Once upon a time not so different from
our own, in a land not so far away, Isabelle lived with the constant hope that
one day her bland existence could be changed. At every possible chance, she
stole precious moments with the romance novels she loved and cherished so.
She craved passion. The dream of being swept into the strong arms of the
handsome men described by Harlequin writers was nearly unbearable. She could
picture moonlit walks, candlelight; hear the waves on isolated beaches as they
crashed onto the shore. Isabelle longed to be enraptured by Mr. Right, to be swept into his eyes
and drown there in the pools of desire they held for her.
Every day, with the turn of a page, she was swept into the shoes of the
pig-headed or jilted women of the novels. The desire for such a strong
ever-lasting love put her to sleep each night, and brought a smile to her face
as the daylight first peeked through her lacy curtains. These same thoughts were
often responsible for messing up the nearly constant stream of orders from the
endless barrage of café customers.
If she'd been willing, Isabelle wouldn't have had to go far for the love she
ached for. Gerald Roche, prince of the Roche Café and heir to the business,
bragged all over the small mountainside town of his desire to have Isabelle. He
wasn't unattractive in physical appearance. It was the reputation and his snide
manner and lack of ethics that forced her to not only refuse him, but ignore him
as best as she could.
It was for this reason that when Isabelle's annual vacation came about, she
opted for a peaceful week in her father's cabin in the woods near the top of the
mountain. He didn't want her to go; begged her to stay and relax at home. "Papa,
you know I can't bear to have Gerald over here every day, pawing at me and begging my hand in
marriage."
"Mr. Roche is not a bad match, Isabelle," he reminded her.
Finally, Isabelle sighed. "Papa, you give me this week in the cabin, and if I
have not found the love I crave, I shall marry Gerald."
The cabin had sat empty for the last seven years, since Isabelle's mother passed
away. Papa didn't like the idea of anyone going to the cabin, where they'd spent
many happy summers during their daughter's childhood, but Isabelle going alone? He hated the idea.
But, she didn't ask for much, and he knew she'd be unable to find the love she
desired in one week in the mountains alone, so he relented, for the greater good. After all, upon return,
she would exchange marriage vows and would never have to work again.
*****
Isabelle, finished loading her knapsacks with supplies, gave the reins and
saddle one last check and mounted the ebony horse. It wasn't the most
comfortable mode of transportation, but by far the best way to amble to the top
of the mountain, unless one was particularly fond of hiking. She gave Chinook's
haunches a nudge and he began a slow walk up the worn path at the base of the
mountain. Closer to the treeline, she turned and waved to her father, certain he
wouldn't stop worrying until she returned a week later.
By mid-day, when Isabelle stopped for lunch on the rocky ridge, she was overly
warmed by the sun, perspiring, and growing tired. She could only imagine how
poor Chinook was holding up. She shed the thick flannel that provided a barrier
of warmth during the early morning hours and tied it around her waist. Only four more hours to the
cabin.
The fresh mountain air heightened her enjoyment of the adventure, and before
long, she stood atop the craggy ridge, looking upon the village below, pondering
the identity of her Prince Charming, again. What a fool, she'd been. How could
she have made such a bargain with her father? Her heart sank with the realization that soon she'd be
announcing her engagement to Gerald Roche to all of her friends. And as her
smile faded, she turned back to Chinook, only to see his rear disappear behind
some rocks as he headed back the way they'd come. It didn't take long to
determine what spooked him. Near where she'd left him was the snarling furry
face of the biggest white wolf she'd ever seen!
For safety, Papa made her take the rifle. She hated the thing; didn't even want
to load it, but had. Loaded or not, it didn't matter now. The rifle rested with
Chinook and she had no direction to go except over the edge, which she knew she wouldn't survive.
Nothing but deep chasms filled with boulders laid all those hundreds of feet
below.
Isabelle put up her palms towards the wolf. "Easy, boy. Eas-s-y." Over her
shoulder, she kept an eye on her footing as she moved slowly to the right, ready
to duck, should the wolf lunge at her. With proper timing, he'd soar over the edge. It was then that she
heard another sound, even more foreign than the sound of the wolf's throaty
growl - the very distinct scream of a cougar. She turned to see it appear over
the edge of the rocks, not really sure where it came from. The wolf meant her no
harm; he intended to protect her, she realized with fascination as she stared at
the amazing snow-white animal.
Her situation was precarious to say the least and in spite of her determination
to prove herself fully capable and tougher than most women, the thought of being
caught in a vicious struggle between a cougar and wolf wasn't something she
wanted to dwell on. Isabelle veered to one side, desperately struggling to
maintain control. She slowly eased toward the path as quietly as possible, only
vaguely aware of the brawl as it began near the edge of the cliff. For all she
knew, the wolf wasn't defending her, but his next meal.
Once on the path, Isabelle bolted back toward the bottom of the hill, anxious to
put some distance between her and the wild animals. She turned to see if either
had won yet and was chasing after her, and just as she did, she tripped over a
bared root in the path and landed hard, managing to hit her head on a rock as
she did. Consciousness slipped away from her and her final thought was that she
would no longer have to being married to a Roche.
*****
A whimper near her ear brought Isabelle back to alertness. She saw the wolf's
white fur and jolted awake, backing away from him even as the bump on her
forehead throbbed in disagreement with the quick movement. The pain subsided and
she realized the wolf had licked her cheek before she'd retreated. Isabelle
stared at him curiously, and oddly enough, he cocked his head to the side and
returned her gaze. "You're not so terrible, are you?" she asked him.
The wolf limped over to her and licked her hand, proving that he wasn't. "Oh,
you're hurt!" Her fingers trembled when she reached for the canine's leg and
paw, fully aware that while gentle, he was still a wild animal and could lunge
at her just as surely as she was sitting there trusting him. "That's a pretty
deep scratch, and unfortunately all my supplies took off back down the
mountain." She squinted up at the sky to see the location of the sun. "It'd be
dark before we catch up to them. We best find cover for the night. I don't think
you'll make it four hours to the cabin."
He managed a few steps and turned to look at her. His eyes pierced hers with
such a fierce intensity, for a moment, Isabelle saw something human in them. No,
she thought. "Must be a concussion." He limped forward and again stopped to look
back at her. "You want me to follow you? Well, if you can do it, I guess I can."
Her head pounded again with the movement, but once she stood upright it eased.
The wolf hobbled ahead of her, clearly with a destination in mind, and the whole
time, she prattled on as they journeyed, and the oddest thing was that Isabelle
felt - no, she knew he could understand every word she uttered. After nearly an
hour, he led her to a creek and waited for her to bend down next to him and
scoop some water out for herself before lapping up a drink of his own. They
didn't rest long and after another half an hour they arrived at an old shack so overrun with greenery, it was barely visible.
Isabelle pushed her way inside, wondering for a flickering moment if the wolf
wasn't wild at all, but maybe someone's pet. "Hello?" Something skittered behind
the cupboards, but that was all that answered her call. "Is this where you
stay?" she asked the wolf. "You don't have a pack to run with?" His eyes met
hers and pressed inward to the depths of her soul, making her pulse race with
emotion unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The intensity of his gaze
unnerved her. No human ever said this much to her with just a look.
She crossed to the wooden chair in the corner and sat down. "What is it about
you?" The wolf crossed to her and laid his head on her lap, his sad eyes
reaching out to her. 'I wish I could tell you,' was what she believed his thoughts were. The melancholy that
pooled there brought a tear to her eye. Isabelle touched his face with her
hands; one cupping the underside of his jaw and the other stroking the pure
white of the soft fur of his cheek. "You're truly beautiful," she whispered. "So
gentle." She giggled aloud. "Even polite, which is morethan I can say about
Gerald Roche." To her surprise, the wolf jolted his head back and his upper lip
curled up into a snarl. "Yeah, I don't much like him either," she agreed.
He laid his head back in her lap again, and Isabelle closed her eyes. For long
moments, they sat in the stillness, surrounded by the forest and the familiar
sounds that always offered comfort.
Isabelle pondered the hopeless mess that she'd gotten herself into by making the
agreement with her father. He would never allow her to back out of the deal, and
probably had, in fact, already informed the conceited Mr. Roche of the arrangement.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she opened her eyes when she felt a comforting
lick on her hand. "I wish I could just stay here with you and forever run free."
"As you wish, my dear." The voice came from the doorway, from a kindly old woman
wrapped in a large blue shawl. Isabelle recognized her as the elderly woman
rumored to be the local witch. "You've lived a good life with a pure heart, and
Rio seems particularly fond of you. Are you certain this is your wish?"
Isabelle was amazed at the offer. She believed that magick existed in all
things, but never thought this was her destiny. What awaited her, if not this?
Marriage to a man she didn't love? A constant curiosity of what her life could have been without him? Her
fingers found the fur of the wolf named Rio and her eyes found his again. "Yes,"
she replied, "I'm certain."
The woman smiled a toothless grin and uttered a few unintelligible words.
Isabelle felt a very strange tingling sensation course through her body. Rio
barked twice, and in seconds, she was at eye level with him. She gazed down at
her hands to see that they were now tipped with paws; as snow-white as Rio.
"Aren't you a beauty, Bella," the woman crooned at her. Rio again barked, as if
in agreement and then nuzzled against Isabelle's face, affection that she
readily returned. "You two do make a handsome couple, Rio. He's been waiting for
you, Bella, for over a year now. He came to me as a human, too, and I told him
the only way he'd find his true love was this way. I think he was starting to
worry about your arrival. I always told him he'd know when he saw her." She
smiled again at the animals. "You know what's so special about wolves? They mate
for life. Some humans can't even do that."
And Rio and Bella lived happily ever after.
