Natasha Luepke - The Wolf Now Roams Among Fearless Lambs

The trees are larger than I remember, and there is less light. And I fear - well, I don’t fear ghosts, exactly. I don’t believe in them. They exist, I’m sure, but I’ve never had any dealings with them. When I was younger, I wished in vain to dream of my parents. If I did now, though, I wouldn’t sleep.
Some would feel comforted by a ghost. Proof that we go on after - not that anyone in the Nine Kingdoms fears that we don’t - but also proof that we can keep tabs on the ones we love, that we will always remain connected to our friends and family, that love can transcend death. I cannot think of anything more terrifying.

I keep walking. I see - no, I don’t - yes - flashes, out of the corner of my eye. It is just me, though; that is, it is only my imagination that I keep seeing myself as a child with my brothers and Cora. Well, maybe that is not who I am seeing. Every time I think I have the identity, the vision disappears. I hear, though, in the songs of the birds, I hear children’s voices. I cannot tell what they are saying; it could be songs, or old games of tag, or even multiplication tables. It is beginning to unnerve me, though.
I look up, trying to find the sky. I want nothing more than to be with my parents again. But the “to be” part is important. I wish I knew what life would have been like if they’d lived; I feel cheated. I shred a little bark with my good hand. Well. Well - I am lost.
Those flashes, those little figures I had seen out of the corner of my eye, I see them now; who they are, I cannot tell. Fairies, ghosts… They laugh and lead me forward, laughing children in a game of hide-and-seek. I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying not to lose sight of them. Maybe I’m hallucinating? It’s been hours since I’ve eaten.
But those visions are gone now.
I stop and push aside overgrown thorns. There - our old paths. I lower myself to me knees and carefully push forward, following the path. I think I can still smell my childhood here, those old smells of my family, of wolf and human, of bacon and sweat. Around me, chipmunks chatter, squirrels squeak, and birds sing. I crawl forward.
I can smell the old scorched wood.
And there it is, a fallen pile of wood. I let out a breath. The roof is now part of the floor. Nests rest on the remaining supporting beams. The eternal twilight of the forests casts shadows and illuminates cobwebs. How could they let this mark of destruction stay? All the same, I am grateful for it. But I - I am grateful, true, and as such I -howl. I can hear the birds escape their branches, small animals run for cover, there is a gasp from the town - I have performed my dirge for the dead.
There’s a larger crashing now -- have I awakened old ghosts? - but no, it is a horse, it is my horse and there -
“Clover!” cries Lir excitedly.
My legs fail, and I sit, hard.
“Are you okay?” he continues.
I gaze at the ruined house. In the shadows, I catch sight again of the children that had followed me, led me, and they dance, these wolf children. They are happy. They are not real, not anymore.
I weep.

All I can hear is the throbbing in my head. Lir is here, though, I can feel him, running his claws through my hair, patting my good shoulder with his beak. I can feel my stomach heave with the tears. I think I’m going to be sick. I think I’m done…but then, the whole process begins anew. If that guard was here, the other patrons, they’d laugh at me. Crying because she’s Wolf’s sister! Crying because she isn’t.
But it slows, it stops; I am left red-faced in a dark forest with a black crow. The moon will be up soon.
“Clover, what happened?”
“Nothing. But I’m glad to see you.” I lean back, and rest on my hands, wincing at the pain in my left hand. I lean further back on my elbows. Lir hops onto my stomach.
I am tired of the silence. “I was at the prison visiting a friend. This is where she lived.”
“Oh.”
“There’s a house straight back” I jerk my head “that’s where I grew up.”
Lir nods. It hits me again, how hungry I am. I sit up, displacing Lir, and head for my saddlebags.
I still have some bread, but some good roasted crow… Crow? Chicken, I mean. Yes. Not crow, because that black bundle of feathers is my… friend, not my dinner. No…matter…what…
“The moon is bright tonight,” Lir comments.
“Oh?” I say, tearing into a piece of bread, fangs dripping with crumbs.
“Nearly full, yeah?”
“Oh.” I look at Lir. We have so many nights to go and the moon is almost full. I dig out my blanket. “Let’s get an early start tomorrow, okay? I’ve been on the road far too long.”
“Okay, sure,” Lir replies. He settles into the leaves, so plump, so… I shake my head.
I lay down as far away from him as I can. I’m bad to think these thoughts, to want to, to, to eat my friend. So what if I’m a wolf? I’m a human, too, and humans don’t eat - well, they don’t eat crows. Well, not anymore. Well, rich people maybe. Or peasants with traps. But they wouldn’t eat talking crows. Not that chickens don’t beg for their lives, too.
Well, morning will bring me closer to the Fourth Kingdom. In the daylight, I will be fine.

We have been traveling all day, quiet, contemplating the scenery. We passed a sign welcoming us to the Fourth Kingdom, though I cannot remember how long ago that was. The change is evident, though; the woods are greener, thinner. One would expect wolves in the overgrown forests surrounding Rougefleur. Here, though…deceptively serene, I reckon. Well,
Deceptive, indeed. Where will we be at day’s end? I fear the full moon.
Ooohhh, but there are sheep. I cannot see them, but I can smell them. Everywhere. I can smell their dirty wool, their excrement, their skin… I can pick up the soft “baas” and bleats of the lambs. My hands tremble a little.
“…so, what do you think, Clover?”
I take in a breath, a half-gasp. The sheep smell is covering the succulent bird smell on my shoulder.
“What, Lir? I’m trying to watch the road.”
“Oh, well, I was just thinking of ways to regain my humanity, you know? Nothing important.”
“Mmm…”
And we clear the forest, and the path is suddenly well-kept and - oh dear. Rolling dark green pasture land enclosed by light brown wooden fences. Shepherdesses with crooks, shepherds with horns and most important of all, those glorious sheep! I halt my horse and dismount.
“Clover, what’s up? Why are we slowing down? Er, stopping, really, yeah?”
I rest my hands on the fence, lean over… Splinters dig into my hands. “We’ve, uh, been riding all day.” Lir joins my hands on the fence.
“Just sheep,” he says.
Sure, fluffy sheep, whose wool I wove how many times in Avon, whose flesh I ate in Rougefleur. Civilization, from eating to wearing! Such waste. I miss the old days. I wonder, can I just scoot into the field and grab one? None of the shepherds could catch me, I don’t think. I mean, I’ve been eating bread and jerky for days. Carefully, I place my right foot on the lowest rung of the fence, then the left, careful now, then over the top, but - I lose my balance and pitch face forward. Now all I can smell is the grass.
“Are you okay?” I hear from both above and beside me. I hear Lir at my ear; a young man stands above me. He offers his hand.
“Well, I…” I don’t know how to get out of this. He helps me to my feet. I brush myself off and discover the bandage on my hand coming loose, and fresh blood.
He smiles, tugs at his vest. “You must be here for the Full Moon Festival. I can tell by your eyes.”
“The Full Moon--”
He leans on his crook. “Sure, an’ if you want to get cleaned up, the new Clinic isn’t far.”
“Um, okay-- ”
“Let’s just get you back over the fence.” He puts a hand under my arm and guides me back to the fence. One foot, the other, and I am safely back on the road.
He leans over the fence and points down the road. “Now, you just keep following the road; Clinic’s not too far from the Baa Baa Bar. And you can’t miss the stake.”
I am already moving, but-- “Stake?”
The lad grins. “You can’t miss it. Enjoy your stay in Little Lamb Village!”
“There’s something odd about this place,” Lir whispers.
“I think you’re right,” I sigh.

This village, though, is beautiful. The grass is green, the streets are cobblestone, and there are flowers everywhere. And I feel… I don’t know, looking at these wooden houses, I feel like I’ve been here before. Or, a presence maybe. The streets are crowded, townspeople buying and selling, daily life going on, etc, etc. But there is one difference; now I know why this place feels familiar.
“Lir, do you see it too? Wolves!”
“Yeah, I see. Before I met you, I had no idea there were so many, yeah?”
Didn’t he say Little Lamb Village? Why are all these wolves here?
We find the clinic - it looks more like a tavern than anything else - hitch Richard to the post out front, and enter.
It’s quiet inside the clinic, and very bright; the walls are whitewashed. Music is playing from somewhere. There is a low desk, also painted white, and behind it sits a young woman in the same dress as the girls outside, except her clothes are all white.
She looks up and smiles. “Hello, I’m Nurse Bell. Do you need some help?” she asks sweetly.
“It’s her hand,” Lir says. “She cut it bad and we were sent here.”
“Let me see,” the woman says. She comes around from behind the desk and grabs my hand. “Wait here.” She disappears through a door behind the desk. I stare at the walls, listen to the music. Not very good music; I think the magic spell is off by a word. Even a bad syllable can screw these things up.

“Ooh, a newspaper,” Lir says, leaving my shoulder. He lands on a low table pushed against the wall. “Mmm, a couple months old,” he sighs. I shake my head and run my left hand through my hair. I need to wash it, and I should buy a new a shirt, and…
“Clover, there’s something here about your brother! Come see, yeah?” The crow jumps excitedly on the table. I join him and scan the smudgy words.
“See, I thought it was old, because it talks about Wendell’s coronation robe, but look.” He points his beak to the lower edge of the page. I kneel down and peer around his black feathers. And there it is, a small article, about a wolf, about Wolf, who was falsely convicted and nearly burned. At the stake. How he was saved by a young woman, an older man, and a golden retriever.
“What kind of place is this?” I whisper.
The young woman returns and grabs my hand. She rubs a salve on it and binds it up. “You’re all set for the Festival tonight.”
“Um, what is this Festival?” I ask as I dig for some coins. (Those will never again be left in the saddlebag.)
She stares at me, with raised eyebrows. “Surely you’re here for the Festival. I could tell right away you’re a wolf.”
“We’re just traveling,” Lir says.
She stares at him. “You may not want to stay here tonight, then.”
“But what is going on?” I ask again, exasperated.
She shakes her head, annoyed. “You wolves, you keep coming, disturbing the flocks. All to see the stake… Should have taken it down, but, well, we were too busy sorting out the problems with the Peeps.”
Wow, I’m lost.
“But you wolves keep coming. So, we have the Festival, and we can lock up our sheep and chickens and you can…do whatever it is you do.”
“Thanks for…my hand,” I say, and Lir and I leave.

I never thought - well, it never crossed my mind, I should say: I always looked at in terms of humans being flat out against wolves. Humans were bad, wolves just misunderstood. But we…we do destroy. That’s what Wolf was in prison for, attacking sheep. That’s what I was about to do. Well.

We make it to the town square. I see a well, and a platform, and lots of people. And there it is, a tall wooden stake. It is almost in the exact center, and is parallel with the well. People - wolves - are clustered around it. I fight my way through the crowd. A plaque is posted beside it. “Dedicated to the Noble Wolf. Our folly led him to greater things.” I reach out, run my fingers over the embossed words.
Always fire. Will it chase us for the rest of our lives, penance for the flames we escaped so long ago? So close to death, what was my brother thinking? The article, though, said the “young woman” helped save him. This Virginia, how brave. I cannot wait to meet her.
I move away from the stake.

“Come now, make a wish!” I look over to the well; a man is sitting there, smiling. He is chubby, in a pleasant, comic way. “You’ve got to make a wish in the wishing well.”
I smile. Lir rakes his claws in my shoulder. “C’mon Clover! It’s bad luck otherwise.”
I dig out two small coins. I place one in Lir’s beak. He closes his eyes, quickly flies to the round opening, drops the coin to a pleasing splash and returns to me.
I contemplate the pale rainbow over the roof of the well. I have no doubt I’ll see Wolf again, not now. If he can survive this, I will not be denied him. I wish for… I also have no doubt that I’ll see Deor and Isabella again, or that Henry loves me. I wish, then, that Lir’s humanity is restored to him. I close my eyes and toss the coin.
“Have a good day!” the man says as Lir and I leave.

Lir and I wander for a bit. We come across a wagon, a peddler selling ribbons.
“Come now, pretty girl like you, needs a new ribbon for her hair,” the seller says. I curb the urge to punch him for his condescension.
“We have nice leather thongs - be good for your necklace there - and some pretty patterned ones. Look! Look!” He rummages through his wares. “Here, perfect for you neck,” he says, showing me a thin lace of leather. I put a hand to my throat; I will never remove the coin again.
“No, thanks.”
“Nice red one? Matches the…” He makes a face. “Matches the blood on your shirt.”
I smile and rummage through the piles. Lir pulls one out and brings it to me. A cream-colored bit of fabric, with a green border and - green clovers. Three-leaf.
“This one will do,” I say, reaching for more money.
“Are you sure? You want another? Or silver, gold?”
I shake my head and tie my hair back.

“Clover, we gonna’ stay tonight? I don’t really want to stay the night in a town full of crazy wolves.”
“I agree.” I want to stay, ask about Wolf, but it’s not safe for Lir. And what’ll happen to me, full moon and surrounded by wolves? We should turn around, grab Richard, and get out of town. Maybe we can buy a map. We are at the edge of town, now, almost out, really. I probably would have forgotten my horse and kept walking, except for--
“Sister, have you been saved?” I am rudely pulled from my thoughts by a man in a black gown.
“Saved?” I cross my arms and stare. There is a large striped tent in the field behind the man.
The man comes closer, puts an arm around my shoulder. Lir flies away indignantly and I wince at the weight in my crow cuts. “Sister, now let me guess: You suffer from bad dreams, don’t you? Haunted by visions? Searching for peace, am I right?”
“Well, yes. Yes.”
“Sister Wolf, now, if you want, if you are willing, I can help you. Are you ready to be at peace?”
“Well, I--”
“Come with me, sister. There are others like you.” Arm still around my shoulders, he begins to walk.
“Well, my horse. I have to get my horse.”
“Get it and come back. Stay the night. We can help you.”
“C’mon Lir!” I call. He returns to my shoulder and I weave my way through town.
“Clover, I don’t like this.”
“Why not? We can spend the night and you’ll be safe.”
“Clover, I just…I just don’t like this place, okay?”
I stop and reach for Lir. It takes a moment, but I get him perched on my forearm. “Listen to me, Lir,” I growl, “I’m staying there tonight. I don’t want to take part in this, this Full Moon Festival nonsense. They’re just profiting off my brother! So, you can stay here and risk getting eaten, or stay with me. Or leave.” And I snap at him.
“Clover!” He stares at me. His eyes are flat. Flat! I’m crazy, I have this bird on my arm…I shouldn’t be friends with birds, I should be hunting them! Eating them, plucking each feather, seeing the blood prickle…
“Clover?”
I swallow. “So, then, what are you going to do?”
He shakes his little avian head. Bird skulls make excellent candle holders. “I’ll find you tomorrow,” he says.
“Stay safe!” I yell at him as he pushes off from my arm. I move on, and retrieve Richard. Then back to the tent.
“Welcome back, sister,” the man in black says. “Please, follow me. There’s others like you, waiting to meet you. You can put your horse out back.”