Katherine breathed in the damp, fern-scented air of the woods. Clouds hung in the sky, grey and menacing, as the distant calls of birds filled the clearing with liquid, chattering life. No passing woodcutters were returning home to the village, no children were out picking mushrooms. Sunset would soon arrive.
She smiled. She’d done it. She was finally here.
She was going to catch the Devil.
Anna had made it sound so simple. Just go to the woods as the light is dying, she had said, long blonde hair shining in the firelight.Lay out on that long, flat rock in Parson’s Clearing. And he’ll come.
She had smiled, then, hinting wordlessly at a mystery Katherine could barely understand.He’ll stay all night, if suitably entertained.
Anna hadn’t said anything else about him, despite Katherine’s pleas. But her smile had remained, that adult, knowing smile that Katherine had seen on the faces of the other women of the village, young and old and in-between, who walked back from the woods in October long after the sun had gone down.
Katherine had snuck out to watch them returning. Mostly, they came back alone. Sometimes, confusingly, they came in pairs. She’d seen how the women’s hair was down, dishevelled, how their corsets were unlaced. How they would hurry to fasten buttons, smooth out skirts.
They were always smiling. Smiling just like Anna, when Katherine had finally pulled her aside one Sunday morning and asked her what happened in the woods at night.
You’re of age now. You’re ready.
Katherine looked down at herself, shrouded in the long red cape. ‘I am,’ she whispered. ‘I am.’
The cape excited her. It was velvet, the colour of wine and blood, and the finest thing she’d ever worn.
And underneath it, she was naked.
You have to be, the first time. Anna had been very specific. Not even a ribbon in your hair.
There were more instructions to follow. Katherine had washed herself in elderflower water, taking care to clean every inch of her body. She had taken her late mother’s beeswax balm, and massaged it into her pale skin until she glowed.
Most thrillingly of all, she had crept into her stepfather’s room as he slept. She had taken the bottle of frankincense oil, the holy oil that was only ever used in church. She had gently, nervously dipped her fingers into the bottle, marvelling at the scent, briefly touching her oil covered fingers to her forehead, neck, and stomach.
You have to anoint yourself. Or it won’t work.
It had felt wonderful. Felt like she was opening a door to something richer, deeper - and forbidden. And now, in the cold of the forest clearing, every part of her body throbbed with that same feeling.
She was excited. More excited that she had ever been.
The rock stood a little way away from her, in the centre of the clearing. Long and flat, the height of a table, and made of a dark grey stone that was nothing like the crumbling sandstone of the village houses.
It looked like an altar. Or a sacrificial stone.
And she was going to lie on it.
Her skin felt soft against the hard rock as she pulled herself on top of it. The sky was beginning to darken, with long shadows stretching out over the untouched grass.
'I’m finally here.' With a quiet, breathless laugh, she untied the ribbon at the top of her cloak. The velvet cloth slid silently from her body, exposing her naked skin to the cold autumn air.
She imagined how she would look to a passing villager, some innocent lad walking home from the woods. She was 18 now, her skin pale and smooth as glass, dark curls tumbling over her shoulders in unrestrained waves. The thinness of childhood had vanished; her thighs were shapely now, her waist and hips had taken on the sinuous, dangerous curves of womanhood. She had ripened. All of her.
No one could resist her. No simple village man, no lord, no priest. No mortal.
Not even the Devil himself.
The stone was cold as she lay down upon it, despite the layer of velvet between her bare flesh and the rock. Chills rippled over her naked skin, hardening her nipples to stiff, dark points.
Obedient girls didn’t come here.
Good girls didn’t lie naked in public, legs open, burning for some dark creature to show them things they couldn’t even guess at.
She exhaled slowly, her breath barely visible in the cold air.
Just one last step.
Slowly, nervously, her hand crept down her body, briefly lingering on the soft swell of her breasts. The dark, secret tangle of black hair at the meeting of her thighs had been forbidden territory for long. Only recently, in the privacy of her attic room when she was sure her stepfather was sleeping, had she began to explore herself. Touch herself.
She parted her smooth, aching lips, gasping as the cold air touched her sensitive flesh. Her fingers stroked at her slick, wet core, each touch sparking some deep, internal longing that she couldn’t begin to satisfy.
She closed her eyes, biting her lip at the pleasure of it.
‘Who calls me here, to this ancient place?’
Katherine’s fingers stilled. Every nerve in her body tingled with the new, sudden awareness of a presence. The voice was low, like a growl, spoken very close by. It sounded amused.
‘Tell me your name.’
‘K-Katherine Hardstark.’
‘Why do you stutter, Katherine Hardstark?
And why do you close your eyes?’
Katherine felt hot breath against her neck, laced with the scent of salt and fire.
‘Are you scared to look upon me?’
Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Yes.’
‘And yet you came here alone, defenceless, naked?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me why.’
‘Because… because I want to know what happens here.’
The voice whispered in her ear, sending thrills racing through her body.
‘Have you not been listening in church? Don’t you know that curiosity leads to sin?'
Of course she knew it. She’d heard the priest shout it from the church pulpit, his flint-grey stare unrelenting. She just didn’t care anymore.
‘I wanted to find out for myself.’
‘Oh, brazen girl… you will find out more than you could have ever bargained for. Now look upon me.’
‘I’m - I’m afraid.’
‘Good. Look upon me.’