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She wanted to leave, to go home. Her father would understand. Together they would find a way to defeat the Beast. She refused to be his prisoner one more night. She ran so far and so deep into the forest she could no longer see the sky overhead; the trees were tall and thick, and obscured every bit of light the moon might have lent. The tree branches looked menacing, like witches’ hands seeking her death, and she heard howls in the distance. She was alone and afraid.
The odd sisters laughed and stomped their boots in outright bliss when they saw through Pflanze’s eyes what was happening to Belle. The Beast had chased away any hope of breaking the curse. They sang and danced, laughing all the while. “The Beast chased away his chance to break the curse!” “The girl is going to die!”
If Circe were there, she’d want to help the poor girl, but her older sisters had something else entirely in mind. They were quite happy with themselves. They’d thought ahead; they’d thought to keep Circe busy with the sea witch. They’d asked Ursula to keep her there for as long as she could manage. They didn’t want their little sister meddling in their plans. Circe didn’t embrace death the way her sisters did. She wouldn’t approve.
Lucinda took a little pouch that was tied to the belt around her impossibly small waist. Inside the pouch was a deep purple powder, which she sprinkled into the fireplace. A terrible black smoke rose from the fire, taking the form of a wolf’s head. Its dead shadowy eyes glowed a blazing copper.
Lucinda spoke. “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
The witches laughed and watched the wolves advance on Belle. They encircled her, growling at her, showing their terrible sharp teeth. They snapped at her, one of them ripping her dress. She screamed.
This time the sisters said the words together: “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
Belle screamed again, keenly aware she was about to die. There was nothing she could do! She had nothing with which to protect herself. She looked for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon.
The sisters continued their chanting. “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
The wolves were upon her. How she wished she could see her father just one more time before she died; she couldn’t bear to think of him living in a world without her. He would be lost.
“Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!” The sisters were in a lunatic trance. Lucinda, delving even further into their manic frenzy, changed the chant: “Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
Something flew past Belle—another wolf, she thought, but no, it was enormous. Far too big to be a wolf. She didn’t know what was happening. But the sisters saw; they knew what it was.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
The creature was impossibly large and ferocious, with huge talon-like claws and sharp terrible teeth. Belle was in sheer panic as the sisters’ gruesome chant grew louder and more feverish.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
Belle didn’t want to die. She’d hardly had a chance to experience life. So far she’d simply read about the many things she’d like to experience, but she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do them. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to be brave, trying not to regret her choices.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
The creature rushed past her, attacking the wolves, killing them all in a bloody slaughter. It all happened so quickly Belle hardly had time to react before it was over. She looked up and saw she was surrounded by blood. The earth was soaked in it; everywhere she looked she saw death. Blood, fur, and flesh. It was terrible. What sort of monster could do this? She wanted to run but saw the creature. He looked hurt. The monster that had saved her life was going to die; he was bruised and bleeding, and exhausted from the fight. Her heart went out to him. Something inside Belle told her not to run, told her the creature needed her help.
The sisters watched in shock, realizing their mistake. They should never have sent those wolves to kill Belle. The Beast was chasing her into the woods because he was angry; his rage would have overtaken him and he would have killed her himself. The wolves were a distraction. The wolves were their mistake. The wolves were dead and scattered on the forest floor. The wolves’ blood was black and sticky on the creature’s paws. The wolves would bring them together.
The witches’ only solace was that Belle had seen the Beast for what he was. She had seen the violence he was capable of.
“She will be repulsed by him! Sickened by the death that surrounds him!”
But if any one of us were there, standing near that fire,
and could see the looks on the sisters’ faces, we would see the sister witches feared the contrary. Why? Because they could see the look on Belle’s face. They could detect her compassion for the Beast. After all, he had just saved her life. The odd sisters decided they needed to take further action.
“It’s time to send Pflanze to see Gaston.”
“Oh yes, Sister! I’m sure he would like to know where his dearest Belle has gotten off to!”
And Ruby added, “I bet he would, and I am sure if anyone could destroy the Beast, it would be him!”
Belle wasn’t the sort of girl who got bored easily, but she found herself tired of being trapped withindoors. It was too cold to go outside, so she sat idly in the small study next to the fire, wondering when she would see the Beast.
She had grown less cross with him since he had saved her from the wolves, but she couldn’t forget why she had run out into the forest, and into danger: his terrible temper. She played the scene in her head over and over. The wolves, the woods, the Beast, the blood. She had almost died that night because of his rage, and why? Because she touched his precious rose? Though her anger and fear hadn’t stopped her mending his wounds, had it? She supposed it was the least she could do after he’d saved her life.
Oh, stop this! she thought. She spent far too much time thinking. That was all she did.
Think.
