma. Despite all of the other experiences that she could have obtained, she mourned the opportunity of expressing her true feelings to the stranger. But it was too late. With each stroke of her arms and each lunge of her legs, she felt death closing in. Before she could reach the dense underbrush of the distant forest, she felt something hard slamming against her back. Like a wagon filled with supplies, it plowed over her and pushed her face down into the snow. In a futile attempt, the young woman fought against the massive weight until her strength gave out. Gulping in air, she laid deathly still as she felt the werewolf against her back. As if sensing Katja's depleted energy, the beast rose from her prone form. Now freed, Katja rolled carefully onto her back, her skis had been discarded and the fastenings that kept them on were torn asunder.
From nearby she heard a low growl followed by the animal's release of air. Like a tired sigh, the beast sat on all haunches at it glared at Katja's prone form. Even in the darkness, the young woman noticed the animal's yellow eyes glowing in the blue moonlight. With a grunt the beast began to pace once more. Like a warrior coming back from battle, the werewolf tilted its head back, the silver mane of fur shimmered in the night as the beast began to release a loud howl.
As Katja watched the beast wail, she began her silent recitations. She did not know if the words of the church were in vain, but she whispered them as the nightmarish images of her demise flooded into her thoughts. Just then, like the quickly moving wind, the werewolf began an agitated gait. It growled and yipped as it nervously paced before her. With each step it took, the young woman felt herself mesmerized by the scene.
Katja had never witnessed magic, nor was she familiar with its roots. Yet as she lay prone before the beast, she felt herself being swept away in the beast's alchemy. As the creature howled and growled before her, the wind seemed to pick up around them. From somewhere deep in its fathomless swirls, a soft, gentle whisper called her name. The melodic tone soothed her fears. As the telltale sensations coursed through her body, Katja felt her heart beating rapidly for a different reason. Images of dancing nymphs swirled before her intoxicated visions. Their smooth, shapely bodies spurred a need deep within. Just as she felt her senses being pulled into the magical images, she felt a caress against her cheek. Whatever fear she once held was quelled into calmness.
There was a part of Katja that was aware of the falling snow. The freezing wind that earlier stung at her flesh no longer concerned the girl. The white icy blanket below her was like a long forgotten dream. As she lay mesmerized before the creature she watched as it daintily danced to a tune all its own. The wind, akin to the beast, seemed to run long, slender finger through the animals sliver pelt. Its fur ruffled in the breeze and slowly landed in even strands upon its massive frame. Through all of this, the wind sung out Katja's name. Held in the miasma of its unholy grip, Katja could only watch as the werewolf slowly metamorphosed before her eyes. Fur faded away to pink white flesh. Eyes that once burned with a yellow flame remained closed in deep concentration until all that was left was an unruly shock of silver and black hair that fell in gentle tendrils down a bare back.
"Alina," Katja's whisper became muffled in the wind.
To her amazement, the schoolmarm's body lightly danced in air. Where there was once a wolf, now stood the beauty of a woman she longed for. Alina seemed blissfully ignorant of Katja as she swayed in wanton abandon and her naked flesh was bathed in the wind. Her sublime movements reigned Katja in as she laid in blissful calmness. The divination coalesced around them as unholy warmth circled them like a comforting cocoon. When it was done, the smaller woman remained standing proud above her willing prey. As if aware of everything around them, Alina opened her eyes; the green gray haze of her pupils dilated from an unknown power.
"Werewolves are a myth," Katja's mind whispered. They were stories told in the dead of night when the full moon was at its zenith. While her mind confirmed that such tales existed only in children's nursery rhymes, the living nightmare stood mesmerizing beautiful before her.
From the moment she saw the new school teacher in their village, Katja never thought that she had seen a more beautiful woman. But now, as the mystifying creature stood before her, transformed from a werewolf to a woman, the village girl had to admit that Alina was even more beautiful than imagined. Fill with mystery and magic, the teacher seemed a woman of uncanny mystic, and Katja could not help but long for her. Yet there was a still small voice, the sound that was fostered as a child from years of kneeling before the blessed statue of the Christ that warned her of danger. Before the fear could reclaim her, the powerful hunter moved enticingly towards the young captive.
As if sensing the fear, Alina, no longer a werewolf, smiled seductively. With a soft, gentle touch she reached out and caressed the younger woman's cheek. At this single touch, Katja felt aflame with desire. The all too familiar moisture began to build between the soft folds of the young novice's legs. While the werewolf woman slowly explored the softness of the young captive's cheek, Katja examined her predator closely. She noticed Alina's finely chiseled facial features. Her nose was slender and ended in a gentle roundness. Cheeks that were accustomed to smiling held a rosy tint and her eyes, the color of sapphires in the sun, or gray coal in the shadows, held a deep intensity. When Alina's full, pouting lips curved into a devilish smile, Katja gasped as a shock wave of desire seared through her body.
Not certain of what had happened, the young captive looked sheepishly upon her tormentor. She could not help but notice the woman's nakedness. Her eyes that were so accustomed to turning away from another woman's bare flesh now gazed with longing at Alina. She unconsciously licked dry lips as her eyes moved upward from the patch of salt and pepper triangle between Alina's shapely legs to her round, ample bosoms. Pink hard nipples invited Katja, but for what purpose she did not know. As if reading her mind, Alina leaned over her, her smile wide and inviting as she lowered her breasts over the taller woman. Without other thoughts, Katja called upon her instincts and desires and began to explore this strange woman's offering. She savored the texture of such womanly flesh.
"Katja" the wind outside of the magical encasement beckoned her name. When it resounded again, the young woman opened her eyes in time to see the werewolf throw her head back, lips that once concealed sharp canines now parted to call out her young lover's name. Although Katja was new to love, she instinctively moved against the woman. Her tongue alternated between bathing the teacher's nipples, to suckling them tenderly.
With a slight guttural moan, Alina closed her eyes. Her long hair shimmered in the moonlight. Over and over, like a mantra sung by a thousand fallen angels, the werewolf softly called out her name. Katja felt as if this one moment in time was preordained in the stars and unable to stop herself, she followed the movements of her older lover.
Katja had heard the whispered comments of the married women in her village. She knew, more or less, what the act of love entailed. Yet in this aspect, lying below the full weight of the most beautiful woman - "no, werewolf," Katja mentally corrected herself. Only now in the presence of this creature, Katja was at a loss. As if sensing her unease, Alina descended upon her prey with skillful ease. No longer afraid of the magical beast, Katja closed her eyes as her lover's touch moved over her.
From somewhere in the back of her mind, the young woman knew that she was being unclothed, but she did not care. As if bewitched by a sorceress of the black art, Katja felt numb to all resistance. She found herself mirroring her lover's touches. At first her kisses were tentative, but as she felt the forceful energy of the hunter, she echoed the need. Filled with pleasure, the smaller woman pressed her soft velvety lips against Katja's lips, and then left a trail of kisses methodically down her chin and neck. Hands that once held razor sharp claws now danced artfully over the younger woman's flesh. In mirror movements, Katja mimicked the werewolf's touches. The alchemist's skilled hands and tongue teasingly bewitched her pupil in ways never before experienced.
Katja had no wish to fight against the wickedly delightful powers of this woman. Instead, she glanced down and watched as the silver hair woman parted Katja's naked, quivering legs. Where once there were the paws of a werewolf, now held the gentle fingers of a schoolmarm. As if pleased by her prey, the smaller woman smiled as her delicate fingers ran through Katja's triangle of dense black hair. At the instant touch, the young villager became mesmerized in the woman's spell.
With only a smile, the hunter bowed her head toward Katja's parted legs. Deep in the agony of pleasure, the young woman groaned uncontrollable as her hips rose to meet the werewolf's lips. At each stroke from her tongue, and every touch of slender fingers, Katja was completely under the beast's spell. Sometimes she glanced down and noticed the mirage image of a large massive beast. The wolf like head was completely covered by long silver hair, but then Alina would glance up and smile, her own pleasure evident in her hungry eyes.
Katja had never known such pleasure before. Not even when alone at night, when her siblings were asleep nearby and she touched herself gently had she ever experienced this delight. As she felt her body rising higher into the darkness of unearthly pleasure, the young villager abandoned herself completely. Unable and unwilling to stop the tide washing from her, she began to thrash in pleasure as little meowing sounds escaped her control.
Despite the cold, the novice felt the sweat slowly glistening on her skin. She found her body spasm uncontrollably as her body arched upward to receive the alluring exploration. Somewhere in the back of her mind she caught a faint hint of musk. The pure animal scent acted like an aphrodisiac to her long denied lust. While the outside of their fortress was raging in the blistering snow, the enclave of their magical cocoon kept them safe and warm. Wrapped in this cavern of magic, Katja felt the awesome powers of darkness. Like a chalice filled with life giving waters, Alina sent forth her magical stream and baptized the young woman. When it was over there was not a single part of their bodies that was not explored and just as quickly as it began, their spiritual revelry ended in a pagan ritual as they spilled their water upon the ground.
Although drained, Katja felt every fiber of her being suddenly alive. Through the hazy swirl of magical clouds, she was aware of the twinkling stars. Like angles gazing down, they seemed to sparkle in pleasure. With eyes close, Katja felt her lover's tender embrace, and then it disappeared.
As the warm winds vanished, a slow chill began to cover Katja's exposed flesh. At the sudden change, she regained her senses. Sitting bolt upright, she looked around and saw only darkness. The howl of the wind rustled through the tall tree branches as snow dust began to cover her prone form. With a shiver, the young woman quickly grabbed her clothing and hastily dressed in the dark. Her eyes glanced around the darkness in search of the werewolf. When the beast was not found, Katja felt an uncontrollable shiver run up her spine. She wondered if she was held hostage by a diabolical fend, or if she had just experienced the illusion of a demon.
When she was fully dressed, Katja donned her skis and began the steady strides to her village. Her thoughts were a chaotic jumble of wild images and childish superstitions. At first she became afraid that she had been bewitched, that the encounter was not real but something dreamed up in her mind. Then she feared that it had been real, and the demon that inhabited the werewolf's form was a shape shifter, a minion of the underworld. But even as she thought this, the beautiful image of Alina crossed her mind and she knew that such a beauty could never be a curse.
Just as this thought entered, she saw a shadow running ahead of her. At first it was a naked female form, but as bare legs carried the woman through the snow, the shapely limbs morphed and shifted before Katja's eyes. Before the girl could contemplate this, the large silver beast was on all fours running ahead of her. When they neared the village, the werewolf disappeared in the thick underbrush. As her skis drew closer to her home, the tall woman stopped at the edge of the village. In the darkness of the night, she heard her own heavy breathing and the crackling of the snow on the ground. Longing to see the magical woman, Katja glanced out at the empty darkness. Only the musky scent of the creature remained as evidence that the encounter was real and not a dream of a mad woman.
As if hearing her forlorn thoughts, a movement at the top of the hill caught her attention. She turned in time to see bright yellow eyes gazing down at her. Then, like a frightened deer, the werewolf turned and disappeared within the forest's shadows. When the beast reached the top of the cliff it stopped, perched upon a large boulder and looked down at the mortal woman. With a pitiful cry of longing and desire, the werewolf released a baleful howl that echoed over the valley.
Katja understood the deep emotions. She knew what it felt like to be alone in a cold and lonely world. Although surrounded by family, the tall girl had never escaped the feelings that she was an anomaly, an outsider who did not belong. Just as the wolf released a mournful cry, Katja felt her heart weep for a kindred spirit who could fill her days with laughter and nights with love. When she heard the soulful lamentations rolling over the land, Katja raised a gloved hand and waved farewell to her beast lover.
To her people werewolves were a myth. They were creatures that existed in the tales of old. Their existence was deemed unholy and against nature. Because of this, Katja knew that fate would arise should the villagers discover the origin of the werewolf. Knowing their wrath, she promised to keep the secret locked within her heart. No one would hear of this encounter and she would never acknowledge. For Alina's safety, whatever necromancy had turned the mere woman into the beast would never be revealed by Katja.
As she made her way to her parents abode, many thoughts rambled through her mind. Katja knew that nothing could ever come of such a union. Although never talked about openly, she knew that there must be laws that forbid the unholy marriage of two women. With this thought in mind she made it safely from the darkness and entered the warmth of her home.
In the following days Katja found her mind filled with the memories of that night. Whenever she had a chance, she went to the school teacher's home but the woman gave no evidence of remembering the encounter. After a while the young woman even began to wonder if it had been real or a diabolical spell that was placed upon her. When days passed and Alina gave no hint of desire for her, Katja grew despondent and turned her attention to her chores.
Just when she was ready to give up all hope a low sound caught her attention. Turning from the pile of wood that she was chopping, she watched as the pedagogue walked deliberately through the open courtyard toward her. When a beast, Alina was taller and larger frame than Katja, but as a mere woman she was small and delicately built. With an arch of a brow Katja set down her ax down as she wiped the sweat from her brow. The gently cooling breeze rustled through the trees as a promise of spring.
Alina smiled at her before shyly turning her gaze away. Like a cat hiding a treat, the smaller woman glanced around the woodshed as if searching for bait. When the school teacher realized that they were alone, the woman tilted her head. Her salt and pepper hair fanned seductively over her shoulders. When a sparkle of sun hit her seductive eyes, they glowed an iridescent gold, but quickly turned to green and then blue.
"So?" Alina's voice was a low murmur. "You are no longer fearful of the night?"
Katja allowed the memories of her encounter to resurface with vigor.
"No, I am not fearful of darkness. I look forward to it, I long for it," she entered the dialogue like a well trained spy.
"Perhaps," the schoolmarm gave her a coquettish smile, "perhaps you might find the afternoon sun to your delight as well?"
At these words Katja felt the moisture begin to form between her legs. She looked from the high pile of wood toward her family's dwelling. Knowing that they would not miss her, she cast a crooked grin to the smaller woman.
"I believe such an experience would indeed be delightful," she answered the woman's unspoken invitation.
Alina allowed her smile to grow as she turned and began to walk back to the home that she shared with her grandmother and sister. With a gentle swaying of her hips, the teacher allowed her wily ways to entice Katja. The tall woman had no need of enticement. Instead, she inhaled deeply as she imaged all of the pleasures that awaited her at the schoolmarm's home.
To some people werewolves were a myth. To others they were unholy specters conjured from the black arts. Because of this many villagers were fearful of the night, but not Katja. For Katja, there was nothing to fear in the night and only endless bliss to receive. With this in mind, she crossed the threshold of Alina's home and secured the door behind them.