The lake itself was at least a mile across, maybe more. The wind stirred the snow on its surface, which swirled and danced and fell apart, small whirlwinds obscuring the castle from view. By the time we passed beneath the shadow of that mountain, the sun was setting once again, staining the walls of the keep a deep pink. The castle hugged the mountain, and three towers erupted from behind the battlements. The central tower rose above the others, marching up the side of the mountain like an absurd chimney. At the very top, a candle flickered.

It was only as we passed through the huge iron gate that I noticed the roses. They grew in abundance along the lakeshore and covered the stones like enchanted ivy. A sob clawed at my chest.

The woman helped me down off the bear. My legs collapsed as they hit the ground, weak and useless. Snow spilled into my collar, chill against my breast, and I gazed up at the bear looming like a mountain above me.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

It took me several long moments to determine whether she was talking to me or the bear. My eyes traveled reluctantly away from the shaggy flanks to her face. No flicker of expression betrayed the emotions behind her mask of ice. Green eyes. Dark hair. Red lips. Her features burned like cold iron, and I flinched away from them.

How could I be hungry? How could I think of food when my legs were numb with cold and I was as far away from home as it was possible to be?

My stomach grumbled.

The snow bit deeper into my knees.

The stranger extended a gloved hand and I took it, wobbling as my legs remembered their duty.

She led me through a darkened stable that smelled of wolf, bear, and wild things my nose could not identify, a heady, animal musk that sent my muscles into new spasms of terror. Heavy stone arches and broad timbers delineated the stalls, and the wood bore the dark stains of centuries. A few long hairs clung to the roughened doors, the only evidence that horses had once dwelt there. At the end of the stable stood another stone archway, large enough to accommodate a rider on horseback. The door swung open on greased hinges at her touch.

Three of the wolves accompanied us; the rest remained in the stable, where I heard the distinctive sounds of carnivores ripping into flesh. I was glad of the darkness. I did not want to know what her creatures fed on. The woman lit a torch from a sconce and went on. The sound of the striking flint echoed, emphasizing the cavernous feel of the place, and shadows danced on the walls, throwing the rangy silhouettes of the wolves into sharp relief.