Chapter Text
samstag – twilight
It’s not long after then that the lads come – they’re full of praise and envy both, wondering how on earth Lebkuchen of all people managed to find and kill it. Some of them praise her for her connection to God – they might be closer to the truth than they think.
The lads hoist the wolf up over their shoulders to take it back to Kieferberg; Freya’s the one to lift Elise back, much to Elise’s protest. She’s good about seeing to the wound, too – she’s prepared with bandages and ointment, to prevent infection (though she is utterly devastated that Elise won’t be mobile for their dance tomorrow).
Wilhelm and Ludwig volunteer to skin the thing – they’ll discard the meat – and make something of it, offering its fur to Lebkuchen, if she wants it. Elise looks queasy at the very concept.
She turns it down, of course.
With the festival tomorrow, and the time of day – half the men want to drink in celebration, but thankfully Gustav talks them down. Lebkuchen wants to fall into bed, truthfully, but they’ve first got to sort out Elise’s… situation.
“You’ll stay at mine, tonight,” Lebkuchen insists, despite Elise’s irritating – and anticipated – protests. “You’re in no state to head home alone.”
“And what if I –” Elise cuts herself off, glancing around at the lads chatting around them. “You know…”
“Then I’ll hit you with my bible until you come to your senses.” Elise makes a face; Lebkuchen can tell she’s envisioning the scenario in her head. She grumbles something indistinct, before Freya comes back.
“Oh, you must tell me how you did it, Lebkuchen! And how Elise got injured,” Freya is quick to steady Elise as she falters a little; Lebkuchen quietly takes her other side.
“There’s not much to tell, really…”
“Oh, you’re just being modest!” Freya scoffs at Lebkuchen meagre attempt at downplaying the matter. “You killed a wolf, Lebkuchen! Who else could say as much, here in Kieferberg?”
Elise is sat down on a bench in the courtyard outside Wilma’s inn; she kicks out her good leg and leans forward, much as the pain allows.
“She was stunning, Freya! She lobbed her rosary at the thing to get it off me, and then fired almost immediately!” Elise glances at her; a cheeky grin on her face. Lebkuchen tightens her smile. They’ll discuss this later.
“Oh, goodness!” Freya covers her mouth in – well, Lebkuchen’s not entirely sure if the shock is genuine, or if she’s being made fun of. “Is… that not blasphemy?” Lebkuchen shrugs.
“It was the only holy item I had close within reach…” Freya nods, like she’s taking notes.
“And then what?”
“Three shots!” Elise holds up three fingers, as if to drive this point home. “One in the legs, one in it’s body, and then she got up reeeal close and shot it right in the head!”
“Oh, weren’t you scared?” Freya gasps, thrilled nonetheless, “I don’t think I could ever get so close to a wolf like you did…”
“Elise was,” Lebkuchen finds her way to take back control of this situation, prompting a grunt of complaint from Elise. “She clung to my leg like a child!”
“Hey, you—”
“Oh, I don’t blame you at all, Elise!” Freya leans down, grabbing Elise’s hands – Elise looks rather unpleased with this whole arrangement. “I would have too!”
“Uh…” Lebkuchen rather enjoys watching Elise struggle for words. Especially since she was so keen on telling Freya all the details – why miss out on the best part? “I mean, clinging is a strong word…”
Freya giggles at that; Lebkuchen can’t stop a smile from creeping onto her face either.
“Ah – but I should let you get some rest, Elise – and you too, Lebkuchen,” Freya frowns. “Are you going back to your house? You’re welcome to stay with us if it’s too much to make it there in your condition.”
“Apparently, I’m staying with Lebkuchen.” Good girl. “I suppose she’ll lift me up the stairs to her room.” Lebkuchen resists the urge to smack her – reminds herself Elise is mortally wounded, and such.
“Being kind to the sick and feeble is a virtue!” Lebkuchen smiles instead, as bright as she can. Elise glares at her out of the corner of her eye – Freya giggles again.
“You two are so silly,” she says, taking a few steps backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? We will have that dance, Elise!” She takes off after that – leaves to find Gustav, presumably. It could only be the wee hours of Saturday at this point; if they stay up much later, they’ll sleep through half the festival.
“Shall we go, then?” Lebkuchen stands up, dusts off her habit, and goes to offer Elise a hand. “I imagine you’re as tired as I am.”
Elise grimaces. “I’m not sure I can compete with you in that regard…”
She takes the hand anyway; Lebkuchen supports her left side so Elise can hobble in peace. It would have been better to have Freya or one of the lads carry her, but Lebkuchen has taken enough from her this evening – her secret, the truth, a kiss – that she’d feel a little cruel taking her dignity too.
The walk isn’t far, not from town, but the pace at which they walk is evidence enough that Lebkuchen’s immediately, ill-conceived plans of leaving tomorrow are rather unfounded. Perhaps the adrenaline in her body is starting to settle – in seeps thoughts and worries of ‘what if’, of how they might actually pull this off, if Lebkuchen can really bring herself to break from her routines, to tell Father Hans, and everyone else, that she –
“What on earth are you thinking about?” Elise’s voice rips her back out of her head. Her face is concern, head tilted downwards, shining ambers looking Lebkuchen up and down.
“Me?” She’s a little too off-guard to respond with proper deflection. Not that she should really be doing that anymore. “I’m not…” She trails off, unsure what exactly she might not be.
“You look like you’re worried about something,” Elise frowns, creasing her brow. “My leg will heal just fine, you know. Freya’s ointment is some sort of magic.”
Lebkuchen isn’t at all comfortable with the idea that Elise can prod at her the moment she drops her guard – it’s one of her least favourite things about her (and possibly the reason Elise has her heart, too). She hates that feeling of vulnerability that comes with the moment of being caught; deer staring down the barrel of her gun. She’s much rather be the one holding it than the poor thing staring it in the eyes.
It’s… frustrating.
The concept of being honest is something Lebkuchen is sparing familiar with – honesty is rarely the best policy, especially in Kieferberg, but something about the hour, the air, and the girl leaning on her shoulder – something about it all drags it out of her.
“…we can’t go right away, can we?” Lebkuchen says, despite herself.
“You could carry me,” Elise says, a little too cheerily; though her face straightens up when she doesn’t get the laugh she’s hoping for – just a grimace. “Well… it’d be difficult to leave right away, true. I thought you might like to enjoy being Kieferberg’s darling, since you,” Lebkuchen pays attention to the way her voice softens, “shot the big bad wolf, and all.”
She can’t help but smile at that comment. Her voice sounds so silky in the night, sometimes – when she’s not all worked up about things – though truthfully, Lebkuchen is thinking she’d rather not receive any more attention than she already does. If the people of Kieferberg see fit to stop creating problems of thin air, she’s all the more for it.
“I suppose I was hoping to use this burst of reckless abandon to get us out of here,” Lebkuchen comments, finally, “Before my nerve ran out.”
“Getting cold feet already?” Elise’s face is mysterious. Lebkuchen shakes her head.
“It’s not that. More, the reality of leaving is a little more complicated than it felt in the woods, with you.”
“We can go back into the woods if you really want.”
“I don’t, thank you.”
She’s incorrigible. Lebkuchen has no idea what to make of this mood of hers – all giggles, making jokes when Lebkuchen is half-heartedly trying to have a somewhat serious conversation! The nerve of that girl –
“Oh, there you two are!” Granny Gretel interrupts her train of thought – they’re already at the bakery? – and greets the two of them with a warm hug. “I was so worried – I heard all about it from Mathilde. Well done, and – oh, Elise, dearie, are you quite alright?”
“I’m just fine, thank you, Mrs. Gretel,” It’s very convincing, given Elise is at this stage entirely dependent on Lebkuchen’s shoulder for balance.
“I’ll take her up to my room, Granny – it’s too far for her to go home tonight.”
“Of course, of course! Don’t let me keep you – you must be exhausted.”
Her granny ushers them upstairs – it’s a bit of a mission getting Elise up there, but some careful hopping and leveraging of her shoulder later, they’re up there. Elise looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing up.
Lebkuchen nudges her towards the bed – Elise protests some more, but she’s not in any condition to do anything about it. She throws off her habit – demands Elise strip, lends her some nightclothes – and clambers in beside her.
Truthfully, she expected to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but this bed of hers is a lot smaller than she remembers it being. They’ve barely enough room to lie down without touching; Elise is pressed against the wall and Lebkuchen is almost dangling off the edge.
Perhaps she should be nervous, about being this close – as if just last night, this sort of thing wasn’t the realm of fever dreams (ha), but her mind keeps turning back towards their future – how it might pan out, what they need to do.
There’s the threat of getting caught, too – if Elise wolfs out before her leg heals, before they manage to make their escape, what then? If word gets out that there’s a were-wolf on the loose, no village they ever find would be safe. What could they possibly do then?
The more she rolls it around in her head, the more risky it seems. Maybe they should leave – maybe they need to go, right now, in the middle of the night, before anyone can stop them. Primeldorf might question why they’re travelling with such an injury, but – no, no, that wouldn’t work. Elise’s leg is clearly a bite wound – working up Primeldorf into a frenzy because of a supposed wolf might be worse than Kieferberg.
“I was really scared, you know,” Elise says, suddenly. Maybe she’s sensed how hard Lebkuchen’s mind is working right now, to solve things – or maybe she’s just being her inconsiderate self. “I had a dream – at least, I think it was a dream – where all of Kieferberg turned into wolves. I ran to you for help, but – you shot me.”
It sinks in, right deep into Lebkuchen’s chest, as they’re lying there, as she hears that – just how terrified Elise must have been. Surrounded by gunsmoke, knowing every man and woman in all of Kieferberg is out there, hunting her down like the animal they think she is, with nowhere to go, no salvation to face. Did she hope she’d be absolved of whatever sin she’d supposedly committed by taking Lebkuchen’s bullet with her ears back and head held steady?
No wonder she’s been so skittish, ever since – it’s not that she’s been taking things lightly, rather – she’s trying to put away the terror in her chest. Making stupid jokes, silly comments – all to hide how ragged her breathing is, how big her eyes are.
“Why didn’t you run?” It would have been the smartest thing to do. If Elise had anyway shred of self-preservation, she should have run. Lebkuchen’s not that good a shot – nor is anyone in Kieferberg, really – and with her speed and agility as a wolf, she could’ve avoided being hit at all.
“Well,” Elise shuffles in place, hunches in on herself a little more, “I guess I thought that I was okay with either outcome, so long as it was by your hand. I… trusted you to make the right decision.”
Lebkuchen knees Elise as hard as she can, directly into the back. “Ow! What was that for?”
“What if I’d not realised?” she hisses, grappling onto Elise with both her arms and her legs. Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. “What if I’d really pulled the trigger? How do you think I would’ve if I’d done that and opened my eyes to see your body?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Elise’s shoulders droop, her voice sounds all small again. Lebkuchen realises that – once again – she’s putting her own feelings ahead of the reality of the situation.
“Look at me,” she says, hiding the sigh in her voice as best she can. Elise rolls over, obediently – takes half the blanket with her, and the two of them shiver as a rush of cold air hits them. Her face is sheepish. “Don’t you ever insinuate I could hurt you ever again.”
“You just did…” Lebkuchen glares at her, though she realises kneeing Elise again won’t exactly help her case. She’s just so –
Lebkuchen could look at her face forever, pouting in the faint slice of moonlight slipping in from between her curtains; the golden glow of her eyes, ever-so-faintly visible in the darkness. She can feel the weight of the trust Elise has in her heavy on her shoulders – and the indistinct euphoria that comes with it, too.
They’ve kept secrets before, but not like this – not so weighty, not so dire. The truths they’ve kept close to their chests – whispered between each other on rainy days in between responsibilities – have always been about the world around them, how they’ve felt about it; Elise’s pranks on Mrs Wilma, Lebkuchen’s hatred for Father Hans, who really took Linda’s missing pie.
It’s unfair, Lebkuchen thinks, that she should be the only one bearing the brunt of that trust – the delight and fear and terror and joy that comes with it. It should be obvious – really, it should be – but if she’s to keep Elise’s secret, she ought to confess to it – one truth learned, one truth given.
So she does.
“I love you, Elise.”
She says it a bit too fast – barely raises her eyes enough to meet the girl she’s two inches away from, and feels the drop in her stomach, the barrel of the gun pressed to her skin, but she breathes – she breathes, and raises her head.
Elise is smiling. Bigger than she ever has before – enough to almost put Lebkuchen’s nerves to shame. What was she supposed to be worried about? She’s already kissed her – already held her close under the moonlight, already told her it doesn’t matter her affliction. Even still, it makes her toes curl.
They can’t run from exhaustion forever, though – with her last burst of energy, Lebkuchen can feel her eyelids drooping. She rolls over – drags the blanket with her, a little.
“We should sleep,” she says, without giving Elise an opportunity to reply. She doesn’t need it – she doesn’t need to Elise say those words. Not yet, not until they’re far away from Kieferberg.
She doesn’t need it, because Elise presses her forehead to Lebkuchen’s spine, and she thinks about that until sleep comes and takes her.
samstag – morning
The festival is, by all accounts, a great success.
The kids stop by to play, the town brushes past them to offer token half-apologies, and Freya and Elise have their dance.
Lebkuchen isn’t exactly fond of the attention that comes with being the talk of the town, but if there’s any small consolation to come from the fact, it’s that everyone’s attention is thoroughly diverted from Elise – and her possible lycanthropic affliction.
The town is sweeter to her almost overnight – any hint of scorn or suspicion is replaced by mild concern, or at worst some level of neutral apathy. Lisbeth makes a point to come and see Elise as soon as she can – to apologise, and to offer a meal, given Elise’s current state.
Wilhelm is kind enough to fashion her a pair of crutches, too, and between herself and Freya’s capabilities, they’ve wrapped up Elise’s leg alright – (she resolves to bridal-carry her in some sort of bizarre waltz anyway). Even Wilma has the decency to offer Elise a meal on the house.
If Lebkuchen didn’t know better, she’d say that Kieferberg’s attitude is comforting – that perhaps it might be okay if they stayed here. Elise seems to be loving her life – with her injury as a badge of honour, she’s finally getting the respect she’s always wanted from the townsfolk.
And yet – she can still catch that uncertainty, when she’s not in view of the others; that pervasive worry that sits leaden in her belly. The longer they wait, the more they risk – the more opportunity for something to go wrong, for someone to find out.
“Can I get you another drink, Elise?” Freya takes it upon herself to play waitress for her; insisting upon it even after Elise has spent the whole evening protesting.
“You know, you really don’t have to—”
“Eliiise!”
“…if you don’t mind, then I suppose I could use a refill…”
As she darts away, Elise’s hand finds Lebkuchen’s; she squeezes it tight.
??? – dawn
They opt to leave at dawn, before anyone can stop them. They make sure to say all their goodbyes the evening before – when Elise is hale and hearty and most critically, not a wolf. They’ve still not figured out what specifically triggers her transformation – it’d be just their luck to say they’re leaving on Friday at dawn, only for Lebkuchen to suddenly have to explain how Elise came down with a ‘fever’ in summer.
“Are you packed? Do you have everything?” Lebkuchen fusses over every aspect of their departure – they can’t risk running back, tails between their legs.
“I told you, I packed everything last night!” Elise grumps at her – she’s never willingly been a morning person (and admittedly, neither has Lebkuchen) – so the two of them are probably more tetchy than they need to be.
It’s just – this is it.
They walk down past the grapevine path – Elise seems to want to take her time to soak in the view, the smell of it all, so Lebkuchen matches her pace. The old windmill barely moves in the breeze, the trees are almost dropping their leaves – occasional, they crunch one beneath their feet. It’s not quite autumn yet, but it will be soon.
The river is calm today – barely so much as babbles against the rocks as they hop their way across, crushing daises beneath their feet.
Then they reach the crossroads – and stare off into the distance.
“Wait!”
Lebkuchen and Elise turn on their heels, only to be thrust backwards by two strong arms, gripping them tightly.
“I’ll miss you,” Freya says, burying her face into their shoulders, eyes wet. “I really will.”
Guilt pits in her stomach – it feels wrong, leaving Freya behind like this – but they have to go.
“We’ll miss you too, Freya,” Elise rubs the back of Freya’s head, gently. “Though, we were trying to leave without causing a stir…”
“I’m sorry,” Freya releases them, though she gases at the two of them like they’re everything to her. “I just wanted to say goodbye one last time.”
“It’s not like it’s forever, Freya!” Elise takes her hands; Lebkuchen tries to smile as convincingly as she can. “We promised yesterday that we’d write.”
“I know,” Freya wipes her eyes, and takes a single step back. “I know. Be safe, okay?”
“We will,” Lebkuchen folds her arms – rests her hands over the embroidery Freya’s done to her dress. “Take care of yourself, alright, Freya?”
Leaving is hard.
It’s harder still to walk away, knowing Freya is right behind them – that it would be so easy to stay. Freya would love to have them; the townsfolk will miss their errand girl, despite themselves. Who knows how they’ll manage themselves without Lebkuchen to spill all of their troubles unto?
They’ve both wanted this for so long now – but that doesn’t make it any easier to walk away. Kieferberg is all they’ve ever known, it’s home.
Elise doesn’t seem nearly as bothered, though – looks at Lebkuchen with curiosity.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks, rather chipper for so early in the morning.
“I suppose I’m just worried about what might become of us, now that we’ve left…”
“I’m not!” Elise laughs. “After all, you’re here with me.”
Ah.
It’s that simple, hm?
Lebkuchen slips her hand into Elise’s. Off they go.