Lair of the Lion

into these mountains. It was icy cold and wet against her face, hanging on her eyelashes and turning men and mounts into strange, pale creatures.
    "What is your name?" Isabella needed to hear a voice. The silence was eating away at her courage. Something paced silently alongside them with every step the horses took. She thought she caught glimpses every now and then of movement, but she couldn't make out what it might be. The men had closed ranks, riding in tight formation.
    "I am Rolando Bartolmei." He waved at the second man riding close by. "That is Sergio Drannacia. We've been with Don DeMarco all our lives. We were boys together, childhood friends. He is a good man, signorina." He glanced at her as if trying to make a point.
    Isabella sighed. "I am sure he is, signore. "
    "Must you leave so quickly? The storm will pass soon enough. I can assure you, our valley is quite beautiful if you would but give it a chance." Captain Bartolmei glanced again to the rider on his left. Sergio Drannacia was taking in every word. Clearly, neither understood why she was leaving so abruptly, and they were trying to persuade her to stay.
    "Don DeMarco ordered me from the valley, Signer Bartolmei. It is not by choice that I am leaving in such a storm." Her chin was up, her face proud.
    The captain exchanged a long look with Sergio, almost in disbelief. "You were allowed into the valley, signorina —a true miracle. I would have hoped you would be able to see more of this great land. Our people are prosperous and happy."
    That the people could be happy under the circumstances was difficult to believe. Isabella took a deep breath. "The night I arrived, I heard a terrible scream, and the lions roared.
    Someone was killed that night. What happened?" She wanted to appear calm, as if she knew more of the mystery than she actually did.
    The captain exchanged another quick look with Drannacia, who shrugged his broad shoulders. "It was an accident," the captain said. "One of the men became careless. We must remember that lions are not tame. They are wild animals and must be respected as such."
    Isabella listened to the tone of his voice. It was tight and clipped. She had learned much from her father and brother by thus listening for the small nuances in a voice. The captain did not fully believe his own explanation. He was uneasy with the beasts pacing silently, unseen, beside them, and talking of accidents did nothing to ease the tension. It stretched out endlessly until nerves were screaming.
    They rode for perhaps an hour, the storm slowing them down. Visibility was poor, and the wind began to howl and moan, filling the ghostly silence left by the ceasing of the lion's roars. Isabella pulled her cape tightly around her in an attempt to ward off the relentless cold. It seemed to invade her body and turn her blood to ice, and she shivered continually.
    Wet and miserable, her hands numb with cold despite her gloves, she was nearly thrown when her mount stopped without warning, rearing halfheartedly. Trying to calm her horse, she peered through the heavy veil of snow.
    Isabella's heart nearly stopped. She caught a glimpse of something large, covered in snow, but still showing patches of golden tan and black. Eyes glowed through the white, icy crystals, eyes full of wicked intelligence. Her breath caught in her throat, and she froze, her hands falling to her sides as the horse sidestepped and began backing up nervously.
    The captain leaned over, caught the reins of her mount, and swung both horses around.
    "The animals are guarding the pass!" he shouted. "They're not going to allow you to leave."
    There was something very sinister about the way the large beast stood on the narrow ledge at the entrance to the pass, its eyes fixed on her. Its gaze was intent, targeting her, recognizing her. It was mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time.
    "It isn't the single beast you can see that you must worry about. Lions are pack hunters.
    Where there is one, there are many. We must take you back." The captain was still leading her mount. His voice jolted Isabella out from under the spell of the predator, and she reached forward hastily to retake control of her horse. The captain needed his hands free—
    his own horse was plunging and snorting nervously.
    It was nerve-wracking to ride nearly blind through the heavily falling snow, with her mount trembling and sweating in fear and the other animals bucking and snorting, blowing out great clouds of vapor