**Chapter 4: The Wolves' Pursuit**

The darkness of the forest swallowed them whole as Harriet and Philippe rode further and further away from the only life Harriet had ever known. The trees towered above them, their branches creaking and swaying in the wind like skeletal fingers. The air was crisp and cold, and Harriet could see her breath misting in front of her. As they rode, the snow grew deeper, falling in thick, heavy flakes that obscured their path. Philippe's hooves sank into the drifts, and Harriet had to guide him carefully to avoid getting stuck. She was glad she had worn her warmest coat and gloves, but even so, the cold was beginning to seep into her bones. Despite the challenges, Harriet felt a sense of freedom she had never known before. She was finally taking control of her life, finally making a move towards the future she had always dreamed of. And as she looked at Philippe, she knew that she wasn't alone. She had her horse, and she had her own determination. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the forest, Harriet realized that they were lost. The trees seemed to close in around them, and she couldn't see any landmarks or signs of civilization. She felt a pang of fear, but she pushed it aside, trusting in Philippe to find their way. Just as she was starting to worry, Philippe suddenly stopped, his ears pricked up and his head cocked to one side. Harriet followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at something in the distance. She squinted, trying to see what it was, and then she saw them: a pack of wolves, their eyes glowing like embers in the darkness. Harriet's heart skipped a beat as the wolves began to move towards them, their paws silent on the snow. Philippe snorted and took a step back, and Harriet knew they had to get out of there, fast. She urged Philippe forward, and he began to gallop, his hooves pounding out a rhythmic beat on the snow. But the wolves were gaining on them, their howls echoing through the forest. Harriet felt a surge of fear, and she leaned forward, her face buried in Philippe's mane. "Go, Philippe, go!" she cried, her voice lost in the wind. The forest seemed to blur around them as they rode, the trees and snowdrifts merging into a chaotic mess. Harriet's heart was pounding, and she could feel Philippe's muscles tensing beneath her. She knew they were running out of time. Suddenly, Philippe let out a terrified whinny and reared up on his hind legs. Harriet was thrown off, landing with a thud in a snowdrift. She sat up, dazed and disoriented, and saw that Philippe was galloping away, the wolves hot on his heels. She called out to him, her voice hoarse with fear. "Philippe, wait! Come back!" But her horse was already too far away, and the wolves were closing in. Harriet knew she had to get out of there, and fast. She struggled to her feet, her legs trembling with fear, and began to run. The wolves broke through the thicket, their eyes fixed on Harriet. She could see their sharp teeth and claws, and she knew she was running out of time. She fell down a snowy slope, her feet flying out from under her. She landed hard, her breath knocked out of her. As she looked up, she saw a clearing in front of her. Huge gates loomed at the entrance, and Harriet knew she had to get to them. She scrambled to her feet and ran towards the gates, the wolves closing in behind her. She could hear their panting and snarling, and she knew she had to move fast. With a surge of adrenaline, Harriet reached the gates and pushed them open. She slammed them shut just as the wolves were about to reach her, their jaws snapping shut mere inches from her face. Harriet leaned against the gates, panting and trembling with fear. She looked up and saw a huge, majestic castle in front of her, its towers and turrets reaching towards the sky. She knew she had to get inside, and fast. She took a deep breath and ran towards the castle, hoping to find refuge from the wolves and the cold, dark forest.