Red Cloak - Elena

I ran in the dark Kalip Forest, my only light the small twinkle of millions of stars due to the missing moon. It was what my village called the 'Witching Hour' which was quite justified judging on what I was running from. Not exactly a witch. Worse. A werewolf.

The dead leaves that have fallen due to the chill autumn weather crunched beneath by boots. I heard he beast roar as he gained on me. What was that? In the distance? A red piece of fabric waving in the autumn wind! I picked up my pace as sprinted to the signal of possible safety.

It was what appeared to be a red cloak waving in the wind. It was in front of a small cottage. I heard the breath of the werewolf as he ran after me. I finally made it to the cottage and tried the door. It flew open and I ran in. I slammed the door shut just as the beast slammed into it itself. I stood against the door, waiting for some notion the beast left.

I waited two hours, though it seemed like an endless eternity, until I peeked outside. It was gone. I shut the door and fumbled my way around to find candles. I hit what must've been a table and yelped. I reached down to assist my foot when I grabbed what felt like a match box. I picked it up and fumbled as I grabbed a precious match and lit it. The small, orange flame lit the room. A candle was a mere foot away, so I lit it.

In quick minutes, all 10 candles in the room were lit. The room was a mix of three rooms. A bedroom, kitchen, and living area. There was a small bed in the right corner of the room, a dresser beside it. On the far other side of the room was an old stove, oven, and an empty basin of a sink. In between the two areas, two dusty velvet armchairs, a low table, and an antique carpet. I looked myself over in the window reflection. My pale blue dress was dirty and ripped to practical shreds, my auburn hair ripped from its once perfect braids. My cloak was absolutely ruined and impossible to be used ever again. My boots were dusty and in need of desperate repairs. I had a scratch on my right forearm. It was bleeding while I ran, but clotted up now. A brisk chill filled the room and my mind went to the one thing that saved me. The red cloak.

I ran to the door and peeked outside. Once I decided it was safe, I ran out. The cloak was too high on a hook for me to reach, but I didn't give up. I heard footsteps and ducked behind an outside table for cover. The steps neared and I held my breath as the wood of the porch creaked. I carefully grabbed a nearby stick as a weapon if I need to defend myself. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my hair and yanked my upward. I yelped and dropped my stick from the pain. I couldn't see my attacker, so I flailed and thrashed against their hold. They put a hand over my mouth and carried me inside.

The door slammed and I was thrown into the small table. I faced the door to find someone I didn't expect. A handsome man stood there. He was muscular, but not to where it was obnoxious. He had blonde hair that was clean cut and enchanting hazel green eyes. He had no freckles, but specks of dirt on his flawless face. He was a few inches taller then me. What stopped me from talking to him was the bloody ax in his mighty hands.

"Who are you?" He snapped, pointing his ax at my face. I swallowed and collected myself. "Elena. Elena MacBeth. Who are you?" I challenged. I thanked God that my voice remained steady. His eyes narrowed at me and he lowered his ax. He set it beside the door and extended a hand to help me up. Surprised, I took it. He hoisted me up with ease. "Sam." He said, walking back outside. Intrigued by this new person, I followed. I shivered against the cold air as I followed him to the end of the porch. He carefully removed the red cloak from its spot. He handed it to me and I took it. I hesitantly wrapped it around me.

I followed Sam back inside and shut the door behind me. He sat in one chair and I sat in the other. "Why are you here?" He asked. He studied me as I thought of my answer. "Well, I was taking a walk when I got lost. Then night fell and I heard an awful howl. I saw a...beast...and ran. I ran for hours before I found your house and took shelter. Then you found me." I explained. He went rigid at the word 'beast.' "Beast?" He questioned.

"Yes. You won't believe what type." I said sheepishly. He stared me down, forcing an explanation. "Werewolf." I blurted out. His eyes widened, his only proof of surprise. "And you lived?" He questioned. I nodded and he glanced at his bloody ax by the door. "Have you bled at all?" He asked. I remembered my cut and bit my lip. I showed it to him with a nod. He cursed wildly and I blinked. Such language! I like him. "You stay here for the next fortnight." He said.

I gasped. "A fortnight?! No way!" I argued. "Yes!" He insisted. "It knows your blood's smell! It will never forget!" He snapped. I cursed at the threat. He blinked at my language. "And what will I do here in that time?!" I asked. He smirked. "I don't do housework." I said in warning. He shook his head. "I will train you." I tilted my head in question. "That werewolf will always remember you. If you fall into it's 50 mile smell range, it will hunt you down. I will train you to fight and kill the beast." Sam said with pride. I smirked, mine matching his own.

"I've always wanted to learn to fight." I said. He gave me a small nod. "We start at sunrise. After those two weeks, you go back home." He said sternly. I nodded. "And I want to know one thing." I said. He looked at me. "Is your full name Samuel?" He laughed. "You'll never know."