Girl In The Red Coat

long, jet-black hair and around his head was a band with a couple of feathers attached to it. A soft drumbeat along with a chanting came from the mysterious shadow. Magnus and Constantine glanced at each other and knew that curiosity had got the better of them; they wanted to see what he was up to. They treaded carefully, trying not to disturb the stranger. When the chanting and the drumming stopped, they realised that they already had. The man looked up at them.
‘Hello. I’ve been expecting you both. Please do not look puzzled, I am a friend.’
‘How were you expecting us?’ asked Constantine.
‘You have both been chosen from the gods above to keep this town safe from unknown darkened forces that invade upon you all. I’ve come to help you both unravel your gifts and set free your spirit guide.’
‘Spirit guide? What are you talking about, you old fool?’ snapped a startled Magnus.
‘Now, now, my friend. No need for that tone in your voice. All will make sense in due course. As I said, I am here to help you both. For starters, the lovely girl in the red cloak you follow round, she needs your protection.’
‘Florence, you mean? Why? What is wrong with her?’ demanded Constantine.
‘She is not an ordinary girl. Her mother and grandmother are spellcasters. That is, in your language, a witch – but of the good kind. The spellcasters are chosen selectively by mother nature, a girl does not know she is chosen until she reaches the change that makes her a woman. And yourselves, you are both going through a change that will develop your own gifts.’
They glanced at each other, confused, but very intrigued to know more. Who were these spellcasters and what gifts did they have within themselves? Constantine looked down at his shoes as he started to feel a twinge from his left big toe which then shot through to his ankle, moving rapidly to the other foot and then all the way up to his groan. He did not understand what was happening but at the same time Magnus felt the same pain. The boys were indeed going through some kind of change. As their eyes turned black, they realised that this was happening to them both. The man disappeared. No trace of him was left behind, as if he had vanished into thin air.
The boys, alarmed by their encounter, rushed off to their homes and went to bed early without supper. Constantine tried to forget all about it, thinking instead about Florence, about how beautiful she was. This was his first ever crush on a girl of his age. But was she really what the stranger had said she was? One of those spellcasters? Were he and Magnus truly chosen as her protectors? All of these thoughts were playing through his mind as he drifted off to sleep.
He dreamt of a white wolf and a young girl who very much looked like Florence. They were standing on the edge of a forest covered in snow, with a mountain range nearby. Florence gazed up towards the sky, wondering at how beautiful the snowflakes were that fell upon them. The white wolf changed into a human boy that looked to be like himself. Florence approached him and handed him some robes to cover up. They gazed at each other.
Constantine knew that he was in a dream, but he did not know that at that moment, Florence and Magnus were experiencing the same dream.
He held his hand to her, which she gladly took, and they walked the few steps in the snow to the forest. But in the shadows of the opening of the trees, a silhouette of another wolf lurked nearby. Florence and Constantine had not noticed this other wolf; they were enjoying each other’s company too much to even notice. This wolf had black fur and huge white teeth. It crept out of the shadows and charged towards them. They searched for something to throw at the creature. It charged at Constantine and dragged the young man out of the way. Florence, though full of fear, gazed directly at the black wolf. It slowly approached her. She dropped to her knees and she knew who the black wolf was and what he wanted to take from her. Too scared to fight back, Florence slowly untied her cloak, then her robe, warm, salty tears falling over her cheeks. The black wolf changed shape into a human. He looked very much like Magnus. Bending down, he kissed her. Her body froze, then went limp as though she didn’t have the strength inside her to fight him off.
Magnus placed her to the snowy ground. She felt the cold, wet earth beneath her naked back. Removing the rest of her clothes, he gently kissed her neck, moving his mouth towards her chest. Suddenly, the white wolf appeared and charged at Magnus. Teeth clenched, it flew on top of him and took a bite out of his right arm. Magnus let out a high-pitched howl, a noise so unbearable, it threw back the white wolf. The blood from his arm dripped rapidly to the ground and he wrapped some cloth over the wound to try and stop the bleeding.
The white wolf switched back to Constantine as he ran to Florence. Something made him want to kiss her and, as he met her blue lips, they turned back to rose red and she was able to move again. Constantine wrapped her in her robes to warm her as Magnus stalked over to them.
‘She is mine, you can’t have her,’ yelled Magnus.
‘If you want her you will have to come through me, I will not let you harm her! We are supposed to protect her.’
‘That is why I must have her; can you not sense her pure blood pumping away? Does it not make you hungry for her innocence?’
‘She