Tony ducked as a magpie swooped gracelessly within inches of his head, proclaiming its territory with an aggressive, rattling ‘Ack-ack-ack-ack!’

“Dumb bird.” He turned to where Wendell sat reading under a canvas canopy; the trestle table by his side was full of diplomatic dispatches from the provinces. Wendell gave no sign he’d even heard Tony speak, frowning over the document in his hand.

“I said ‘dumb bird,’” Tony repeated carefully, though he knew he’d get no more response from the young king than he had the first time. The magpie landed deliberately on the beautifully flat lawn that swept out below them to a formal rose garden and fountain, strutting and ruffling its black and white plumage. He sighed. God, I’m bored, he thought. It’s a sad day when the most exciting thing happening in my life is a bird nearly landing on my head. He slumped deeper in his chair, squinting against the afternoon sun - watching the bird stalk was marginally more interesting than watching Wendell read. The bird fixed him with an opaque, agate stare.

Wendell snorted and let the document roll itself up with a decisive snap. Tony jumped in his chair.

“What? What?”

The king snorted again. “Rubbish, Anthony. Stuff and nonsense. Arrant stupidity. I seem to have complete idiots for officers out on the mountain borders and I think they’ve been drinking steadily since my coronation. Fools. Nincompoops...”

“All right, all right, I’m getting the ‘stupid’ part. I’m just not getting the ‘why’ part.” Tony yawned. The sun was making him sleepy.

Wendell leaned across and slapped Tony’s arm with a rolled up document.

“Ow! What the..?”

“I do wish you’d pay attention, Anthony,” Wendell said sharply. “I’m trying to educate you in the ways of the Fourth Kingdom and it would be so much easier if you were awake.”

Tony rubbed his smarting arm, pouting as he contemplated the injustice of Wendell’s remark. “Keep your crown on,” he grumbled.

Wendell continued as if Tony hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ve just read the monthly report from my garrison captain at the Kissingtown border and it’s completely incoherent! I’ll have to have him replaced at once. Drivelling on about black dust falling from the sky and...”

“Hey, really? Let me see.” Tony reached out for the scroll, interested for the first time all day. As he did, he heard again the machine-gun ‘ack-ack-ack’ and the magpie took off with a speed he would have sworn it could never achieve and sped like an arrow towards them both. They yelled and ducked and when they looked up they could see it flapping ponderously into the trees at the edge of the garden, the scroll dangling by the red ribbon from its black beak.

“Dumb bird!” Tony yelled shaking his fist at it. “I guess it was attracted to the gold seal at the end of the ribbon,” he went on, turning back to Wendell, but the expression on the young king’s face struck him like a blow. Wendell looked sick and white with fear. “Wendell! What?! It was just a bird.”

Wendell wiped his face with a shaking hand and gave Tony a look that was equal parts scorn and impatience. Tony wasn’t sure how Wendell had managed to convey that same look when he had been a dog, but he had and Tony knew it meant he had said something stupid. It always ticked him off.

“Anthony, I don’t know how it is in your kingdom, but here magpies are very rare. And when they appear it is prophecy.”

Tony snorted derisively, “Oh yeah? Well that one went by too fast to be Gypsy Rose Lee.”

“You’re not listening to me again Anthony. They don’t speak prophecy.” Wendell got up and began pacing up and down worriedly. “They are prophecy. But the problem is ... I don’t know what the problem will be.”

Tony stared at Wendell. The king was completely serious.

“You’re getting your crown in a twist because you saw a magpie? Come on Wendell, that’s a little whacko even for this place.”

Wendell didn’t pause in his tight pacing.

“Even you, Anthony, must have heard of ‘one for sorrow...’”

Tony settled himself comfortably back in his chair and stretched out his long legs.

“Uh-huh. But you can’t tell me one of those two-tone noise machines has to appear every time I stub my toe. I’m not buying it, Wendell.”

“It’s not sorrow when you stub your toe, Anthony, that’s a mild inconvenience, a mere bruise. What the magpie portends is...” he waved his arm, “Sorrow, something terrible.”

“Well, fat lot of good. I could do that.” Tony waved his fingers in front of his face and put on a singsong voice. “Ooooooohhh, Wendell, sorrow is coming, on its fastest horse, with a big bag of unhappiness to spread around.” He chuckled at his joke. Wendell opened his mouth, frowning to say something cutting but a liveried page ran up to them from the open doors of the salon behind them.

“Your Majesty,” he panted, “a messenger has just arrived from Kissingtown.”

“Is this urgent?” Wendell snapped. “I’m rather busy.”

“He says so,” the page replied. “He said he would not leave the palace till he saw you.”

Wendell sighed. “Oh, show him in.”

The page nodded and hurried back through the salon doors. He reappeared a moment later, trailing a tired-looking man dressed in riding gear, carrying his saddle bags slung over one shoulder. The man sank to one knee in front of Wendell more as if he could no longer stand than as a mark of respect for his king. He dumped the contents of his saddlebags out on the grass, narrowly missing Wendell’s pristine white trousers with the cloud of heavy black dust that rose into the air, along with some shards of glass.

“What in the fairying forest...”

“Your Majesty” - the man’s voice was hoarse - “I am Brock. I was a vintner, in Kissingtown. But I was chosen to bring you this message because I have the fastest horse in the city.”

Tony bit back the response what message, a bag full of soot? because he was a little freaked. But Wendell asked softly, “What message?”

Brock swayed, steadied himself and looked up at Wendell. His eyes were red and bleary. “Your Majesty, Kissingtown has been razed to ashes. By a dragon.”

Virginia snuggled closer in the crook of her husband’s arm and rested one hand on her swelling belly. She was six months pregnant now and uncomfortable most of the time. The park bench they were sitting on was at just the wrong angle for her back. Wolf’s arm tightened about her and his possessiveness made her grin.

It was an icy November afternoon and the light was fading fast; soon Virginia would have to go to work. She’d done some fast-talking to get her old job back and Wolf had found a temporary job as a short order cook. They didn’t get to spend as much time together as she liked.

She tried not to worry about what was going to happen when the baby was born and she had to stop working. She could hardly trust her grandmother to babysit, and her father was ... well ... away. Money was tight and bound to get tighter. They’d had to move out of the apartment on the park. Although the Murrays were not sure exactly what had happened, they weren’t prepared to have Virginia living in the building any more. They had found a couple of tiny cramped rooms on a street that always smelled of other people’s laundry. She sighed. Yes, her love for her husband, and his for her, never wavered. “But happy ever after didn’t last as long as we’d hoped,” she murmured.

“What did you say, Virginia?”

Wolf’s voice vibrated through his chest. She lifted her head and looked up at him. Above the collar of his grey coat his nose was red and his dark hair blown back by the cold wind, but he looked exhilarated and his eyes were a clear bright hazel. As always, her heart contracted with surprise at how handsome he really was, as if she saw him for the first time, every time.

She asked tentatively, “Wolf, do you ever wonder how we’re going to manage?”

“What? No!” He looked down at her and away to the trees and added with quiet emphasis, “Virginia, please don’t worry, I’ve told you I’ll look after you and our cub and I will.”

He sounded determined but she thought she could detect the tightness around his jaw that meant worry and the light in his eyes had dimmed. She hated to upset him, so she bit back the other words that rose in her throat and only hugged him tighter, but the quiet mood was thoroughly spoiled.

Damn, she thought. Now I’ve ruined the little time we get to spend together.

She felt him sigh.

“Time to go to work, my dreamy girl.”

He helped her stand. Wolf always walked her to work and home again.

“Now there, Virginia see that? I hid behind that tree when I first came here.”

She rolled her eyes fondly at him. “You tell me that every day.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, “Well, it’s a good tree,” he said defensively as they as they sauntered on over the frosty ground ”and ... OH CRIPES!” He stopped so suddenly Virginia stumbled and went to her hands and knees on the icy path. Wolf practically hauled her up, whining nervously and apologetically, “Oh my succulent mate, are you all right?”

Calmly, she inspected the small graze on her palm. “Uh-huh,” she said, “Why did you stop like that?”

“Absolutely no reason.” He held her up firmly, but she could feel the tension in him like electricity singing in overhead wires, and he glanced furtively around. Then he bundled her in his arms with the least care he ‘d ever shown her and hustled her swiftly in the opposite direction.

“Wolf,” she protested, “I can’t get to work this way.”

“We’ll go another way,” he said firmly, walking as fast as he could make her go.

“But I’ll be late! They’ll sack me and we need the money...”

He stopped and held her at arms length, and said earnestly, “Trust me Virginia, we have to go another way.”

A flash of black and white dived past her head and a magpie landed almost under her feet.

“CRIPES! Virginia, don’t look!”

Before she had time to draw breath he grabbed her and pulled her face into his coat.

“Wolf,” she said incoherently through a mouthful his shirt, “Have you gone crazy? The full moon isn’t for another two weeks.”

“Oh my goodness,” she heard him muttering, then she heard him growl and snap his teeth and yell “Go away!” Then he began to hurry her BACK the way they’d come, their steps crunching on the icy path. She dug in her heels and yanked her head out of his coat in a fit of temper and yelled, “Wolf!”

He winced, the crease between his brows deepening as his eyes flicked from her to whatever it was he didn’t want her to see.

“But Virginia...”

She was about to yell at him again, but there was genuine fear in his voice. “...seeing a single magpie is an bad omen - we could be cursed and you so ... pregnant and all.”

She stared. “Cursed?”

“Yeah.” He scratched at his head, a sure sign he was distressed. “Dontcha know one magpie means sorrow?”

“Well, sure!” she laughed. “But that’s just a rhyme...” He shook his head sadly. “...isn’t it?”

Wolf tugged at her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Not knowing quite how she’d allowed herself to be persuaded, Virginia followed him, but every time they tried to get out of the park, the magpie dived underfoot or swooped at their eyes, making its angry rattling cry. She began to get scared. Once, it landed on Wolf’s shoulder, and glared at him. Virginia could have sworn it was amused when Wolf clapped his hands over his eyes, and yelped, “Go away!”

It drove them slowly and inexorably to the mirror portal.

“I won’t go through,” Wolf snarled. “I won’t be bullied by a bundle of feathers.” The magpie landed on his head and craned its neck to look down at him. “Oh Virginia, make it stop!”

Virginia was too tired to argue any more. She waved her scarf at the magpie and it flapped lazily off, landing with confident hop less than a pace away. It was getting dark now; the trees loomed like giant trolls and the temperature had dropped even further. Her breath was prickly as ice crystals in her throat and puffed in glittering clouds when she spoke.

“Wolf, I can’t keep this up. My back is sore and I’m exhausted. If it wants us to go through the mirror then let’s go visit my dad and Wendell. It’s too late to pretend we haven’t seen it now. We’re probably cursed already.”

His shoulders were tense and high and she could tell he wanted to attack it. Then he sighed. “You’re right, we may as well meet our doom. But, huff puff, it’s not fair!”

Wolf carefully took her hand and as they stepped though the portal, Virginia thought she heard a triumphant ‘ack-ack-ack!’ as Central Park disappeared.

Noise and lights flashed past them ... they tumbled out the other side.

To her surprise, Wendell and her father were waiting at the other end. She caught a confused glimpse of a map covered in symbols and lines spread out on a huge table and held down with books. Then Wendell stepped up and bowed over her hand in courtly fashion which made Wolf snarl possessively. Tony hugged her as if she were made of glass.

“Were you expecting us?” she asked as she sank gratefully into the plush red velvet chair Wolf immediately commandeered for her.

“Unfortunately, yes,” the king replied, looking sidelong at Tony. She caught the look.

“What?” she said suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Wolf had spotted it too and moved instinctively closer to his mate. “Yeah, what aren’t you telling us Wendy?” Wolf’s eyebrows met in an angry ‘v‘.

Wendell sighed and all the energy seemed to go out of him. He slumped into another chair and ran his hands tiredly through his curls. Now she could think of something besides her sore back and feet, Virginia could see how drawn Wendell’s face was.

“My friends, I’m afraid disaster has struck the Fourth Kingdom. Again. We’re doomed.”

“You too?” Wolf muttered.

“A dragon has destroyed Kissingtown. No one knows why or where it will strike next. My subjects are rightly terrified and the other kingdoms won’t send help in case it attacks them next.”

“A dragon!” Wolf exclaimed. “But they died out! If they ever even really existed.” He paced energetically up and down the room.

Virginia raised a brow. “You’re pretty unique yourself, Honey, and no one argues you don’t exist.”

He stopped mid-pace and smiled shyly. “You think I’m unique, Virginia?”

They exchanged soppy smiles.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Tony burst out, “getting all mushy won’t help at all now. Wendell and Wolf have to go to Kissingtown and Virginia and I have to go to the Deadly Swamp! Get used to being apart! And...” Virginia and Wolf stared in astonishment as Tony stopped his mouth with both hands, making muffled noises behind his fingers, his eyes bulging.

“What?!” Virginia cried “Dad, what’s wrong?”

Wendell rolled his eyes and raked his hands through his curls again. His hair was so dishevelled it looked as though he’d been doing it for quite some time.

“Ah. Yes,” he said wearily. “Errm. Virginia. Your father has become an oracle. He’s been most frighteningly accurate, so I’m afraid anything he ... ah ... portends,” Wendell glanced furtively at Tony who freed one hand to shake a fist at the king, “goes. I’m sorry Virginia, Wolf; but if Tony says you must travel separately, then you must.”

“No!” Wolf grabbed hold of Virginia’s hand. “I won’t leave my wife and cub! And Virginia can’t travel, she’s six months pregnant!”

“I’m truly sorry, Wolf, but you both must,” Wendell said.

“Yeah, do you wanna be cursed for the rest of your life, Furry? You think that gypsy hair thing was bad? Piss me off and you’ll see.” Tony shrugged and gestured furiously, to indicate he had nothing to do with the words coming indistinctly from behind his hands.

Wendell shrugged helplessly, and the hair on the back of Virginia’s neck lifted as Wolf howled his frustration.