She stood at a large wooden table in the center of the room and surveyed her work. Golden mid-afternoon sunlight streamed in from the open door and the window to its left, illuminating the flour-covered table top. Her hair was pinned at the nape of her neck but as she turned her head, the fine hairs framing her face caught the light.
She brushed the last bit of flour on her hands off and wiped them on her apron for good measure, apparently satisfied by what she saw. A basket filled with bread covered by a checkered cloth sat on the table, its handles raised expectantly in preparation for the upcoming journey.
Only when a shadow darkened the room did her concentration waver. She looked up.
“Are you leaving?” The Huntsman asked, as he ducked down into the doorframe.
She nodded imperceptibly, still absorbed in her preparations, and looked back at the table. He frowned slightly at her response but didn’t press her for more information.
She tucked the checkered cloth further into the basket and moved toward the door to gather up her cloak. The Huntsman reached it before she could and lifted it down from its hook. He swept it behind her, allowing her to adjust it over her shoulders, and grasped the heavy velvet ties that had become nestled in between her breasts. He saw that she was still distracted in anticipation of her journey, for she hadn’t truly yet made eye contact with him, and he drew the ties of her cloak across her throat perhaps a little tighter than he would have ordinarily. She did not seem to notice.
He cupped her chin in one hand and drew her face up toward his. “Do you remember your instructions?” He asked, and furrowed his brow as he repeated them. “Do not stray from the path. The forest is filled with dangerous magic this time of year. And be especially watchful for the Wolf.”
Again she nodded, but this time a little more vigorously. She would have answered audibly had his grip not been so tight on her jaw. Though she met his gaze, she was still half thinking of the warm sun on her skin, birdsong and the crunch of leaves underfoot filling her ears, and the crisp fall air in her nostrils, so she missed the seriousness of his tone.
The Huntsman released his grip and handed her the basket, which she nestled in the crook of her left arm. With her other hand she adjusted the collar of her cloak.
“I expect you before dark,” the Huntsman said.
“Yes, Huntsman” she dutifully replied. “I will be back before dark.” She gathered her cloak and skirts in close and stepped over the threshold. She turned back to look at him once more, gave him a small, shy smile, and set down the narrow path into the woods. She didn’t see the tension in his jaw or that he held his palms flat against his thighs to hide the temptation to clench his fists.
The Huntsman watched her from the door of his cabin until the deep red of her cloak, like fire in the sunlight, was no longer visible through the trees.
—
She stepped carefully and purposefully along the path with the full intention of heeding the Huntsman’s warning. She did not have far to go, at all, to deliver the bread, and planned on returning immediately so as to be back before dark. She had not been in the forest at night before, or even so late in the day as it was now.
But temptation comes in many forms and she had always found the forest particularly alluring. She could hear birds flitting overhead. Every so often leaves fell as they alighted on tree branches and took off again in a flurry of wing beats. Water from yesterday’s rain, still pooled on leaves above, cascaded down and showered her. A single droplet landed on her face and coursed down the curve of her cheek like a teardrop. She absentmindedly brushed it away.
Further along the path the trees thinned and bunches of wildflowers grew, their faces turned upward to meet the sunlight flooding down through the opening in the leafy canopy. The warmth on her face and her cloak made her feel sleepy, so she stopped to take a short break. She entered the clearing and plucked some of the wildflowers, tucking their stems into the folds of the checkered cloth in her basket.
She was momentarily overwhelmed by the heady scent of the blossoms and the hum of insects. She watched a honeybee delicately part the petals of a nearby bloom, its long proboscis penetrating deeply in order to sample the sweet nectar within.
A sharp gust of cool wind broke her from her reverie. The hem of her cloak whipped her bare calves, stinging her skin, as it blew behind her. While she had been lost in thought, the sun had sunk down toward the horizon. The forest, once warm and welcoming, had become gloomy. Long, deep shadows crossed the path and the birds and insects grew eerily quiet. She looked around, startled by the sudden change. The air now felt heavy and still.
She felt a momentary longing for the cabin and the Huntsman but knew that she was too far to turn back. She picked up the basket and set out at a much quicker pace than before.
As she traveled along, the shadows grew deeper and longer as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The still air pressed in around her like a shroud. She knew the old woman’s cabin was another ten minutes by foot, but she worried she wouldn’t make it before the last of the daylight disappeared. She felt a prickle of fear at the back of her neck when she remembered the Huntsman’s warning.
In the distance, a wolf howled. She dropped her basket and ran.
—
She flew down the path with her cloak flapping behind her. Her heartbeat was echoed only by the pounding of her feet on the ground, which was deafening in the oppressive silence. When she approached the small clearing, she stopped just short of it in shock. The old women’s cabin still stood, but there was no smoke snaking from the chimney. No light shone out from the windows. And the door, open just slightly ajar, hung crooked on iron hinges.
By this time, it was nearly completely dark. Only the last rays of sunlight and the well-worn path had served to guide her here. She tried to quell her growing trepidation at having disobeyed the Huntsman. The thought of his displeasure at her failure to return in time frightened her almost as much as the vacant cabin before her. She slowly crept forward, uncertain at what she would find within. A wolf howled again, and this time the sound was much closer behind her. Without further hesitation she dashed to the front door and slipped inside.
She knew the one-room cabin by heart and was able to feel her way to the four poster bed. She ran her hand over the tufted quilt. It was tucked in at the foot and smoothed up over the down pillows at the head. The cabin was tidy; there was nothing strewn on the floor. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that it was completely empty save for an iron pot hanging over the clean-swept hearth and a single chair at a small table below the only window.
She heard another howl pierce through the silence. It was so close that from within the cabin she could not tell whether the creature was still behind her on the trail or had circled around her, hot on her scent. She moved to try to secure the door but it would not budge – a deep scratch in the floor radiated from the door’s frame to where its corner was now jammed into the floorboards.
Panicked now, she lifted her skirts up to her knees and crouched down to survey the only possible hiding place. A small trunk underneath the foot of the bed could at least serve to protect her from a cursory glance inside the cabin. She knelt down. The wooden floor was rough and large splinters punctured her skin as she hastily scrambled for cover.
The fourth howl shattered the silence, causing the hair on her arms to stand up. The trunk blocked her view of the door but she knew that the Wolf was standing in the doorframe. Her breaths grew shorter and shallower as fear gripped her. A small trickle of blood from the wounds on her knee ran down her calf, and she tried to wipe it away with her cloak. Straw poking through the mattress ticking above her scratched her face and she tried to breathe through the dust.
The door screeched in protest as it was forced further open and again it was silent. In the quiet, she could hear several sudden sharp intakes of breath as he sniffed the air. “I can smell how afraid you are, my girl,” the Wolf growled into the nearly empty cabin. She began to shiver uncontrollably.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lf2842/unheeded_warning_part_one_nonconsent_fantasy
Part 2 please!
Nice start let’s get it on!