Natasha Luepke - The Wolf Now Roams Among Fearless Lambs

I nod and he leaves. I stretch my legs out in front of me; run my fingers over the green canvas of the cot. I watch the other people talk, but no one approaches me. I remove my spare shirt from my pack, turn my back, and quickly switche them. My fingers tremble as I button my clean shirt. I look at the mess in my lap. The left shoulder is in shreds and blood spatters most of the left side. Sweat stains it as well. I sigh, then rummage through my pack and find my sewing kit. I set to work. I do not look up again until Fleecer addresses us.
“Brothers and sisters, it is now time for dinner. The Full Moon Festival will be starting soon; if you want to leave, now is the time. But if you want to be saved, if you want an existence free of fear, to leave the past in the past, well, then, please stay!”
A girl, a teen, brings me a plate; I set down my sewing and smile at her. The moon is rising outside, blotted by the red and white striped tent, but I can *feel* it: it burns. The moon burns as bright as the sun, I can feel it on my back, and all I want to do is -- is frolic! Frolic in the celestial light, bathe in the moonbeams, and dance in the darkness. But I look to my plate. I want peace too. I think.
Oohh, I’d been craving crows and salivating over sheep, for dinner we have - we have vegetables. A plateful of green, of sad salad, of frivolous fruit, of bad broccoli, of rotting rutabagas. I squeeze a beet, so I’ll have some blood. No one complains, so neither do I. Vegetables are good for you, right? My parents insisted such, but they were humans once. Put hair on your chest, they’d say.
I can hear music outside, sensual songs, bumping thumping humping drums, cymbals to kill by, pan pipes to eat by… What do they do for this festival, I wonder? And then: the howling starts. And I want to join.
“Now listen,” Fleecer is saying, standing on a platform at the front of the tent, “now listen. You can hear that howling, can’t you? And so can I, and so can I. That howling, I tell you, it’s a call of death. When you howl, you let in the reaper, you bring only fear. The howl is the death scream, it beckons carrion crows, the only other place it is heard is the battlefield! It seduces you with promises of blood.
“But you must resist! That’s the first step to your peace, resist the moon. The moon, so bright when it’s full, it’s just rock. You know that, don’t you? It can’t control you. Just say ‘no’! ‘No’ to its call.”
I wonder how long it would take to rush to the front and rip out his throat.
“Now get some sleep. We have more work tomorrow.”
The light is extinguished. I slip out.

The town is alive, throbbing, bathed in moonlight, loved by la luna, loving her in turn. Wolves dance and sway; the flocks have been put away long ago. This is not death, this is not about killing; it’s about life!
“Join us!” they call to me, extending their hands. They do not offer to save me. They do not say I am their sister. I know I am their sister.
People twirl, fancy ribbons and streamers flying. Everything looks different; the colors are different. Brighter but blurred. People toss flowers into the crowd. I catch a small bouquet. And for a moment-- the colors blur, the dancers move faster, I fear I will be sick, but then everything slows. And stops. I move through the still shapes, the frozen figures, captured in conversation, absolutely still in their dance steps. I pick my way through them, inexplicably drawn to the stake still in the center of town.

Dead wood, ha- you did not get my brother! You, who have haunted my thoughts, darkened my vision, yet I am here. And alive! And so is Deor and so is Wolf. You cannot have us. I toss my bouquet; it lands at the base. I have my peace, good-bye; I have my peace, good-bye.

All is normal and life resumes. I slink back to the tent.

“Brothers, sisters, how do you feel?” Fleecer asks us at dawn. “Don’t you feel refreshed after a good night’s sleep? Howling at the moon, that will bring bad dreams. But a healthy meal, a healthy rest; why, you’re well on your way. On your way to peace, my friends.”
I make sure I have everything, grab my pack and make for the exit.
“Wait, sister! Sister!” Fleecer races after me, grabs my arm. “Where are you going, my dear?”
“I have to meet a friend,” I say. I reach into my pocket and offer him a coin. “Thank you for everything. Last night gave me a chance to think.”
“You can’t leave,” he says. “Not yet. Just stay another hour. Trust me.”
“Well, I--”
He squeezes my arm. “Trust me.” He then turns away and calls to the rest of the wolves to follow us.
We go to a patch of dark green grass behind the tent; I can see the horses a little beyond. We stop at a low wooden table.
“The way to peace,” Fleecer says, “is to accept your human self totally. I’m not saying to deny your wolfishness, but to refuse to give in to it. And there’s only one way to do that.” He finally lets go of me and produces a small bag from behind the table.
“Sister, you left the tent last night, didn’t you?” he asks me.
“Yes.”
“Sister, will you show us your tail? To prove your wolfishiness?”
I swallow, but I do, revealing that poor furred thing. “My name is Clover,” I say. “Not ‘sister.’”
“’Clover’ is your wolf name, sister. We shall give you a new one, you shall be reborn.” In one fluid motion, he has grabbed my tail and produced a very large, very sharp knife. I am frozen.
The sun glints from the silver blade; I can count the splinters in the handle. I can see the leaves flutter in the breeze, the clouds drift across the sky. And I can see a black shape, a courageous crow, with talons bright. They sink into Fleecer’s arm, his left arm, and so he lets go of my tail and drops the knife - thankfully in that order - and the other wolves are running and so am I.
“Don’t you see?” Fleecer calls after me as I race for my horse, “you wolves are evil! You just sweep into our village - it’s not even ours anymore!” I can hear Lir’s voice reply, but I cannot discern his words.
I cannot think. Nothing! Just saddling Richard and leaving. Quick, quick. Ahh, but my hands are shaking. And I am on and I am off-
We gallop past Fleecer, who is shaking his head. And then Lir is on my shoulder, ripping new holes in my new shirt. “Thank you, friend,” I say to the wind.
“You okay now?”
I smile. “I am, Lir. I am.”

My hands are jumpy. My guts leap in excitement, in anticipation. If my legs weren’t sore from riding, I’d jump and dance, something. Anything. My shoulders are buzzing. I wish I could write, I wish I could paint, something to diffuse this feeling. We’re close. To what I do not know. But I picked up the faintest scent of my brother in Little Lamb Village and now it pulls me; this memory of an older adventure is drawing me forward. And, oh, I want to be done. I would sing, but all of the songs I remember from my childhood involve sheep, eating, or both, and I don’t want to tempt myself, with Lir on my shoulder. I hum loudly, instead. Amidst the humming, I am breathing - the smell of green hangs in the air, and it, too, beckons. The world is a map before me: on all sides are the little homes of the little animals, resting rabbits and cozy ‘coons; up above are the beady-eyed birds, ever vigilant; and straight ahead is something, my blood, my life, the future, the promise, a promise… The leaves are greener, the dead grass of the road alive with yellow; it could be spring.
I think, for the first time ever, I am in love with the world.
“Clover, you okay?”
I turn my eyes to him, sitting still on my shoulder. “I am splendid, Lir, splendid. I’m not sure what to do with myself, actually.”
“It’s good, Clover, yeah? A nice change.” He would smile, if he had lips. I smile for him, grin for me. There is laughter in the wind.
Lir leaves my shoulder, and disappears among the trees far ahead. Suddenly, I hear his crow’s cackle, his voice crackle, but it is smoother - it is a song. Lir is singing for me, as I smiled for him.

“The walls were painted white,
The better for reflecting light.
Light and laughter,
Danced across those walls,
Danced through those halls.

“Enjoyed by all, by all,
By everyone and all.

“And the music was sweet,
light and sweet.
Swaying on melodic feet,
A partner for that strong beat,
Sliding in the hall.

“Enjoyed by all, by all,
By everyone and all.

“And the bonny girls,
In swans’ dress.
They always know the right caress,
And they always know where to press,
Skipping in the hall

“Enjoyed by all, by all,
By everyone and all…”

“Lir!” I am beneath him now.
“Hmmm?” He flicks a wing; branches break, leaves are loosed; he is perched a few feet ahead yet. “I learned that in the Great Hall.”
“The Great Beer Hall.”
Lir crows, and it reverberates off the tree trunks. I hear him swear, then: “Clover! Uh, I think I need your help.”
The sunlight is beginning to fade.
I pick Lir from the branches; he is caught in a net, a total tangle of claws and feathers and leaves. I dismount and, ignoring the pain in my legs, make my way to the tree. I stand directly below Lir and look up. Such a mess he is, legs above his head. I cannot help but laugh. I will pay for this laugh, I know, mirth is never without cost, I am too poor to be joyful, but all the same. All the same.
“Clover, wanna help, yeah?”
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of these final giggles. I climb the tree, careful of my poor legs, my skirt, loose bark… I stretch myself across the branch he is suspended from. The ropes of the net are extremely tough, hard, and unyielding. All of my attention is focused on untying one knot at a time.
“What’re you doing?” I hear below us. “That’s my dinner.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But my friend’s been caught in the net by mistake.” I can make out a round peasant woman now, dressed in brown and pink.
“Yer friend looks like a crow t’ me.”
“Well, I am,” Lir says.
“He can talk; he’s magic,” I add.
The woman crosses her arms. “If I let go every animal that could talk, I’d never eat.”
Success! A knot comes loose. “Well, I’m sorry ma’am. But he’s a human and--”
She snorts. “You think I ain’t heard that before?”
“Well, I have some food in my saddlebag I can share with you.”
“Truth is” I can see she is leaning on a pitchfork “is it’s my daughter’s wedding tomorrow, and I’m short a black bird for the pie.”
Of course.
“Catch me another black bird, and I’ll let your friend go,” she says.
My hands slip as she says that. Catch a black bird. Ooohhh, yes, yes indeed.
“Can’t you use a chicken or something?” Lir asks.
“Nope.”
I get another knot; enough room for Lir to escape. As he emerges from his rope cocoon, I shimmy down the tree. As I straighten myself out, the woman grabs my wrist.
“Well, then, you bring me another blackbird, and I’ll hold onto her,” she says to Lir.
“Okay,” Lir says.
I try to wrench out of her grasp, but she threatens me with the pitchfork. “Now, now, I’m sure your ‘friend’ will be true to his word.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Lir says as he disappears among the trees.
The woman and I wait for him. She does not say anything; nor do I. I whistle a little, bored. Richard stamps the ground. I think I hear noise in my saddlebags, but I’m not sure.
“They’re some squirrels over that way,” I say. “They’re pretty tasty. Oh, and - yes, there’s a rabbit that way, I could--”
She pokes me with the pitchfork.
Finally, Lir returns, and drops a lump at the woman’s feet. She lets go of my arm and I run for Richard.
“Go, gallop, anything,” Lir says in my ear. I mount as quickly as I can and we’re off.
“Lir, you look…sparser than when you left.”
He chuckles. “Oh, well… I fished a bag of jerky from the saddlebag, rolled it in some mud, and used some of my feathers to give it the proper smell.”
“Oh, Lir, are you okay?”
“They’ll grow back.” He settles in on my shoulder. “Let’s not stop anymore except to sleep, okay?”
I take in a breath. “We’re almost there, Lir. I can feel it.”

I am almost there, I can feel it. I can feel it. Where, where? Somewhere, and soon, and soon I will have my answer. I almost said “my peace.” But no, soon this journey will end, this horse will stop and-
Breathe. Breathe. Concentrate on the words. A word.
The road. It is dirt black and dead grass yellow. It moves fast, and for that I am thankful. Fast, frothing, quickly, cruelly. With rends in my shoulders from crow claws, desperate, deathly, deathly afraid. Black feathers fly, taking to the sky, even as the body cannot, as the body remains earthbound, unnoticed red blood and ebony feathers mixing with snow white shreds of shirt.
Breathe, breathe.
Heavy horse flesh heaves, sweats, shines beneath me. I am wrong. I am wrong to push, to want, but I am so close, so close, so close.
Breathe breathe.
But the trees are thinning, the grass is growing, growing healthier, the sun is brighter. My head is swimming, just a little, I miss Avon, just a little. Deor, Isabella, Henry…all those I love, just a little. …and Wolf. Just a lot. Right? Right?
Breathebreathe-
And now, and now - we are out of the forest, completely, and the road is well-kept now, completely, and there is the castle, completely, fully, towering, majestically.
Breathe.    Breathe.    Breathe.

Concentrate on the eyes. They are generally brown, deep and dark, a shining world of dead leaves. But they can come to life, they can burn green, oh yes, one of the few perks of being a wolf. And I am loathe to use this simple trick, but it is all I have…
We take the dark road to the castle door, crossing over a low bridge. I wonder if Wolf felt the awe I do seeing this castle. The first time he saw it, he was treated as a hero, I do not doubt.
“He swam in, they say,” Lir crows into my ear.
“What?”
“To get into the castle, your brother knew a secret route…He went first to make sure it was safe and--”
“Quiet, I have to concentrate.” Of course my brother swam the moat.
Green lawn on either side, alive and beautiful. I can see two guards ahead, in Fourth Kingdom livery.

Poor Richard is, I fear, nearly out of breath as we slow even more. Breathe. Blink.
“Can we help you, madam?” asks one of the guards.
I gracefully slip from the saddle, displacing Lir in the process. “Why yes, yes you may help me. I am Clover Avon de Rougefleur.” I drop a little curtsy/sweeping half-bow sort of gesture. I smile and stare into the pale brown eyes of the guard who’d addressed me. “I am here to see King Wendell.”
“Of course you are.”
“What?” questions the other guard.
I cross to him. “Of course I am.”
He nods.
“And I shall need someone to attend my horse. It has been a difficult journey and he is exhausted. He is the finest animal I own, so treat him well.”
The second guard takes Richard’s reign; the first guard takes my arm.
“Welcome to the Fourth Kingdom,” he begins. “If we had known you were coming -- ”
“Oh! One thing more, good sir. I shall need somewhere to freshen up.”
“Of course, of course.”
Lir lands on my shoulder and we follow the guard in.

We enter through a small side door, Richard having been lead off in the other direction. The door is yellow, blending in with the wall. On the other side is a hallway, red and white stretching in either direction.
I follow him down the hall, passing blue doors emblazoned with bright suns. Finally, the guard opens another door, revealing a small washroom.
“You can freshen up. If you continue down the hall, the last door on the left belongs to Lord Rupert, the king’s assistant. He’ll help you.”
“Thank you, sir.” I reach into my pocket and find a coin. “May your days be…filled with happiness.” He smiles, nods his head, and leaves. I shut the door.
“How did you do that?” Lir asks, his voice jarring after so much silence.
I stare into the mirror. My eyes are bright green, with more energy than emeralds.
“A trick I learned…magic I was born with, really.”
Lir hops to the rim of the washbasin. “But, I would think…I mean, everything that’s happened, yeah, to Wendell? Why isn’t this place crawling with guards?”
I peer into the mirror. “Maybe it is.”
“But the Evil Queen--”
“You said she was dead.”
“Well, yeah.”
“So soon after, no one’s going to try something similar.”
He begins to preen his feathers. “I suppose you’re right.”

I pull my ribbon from my hair, most of which had long escaped its pony tail anyway. My cheeks are streaked with dirt. My blouse is sweat-stained, with pale blood pooled at my left shoulder. I wash my face and run some water through my hair. Eww, it smells like wet dog. I sigh, then pull it back.
“You’ll behave,” I say to Lir.
He ruffles his feathers. “I have so far.”

I smile, then play with the loose shards of my shirt.
“Here, let me perch--” He lights to my shoulder, and hides the rips and most of the blood with his black body. “What if your brother is here?”
I laugh. “I don’t know.” What if my brother is here, up some grand stair case, down some wide hall, seated on a stuffed couch, with his girl at his side… But I think, “I think I would know, Lir, if he was somewhere in this castle. I’d be able to smell him.”
He nods.
“But still, soon, I’ll know where he is. My quest is almost over.”
He stretches out his wing. “Almost.”
I take a deep breath and go back to the hall.

I knock on Lord Rupert’s door, another blue one. It swings open before me. Rupert is seated at desk, a large notebook spread before him. He is dressed in gold and black, very fashionable.
“Yes?” He looks up.
The eyes, the eyes, it’s all about the eyes…
“My name is Clover Avon de Rougefleur. I have come seeking information about my brother.”
He cocks his eyebrow. “And just who is your brother?”
“Wolf.”
He smiles gently, kindly, patronizingly. “My dear, do you know how many have appeared at the king’s door, claiming to be long-lost relatives of Wolf?”
Blink. I swallow. “Well, well…ask me anything, then. I have waited so long to see him.”
Rupert pushes back from his desk. “Okay. Well…” He moves to a bookcase on the left side of the room. He selects a volume and flips it open. “What was Wolf’s mother’s name?”
“Buttercup.”
He looks up, clearly surprised. “Good. Which of his parents was a wolf?”
“Well, they both were, at least when we were cubs.”
He nods. “Well, then… How did Wolf get out of the Snow White Memorial Prison?”
I…I don’t know. “A mirror,” Lir whispers. I hold my breath so I can hear more. “The Evil Queen let him out of his cell and he went to the tenth Kingdom through a mirror.”
I repeat this to Rupert. “Yes,” he says, “yes.”
“May I see the king now?”
“Follow me.” Through another blue door and then - the Throne Room.

The Throne Room is decked out in red and white and gold. Courtiers and guards clutter the room. But there is greenery everywhere, bright fresh branches of life in this scary, stifling room. Lir whistles. I concentrate on breathing.
The throne is set against the center of the wall. I can see a young man seated on it: the king. Rupert ushers me forward.
“Your Majesty, this woman wishes a word with you.”
Wendell looks up from the papers he is holding. He smiles warmly. “What can I do for you?”
For the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time, I introduce myself and explain for whom I am looking.
“Wolf is not here,” Wendell says.
“I am not surprised; I could not smell him.”
Wendell’s smile becomes a little tighter. “Of course.”
“Where is he, then, Your Majesty?”
“Not here. Not even in the Fourth Kingdom.”
“I have been riding for days, for weeks. Tell me where he is, give me a scent, and I will find him.”
Wendell sighs. “It’s not that simple.”
What would be the maximum penalty for mauling the king, for attacking him, ripping out his guts, stealing his stalling tongue…?
“Please, just tell me.”
“He is in the Tenth Kingdom.”
I take a deep breath. “How do I get there? What magic will take me?”
He shifts in his seat. “Well - you can’t. It’s regulated, the way in and out.”
Of course it is. “A mirror, right?”
“Yes, a mirror. Which I keep safe here in my castle.”
“Is there only one?”
“For now, yes.”
“And you get to keep it?”
“Well--”
I can feel the blood; Lir is digging his claws into my shoulder, trying to silence me. Trying to stop me! “That’s wonderful, sire, just wonderful. And what if, what if you decide to smash the mirror, trapping my brother on the other side? Or decide to separate him from his mate? That’d kill him, I know.” I fear Lir’s claws have finally hit bone. “What if you got in a fight?” I stalk closer to the throne. “Wanted Virginia for yourself? Then where would Wolf be?”
“I think, madam, you forget yourself,” Wendell says.
“It’s been ten years…I just want to see my brother.”
Wendell sighs. “I’ll show you the mirror. To assure that it is one piece and will remain that way.”
I am silent for a moment, head bowed. Breathe; I must remember to breathe…
Wendell stands and walks away, followed by Rupert. Rupert turns a moment to beckon to me. He grimaces and I follow his line of sight: red streaks run down my left side, courtesy of Lir.
They lead me through twisty hallways, antique anterooms, palatial parlors, up one set of rickety stairs, then down another. We finally stop at a plain brown door, flanked by two guards. They bow to Wendell and let us enter.
The room is plain; well, dark; I can barely see anything, except for a large mirror. The edges are gold, the glass is shining. I stare at us, wolf, crow, and two humans. The blood isn’t dripping so badly now.
“This is the magic mirror,” Wendell tells me. “Through which Wolf and Virginia may come and go whenever they like. It’s important to Virginia’s father, naturally. He lives here, did you know that?”
“No.”
Wendell reaches out and moves a piece of molding on mirror’s frame.
And I am looking at another world. Darkness lit by a thousand lights, brighter and steadier than the stars. Grass and trees and buildings taller than the castle towers. It takes my breath away.
“Is this an entire kingdom based on magic?” Lir asks.
Wendell looks startled that my crow spoke. “Well…I’m not sure. Tony mentioned something about an ‘Industrial Revolution,’ I think that’s part of it.”
I gingerly reach out my right hand. My fingertips just brush the glass when Wendell…shuts it off? Closes it? The vision is gone.
“Satisfied?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not in the least, Your Majesty.”
He takes me by the elbow and we leave the room, tunneling through the palace.
“Of course, you may stay the night, rest up and have a good meal.”
“With respect, I should get back on the road.”
“Of course. If you need fresh supplies, please help yourself.”
Somehow, we’re back in the throne room.
“If you leave an address,” Wendell continues. “Paper, please!”
Rupert produces some, and a pen besides. I carefully pen in “Clover, c/o The Post Office, Avon, Three Kingdoms’ Border.” I return the items to the king.
But wait, I should leave a sign. I should. Fingers trembling, I fumble with the knot of ribbon at my throat. I hand the coin, my mother’s coin; our mother’s coin, to this king, this outsider, this…usurper. No, not usurper, this…son of a sheep. Best I can do.
I hand him the coin. “Wolf will know me by this.”
Wendell nods. To me, to the coin, I am not sure.

The kitchen, quite naturally, is full of people: cooks, scullery maids, goose girls, boys to turn the spit.
“Oh, excellent,” a cook says to me, extending flour-covered hands. “We needed one more.”
I take a step back. “One more what?”
She nods to my shoulder. “One more bird, for dinner. And a nice one he is, too. I can see he gave you a bit of fight.”
“I am not dinner!” Lir says indignantly. “Why does everyone want to eat me?”
The cook pouts. “And if you’re not here to help, what are you here for?”
“The king said I could get some supplies.”
She throws up her hands. “Oh, a moocher!” She scuttles around a table, produces a brown paper bag and begins to grab bread, dried meat, and fruit at random.
“Thank you?”
The cook turns away.

Lir and I stumble outside, glad to be free of the smoky kitchen. Richard is already waiting.
“You don’t want to eat me, right, Clover?” Lir asks.
“What?” I add the new provisions to the saddlebags, which…are…already full of fresh provisions.
“Like everyone else in this kingdom.”
“What?”
Lir says, “You wouldn’t want to eat me, right?”
“Of course…not. Of course not, don’t be silly.”
Lir ruffle his feathers. “Good. ‘Cause some would say pairing a large crow and a wolf woman together might not be the best thing, yeah?”
I force a laugh. “Yes, well…”

Time to move on.