Natasha Luepke - Buttercup, Called Coin

I never thought this would be easy. I was never able to deceive myself into thinking that, anyway; farmers do not like wolves, even if those wolves speak with human voices.

We live forever or die of horrible curses, remember that. And your father and I...we already had the horrible curse.

But that's misleading. I am at one with my dual state, though I do not know if I like what it has done to you. Everything is so much more beautiful since the Change - the moon is brighter, the birdcalls are richer... It is not better than being human, never think that, but it is not worse.

Do not blame yourselves for Morning-Glory's hatred.

But my words are getting twisted. I fear the beginning, for I know the end.

Wolf's birth was met with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Mainly fear. A beautiful, perfect child, to be sure, but that tail! My father suggested cutting it off. My mother offered to have the boy live with them. Tail intact.
But he was my baby, he would stay with me.
When Clover was born, the townspeople were a little more accepting. Wolf hadn't caused any major trouble, nothing worse than any other child. Of course, we kept him hidden in the forest. Clover was as perfect as her big brother.

Morning-Glory was silent about Wolf's arrival. She still claimed love for Lord Corvis, and was still angling for a spot in the family. So she was silent about Wolf; he could be a potential step-grandchild.

Still not a wife at Clover's birth, she was more vocal about the pack of wolves being raised on the edge of the forest. No one else minded anymore, but Morning-Glory planted fear: lost livestock, lost loves.

We were not invited to her wedding. You might think that that was her doing, but all sources tell us your grandfather did not want us there. He could never reconcile the wolf with the son.

When Deor was born; that was when the wolves came. I remember...

A bright Sunday morning. Your father and I were asleep; Wolf and Clover were bouncing off the walls. It was early yet. Deor, as fine as his siblings, was colicky, and so neither Wolfgang nor I got a lot of sleep. Wolf and Clover seemed to thrive without sleep.
There was a light thudding at the door, like a trapped bird trying to escape through a closed window. I pulled the blankets over my head and tried to ignore. Then, to add to the thudding, came the rushing, "Mama! Mama! Mamamamamama!" I opened one eye and looked at my children.
"What?"
Wolf smiled. "There's a knocking at the door."
I groaned. Wolfgang stirred beside me and we went to answer it.

A pile of rags stood at my door. The rags were tattered and clean, ragged and just mismatched bits of cloth. The fabric spread in a cone, giving a bird-like appearance; this poor creature had wings. The top of the cone lifted and two dark eyes burned out. The mass began to shiver. Wolfgang placed a hand on my shoulder. A movement at the bottom of my sight line alerted me to a wolf. It was white, and hid in the rags.
"No one would open their doors!" a voice beneath the eyes said. It was high, feminine; it belonged to just a girl. She was hysterical.
"Come in, please," I said, reaching out. I was afraid, a little, of sticking my hand into that mess, but another hand found it. Bones and taunt skin, but human.
We sat her and the wolf at our kitchen table. I sat beside her, Wolf and Clover flanking me on either side. Wolfgang escaped to the far side of the room, to find something for the poor girl's nerves. The white wolf sat at her feet.
"At...at the manor house, the lady, she set the hunters upon us!"
"How did you find us here?" I asked.
She shook her head. "A woman at the inn told us to come here."
Wolfgang set a cup before her. "Drink. Calm down." He pulled up a chair on the other side. "Now, who are you?"
"Ooohhh..." she breathed. "I am sorry. My name is Desdemona. This is Winter." She gestured to the wolf. She then stood and removed an organized bundle from her back. These rags contained a child. "This is Cora. Our daughter. We are from the south."

I do not judge. I could tell that baby was a half-wolf, as much as you are. This girl and this wolf... Well, the child was as beautiful as you.

"How did you end up here?" I asked.
"We were driven. Hounded like animals. And I want a place for my daughter." She pushed back her head clothes; her face was a mask of bone, her hair threaded with leaves. "Can you help us?"
I looked at Wolfgang. He slowly nodded. "Yes," I said, "yes, we'll help. My name is..."

That is how Desdemona, Winter, and Cora joined our family.

The candle is guttering. What an ugly term. It is flickering. But as it fades, I am reminded... Well, never mind. Even with a horrible curse, you can live for a long time.

As you grew older, Morning-Glory became more hostile. She barely tolerated us, whom she had known in human form, but now that we hid a wolf in our loft, she met us with hatred.
I never told you, but she told me once she wanted a second chance. She was in love and wanted to enjoy it. I already wore my wolf's head then. I believed her. I needed to, or I would not have been able to survive. She was afraid. Afraid that one day, we would find a cure, and Wolfgang would claim his inheritance.

But there had never been an animal that could pose a threat to Morning-Glory.

But we did not tell you children. We watched you chase butterflies in the garden, we watched you hunt rabbits just beyond our house. Winter taught you how to behave like real wolves, and we three humans saw to your humanity.

You were so little. Do you remember? Desdemona, Winter, and Cora spent three years in out loft. We told them stories, the ones your father and I would teach you to write with.
We never asked Desdemona how she came to love a wolf. But one night, a dark, snowy one, when you children were underfoot and complained, she sat us down by the hearth and told us.

Far to the south, Desdemona lived in a prosperous town. She was neither rich nor poor, but she was beautiful, and many young men wanted to marry her. She refused all of their advances. Angry, they pooled their resources, and asked the local witch to curse her. She was to fall in love with the first thing she saw: Winter, the white wolf.
"And," she said, a little sadly, "wolves mate for life."
You children just stared.
"They thought it was in good fun, at first," she continued. "But when Cora was born, they decided it was sick. And so has everyone since. I could have... abandoned them, I suppose, but I love my mate and my cub. So, I am here."

Wolf was about ready to start school when Desdemona asked if she might have a house of her own. Do you remember that summer? Wolf and Clover helping their father chop wood... Deor making a pest of himself. Cora helped make thatch. Winter chose the land, not too far from our house. That was a short summer. And how you complained, Wolf, about going to school.

The school was a rather new invention, set up by busybody do-gooders. We sent you because we thought you could do with friends in town.
Morning-Glory protested, though. You wolf-children would corrupt the human children.
The townspeople agreed to a trial period.

We had no problems when Deor started school.

We were proud of you children, always remember that. You could read and write and sew and cook. And hunt and follow trails and talk to the animals. You children, Wolf, Clover, Deor, you are truly special. Always remember that.

The Second Kingdom, before it was called that, was a loose confederation, you see. There was a monarch, but not much power. A girl called Riding Hood eventually got that power, made it strong.
She was shrewd, Riding Hood. She was a hero in her parts for killing all the wolves after one had attacked her. What really happened, we don't know.
But the girl was popular, and used her skills to her advantage. The monarch on the throne when you were born had no heir, you see. And there were talks of putting the Riding Hood girl on the throne.
But even with Riding Hood on the throne, there was still instability. Even with the birth of an heir. That is what Morning-Glory was after.

Morning-Glory realized, in the meantime, to befriend this girl. You remember when she came to visit, stopped before our house and stared, just stared.

Time passes so slowly; how long ago was that? Riding Hood and her daughter have since been on the throne, Morning-Glory a step behind. But where we have gotten new queens, we still have Morning-Glory, an old woman now, like your mother.

You see, there are basic fears. Humans fear wolves. And there are many here, in this country. And people like Riding Hood and Morning-Glory know how to allay these fears.

And that is why, in the middle of the night, your father and I woke you, shook you from your beds and forced you from the house, from the den. Because there are wolves here.
Do not think badly of us, what your father and I did. We had to make you leave. Because the verdict, passed down by Morning-Glory on her hunt for power, is this: Kill the wolves.

The sun is coming up.

How long ago was it that we forced you to leave? A month? It feels like an eternity. We miss you.
Winter has been missing, too. Three weeks. Desdemona does not know where he is. She has sent Cora away.

The real wolf is gone. But we are still a threat. And we are here. Some of the townspeople tried to make appeals, especially my parents. But many support Morning-Glory. They blame us for dead sheep, for ruined crops. We are wolves.

I am writing this to you, I hope you find it. Don't do anything rash. We love you, remember that. It was worth it.

It was worth it.

It is morning. And so, I leave you with this: "Thaes ofereode, thisses swa maeg."

The smell of burning was still in the air. He had grown up here, played with their children and they did this. The smell of burning was still in the air; blood was in his eyes. Wolf swallowed.
"What does that last line say, Wolf?" Clover asked.
He took a breath. He could see, in the middle of town, where the bonfire had been. He wondered, for a black second, what it must have felt like, the angry flames tearing at the clothes, at the - "Clover, you remember Mama's favorite poem, how she would recite it in her language."
"Yes."
He put on a smile, and looked at his little sister and brother. "It says, 'that went by, so can this.'"

But this shouldn't go by. It was his duty to remember. Mother and father gone. And Desdemona and Winter, too, as close as any parents. Death by the nice farmers...

"Now what?" Deor was asking.
Wolf shook his head. "Morning-Glory. I must find her."
"Wolf, no," Clover said. "You see what Mama said, don't--"
He just stared at his little sister. She quieted.

Cora found them later. She read Coin's letter, heart twisting; she, too, could smell the death in the air.
"My mother?" she whispered.
"We don't know," Clover replied.
Cora growled softly and said under her breath, "Kill the wolves."

The four stood in the dusty lane, the dying sun illuminating them in pale beams. A carriage passed, stopped. Morning-Glory emerged in ancient splendor.
"Do I know you?" she asked the children.
Wolf closed his eyes. He had grown up fearing this woman; she had ruled every aspect of his life for twenty years...
"You know who we are," he said softly, opening his eyes. "Where are our parents?"
Morning-Glory took a deep breath, arched her brow and said calmly, "Well, in any case, you look like wolves to me."
Wolf approached her, stalked her, bridged the few feet dividing them until she was cornered against the carriage. "I will find you. You had better start running."
Clover placed a hand on his arm, pulled him back, and Morning-Glory left, the carriage left.

It was all gone.

"Huff puff," Wolf whispered.