#mangledwolf

                        jealousy festered within her. why? it was not like peter was hers. his words still ringing in her ears; we had our fun, that’s all it was. he had not meant that, she did not believe it to be true. what she did believe, however, was that he was attempting to convince himself. the way he had moved with rose, bodies together . . . jaw tenses, and their gazes meet, but valerie refuses to hold it. two could play this game. “ rox, put your hands on me, ” she urgently told her, words had come out of her before daring to think. wait . . . what?, the other woman questioned, but was already being pulled out onto the dancefloor. “ trust me, ” valerie muttered before the pair found themselves pressed close together, bodies moving in a somewhat perfect rhythm. dancing had never been roxanne’s strong suit. still, she carried on for the sake of her friend. eyes were on them from every corner of the room. in the other woman’s eyes, it was easy to tell that she was nervous. “ hey, don’t look at them. look at me, ” she encouraged her, offering a reassuring smile. it was when her gaze, slowly and carefully, shifts over to peter that she takes note that he is watching, too. good, perhaps now that same blood-boiling sensation would overcome him as it had her. she wanted him to know longing, to know jealousy and need. just as she had. even now, it creates a pit in her stomach.

                        valerie had never been a social person, not in the same way that lucie was. she is a creature of habit. her circle remains small, almost non-existent. that is how she prefers for it to be. some would think her to be a mute or some sort of lone wolf if not for her sister. socializing never came as easily now as it once did. today, the group of girls found themselves amongst the woodcutters. rose had been all too excited. potential conquests, she had called them. it made valerie scoff. she, of course, had no interest in such activities. she only accompanied them knowing she would never hear the end of it otherwise. the men of daggerhorn viewed valerie as a prize to be won. she had been dubbed the most beautiful in their village, although she would beg to differ. lucie was truly the most beautiful. inside and out. honestly, it was a shame no one else acknowledged that. she was the one worthy of the praise, the adoration, the suitors; valerie wanted none of it. dark hues drift over the faces of the woodcutters, men that she had known her entire life. her father had worked alongside them long before his children. they had seen lucie and valerie in all the phases of life thus far. it was the new additions that had brought the girls here, though. now was the time to start making names for themselves, finding their path, and bringing honor. amongst them was a mysterious figure, clothed in all black and more separated from the rest of the group. there was something . . . familiar. something she had recognized immediately. could it be him? of course not, what a silly thought. her gaze could not move from him. all she could manage to do was stare in awe. it was when his head raised, and their gazes finally met, that recognition fully set in. peter. her peter had returned.