The Silver Chain

The weeks passed, and Aerin longed increasingly for the brief conversations she had with Fen every evening, as the days drew themselves out longer in spite. She felt drawn to him in a way that she herself did not care to examine. This perhaps is not very surprising in itself, for Fen was the only one in the town that treated her like the grown woman that she was, or, indeed, a true person. With everyone else, even the innkeeper, she felt as though she had ‘outsider’ branded ‘cross her forehead, for all that she had lived in the village for longer than some of the villager’s own children.
One night, Fen never came back from the forest. Aerin, confused, waited at the road for more than a half an hour. Finally, hunger forced her into the inn for supper. She ate quickly, anxious eyes locked on the door. One could almost expect that Lord Death himself would stride through it at any moment. But no one entered; Aerin and Fen were usually the last ones in at night.
She walked back to the stable, her path lit for her by a silvery full moon. In the forest, wolves howled. That was strange, she thought, for there were few wolves in this forest; far too many human predators preyed there. She shivered, and went inside.