Macster - The Last Dragon

It had felt like a physical manifestation of the wall that had formed between them ever since their departure from Incarnadine, and it made him want to howl in despair. It was his own fault, too. If he had not been so focused on revenge, on hate, he would have been far more attentive to Virginia and devoted to her welfare. And if he had not been ruled by his pride and his refusal to appear weak before Red Riding Hood, he would have better avoided the May Queen and her sprites, and then both the dangerous ride through the forest and their present predicament would never have occurred.

How could he be so blind, so stupid? Now he might lose his one true love! He whimpered pitifully. And not only that, but he had a sense of unease and disquiet churning in his stomach, as if he were even more culpable than he knew. Something felt very wrong about his actions, as if he had betrayed something precious...

Forcing himself to focus on the problem at hand, he scratched at his temple and listened. Somewhere nearby he could hear the shrieks and cries of his aunt, but he ignored them. Elsewhere, far distant, he heard Virginia call his name.

"Coming!" Reminded painfully of their glorious romp of hide-and-seek in the woods near Wendell's castle, he sniffed the air again, finally catching hints of his mate's scent. Then he dashed off in pursuit.

The problem was, the maze was not designed for easy access to any given point. For all he knew, there might not even be any egress between the various paths to the center. Still, he was not about to give up. At each intersection of hedges he paused, reaching out with all his senses to determine his course. He was forced to rely on sound and smell alone, for the passages all looked the same, and the swirling mist reduced visibility to near zero only a few feet ahead of and behind him. The dark shadows and leaves of the towering yews were gloomy, depressive, even ominous, and he could swear they were pressing closer, narrowing the path imperceptibly.

Several times he went the wrong way, reaching a dead end, and had to double back, and other times he lost Virginia's scent and had to backtrack again to regain it. Each time he did, he found some aspect of his route had changed--the path angled the opposite direction as before, or had been blocked off altogether by a shifted hedge, and he lost precious minutes to seeking out a new avenue. He had a feeling he was being herded in a specific direction, and would not be able to find Virginia unless he followed a certain path through the maze, a thought that enraged him. But he had no choice except compliance, the May Queen's faerie magic was too strong to be circumvented.

Dashing down one zigzagging path, Wolf sprinted until he reached a T-intersection and went left, then came almost immediately to a Y-intersection and went right. In similar fashion he wound a circuitous course around the maze until finally, something unexpected happened. He came to another juncture--and this time Virginia's scent was equally strong both ways. He had no idea which route was the correct one.

Growling in frustration, he threw back his head and howled mournfully. He would never find his mate now, never! Fine mess, fine mess! But what do you expect, you've already failed her so many times on this quest, letting her get captured by Red, not rescuing her from her cell, not listening to Benjamin Tell, getting her trapped by the May Queen, putting her and the cub in danger--no she forgave me for that! Yes but she's still mad at you, and now if you get out of this she'll hate you and why shouldn't she it's all because you insisted on bringing Red along that this happened, you and that lust for vengeance that's consumed you, that's why she's afraid of you now too and doesn't trust you anymore! No, she loves me, she trusts me, she has since the swamp, since I saved her from the Huntsman, and anyway I've changed! No you haven't, you're the same vicious wolf as always, and she knows it, she knows you don't really want to help her anyway, that you still think Wendell was better as a dog, you just wanted to be with her all alone so you could be her hero and fool yourself into thinking you're anything but the nasty animal you are nasty animal nasty animal nasty--

"You're not a nasty animal, Wolf, you're not anything of the sort," came a deep, melodious voice from behind him. A very familiar voice. "Huff-puff, I thought I raised you better than that."

The berating mental dialogue he had lapsed into out of habit faded away, and Wolf slowly turned around, unable to believe what he was hearing. But when he saw who stood watching him in the mist, his heart nearly stopped as well. It was impossible, but there was no mistaking that squarish chin jutting out in defiance...that full, sensuous mouth turned down in a disapproving frown he knew so well from when he had been disciplined as a cub...those features, so like his own...that long brown hair tied back in a ponytail resting on one broad shoulder...those flashing green eyes, filled with wisdom, sympathy, regret. Even the clothes were familiar, the fine burgundy suit and cream silk shirt with ruffled collar that he had worn on festival days at the village dances. And emerging from the back of his coat was a black and gray tail, swishing back and forth as it had when he was irritated.

It was his father, Duncan.

"F-father?!?" He could barely speak the word. "Is it really you?"

A touch of mischief gleamed in Duncan's eyes. "Do you know any other wolves as dashing and handsome?"

Wolf could barely manage to make his tongue work. "B-but...you're dead!" he blurted at last. How intelligent.

His father nodded slowly, somberly. "Of course I am. But thanks to the May Queen, I can visit you. And you have need of my help, son."

Hope flared in Wolf's breast, and he rushed at once to Duncan's side, reaching out instinctively to take his hands. "Oh boy, do I ever! Can you tell me the way, guide me through this maze? I have to find..." He trailed off as he gazed down in astonishment at the warm, firm hands in his grip, olive-toned and covered with dark, curling hair. He could touch him!

Even as he was still coming to terms with this incredible development, his father was answering his question with a regretful sigh. "No, Wolf, I cannot. Only you hold the key to solving the maze, here in your heart." He tapped Wolf's chest. "But what I can do is help you to understand that key, and use it."

Puzzled, Wolf brushed the confusing response aside. His father was here, truly here! Nothing else mattered at this moment in time. Without hesitation he enfolded Duncan in the tightest and longest hug he had ever given anyone, clutching him close as if he could keep him from ever leaving again. Tears ran down his cheeks and soaked into the shoulder of the velvet suit jacket. Somehow all the pain and anguish and danger of the quest, of his whole life, seemed to be expunged, wiped clean by this single shining instant, as if none of it mattered. His father was here, in his arms, and even if he knew, deep down inside, that Duncan did not live and never would again, still...simply being able to touch him once more, to hold him close, opened up parts of Wolf's heart he had thought forever sealed. The only other time he could remember being this happy was when Virginia had first told him she loved him.

Duncan too seemed extremely glad at this reunion, and just as reluctant to break the embrace. Even after he stepped back, his father kept his hands on Wolf's shoulders, squeezing and patting them as if he too needed reassurance. "My son...how tall and strong you've grown. You've become everything I always knew you would be. I'm so proud of you!"

Wolf blinked away his tears and whined in sheer joy. He had never thought he'd hear those words. "Thank you, Father. I know I let you down for so many years...but I finally found my way, I found Virginia, and she helped me become myself again...to regain my honor. And I saved the Kingdoms, did you know that?" He grinned cubbishly, knowing how eager and silly he must sound but not caring.

A nod and a broad grin was his reply. "I most certainly do. I always knew you would one day prove wolves were not savage beasts." Duncan paused, and then he frowned, and the shadows of the hedges and the gathering darkness of night seemed to collect and drape over his features. "But...and I hate to say this, yet I must be honest, and it is for your sake that I come to you now...there is one way in which you have not made me proud, in which you have shunned my teachings and wounded me deeply." His words were soft, but they stabbed an icy chill in Wolf's heart.

Whimpering, Wolf shook his head in denial, unable to accept it. He had been so happy, and now this threatened to bring it all crumbling down into the depths again. What could he have done wrong? Had he somehow earned the displeasure and contempt of his father, as he had always feared he would? Again that sense of betrayal niggled at the back of his mind. Licking his dry lips, he hastened to assure Duncan that all would be well. "What? No no, Father, I would never do anything to hurt you, never ever! And if I did I would make it up to you immediately. Just tell me what it is, and I will remedy it, you have my wolf word!" He scratched at his temple to emphasize the point. Surely his father would be proud again now, he was being a true wolf and taking responsibility. He just could not lose his approval, not now.

Duncan stared at him for a long time, his expression inscrutable. Finally, just as Wolf's agitation reached the breaking point, he replied, his tone deceptively simple. "What you have done, Wolf, is seek revenge against your aunt."

Stunned, Wolf fell back, his mouth working silently as his heart pounded in his chest. That elusive feeling of having denied the truth to himself flared with white-hot clarity in his mind. This was what he had been avoiding, what he could not face--that ever since his decision to take Red hostage, he had been turning his back on his father.

Horrified, he tried futilely to explain. "Father...I...no...you don't understand..." The words to excuse himself would not come, for there was no excuse. His desire for revenge, his hatred, his sheer terrorism, they all went counter to everything he had been taught as a cub! How could he have gone so far astray?

Sighing, Duncan reached out and took his shaking hands. "Son...I do understand your anger at her, your need to avenge our deaths. I understand it well, I was witness to the same impulses and rages in my father. I do not blame you for wishing harm to the one who destroyed your life. But I cannot condone it. Did you hear nothing of what I instilled in you? Did you forget how I worked all my life to end the feud? Did you forget what I told you...or did you reject it? Cripes, Wolf, don't you see what you've become? By clinging to your hatred, your fury, you are acting no better than your grandfather. Revenge is a hollow thing...once it is achieved, what do you do with the rest of your life? Continue down this path, and you will meet the same fate as every generation of our family has met. Because you are proving true Carmine's prejudices...you are giving her just cause to pass yet further laws against our kind. You are fulfilling every wolf stereotype...you have given in to the darkness." The resignation and disappointment welling up in his father's voice were more searing and gut-wrenching than any anger could ever be.

Wolf could not meet Duncan's eyes. The only word he could think of to describe his heart was crushed. All of his cubhood he had looked up to his father, wanting only to please him and make him proud. To know he had failed to do so now, right after being told he had succeeded, and that it was not just any failure but a betrayal of the core beliefs his father held--it felt like he had been eviscerated in a wolven fight for dominance. "Father..." he whined. "I'm sorry...I'm so so sorry..." He swayed on his feet, as if the ground were rolling again.

"That is good, son." Duncan smiled, if a trifle grimly, and nodded. "Then there is still hope. There is still a chance you won't doom your fellow wolves...that you can still make my dream of peace with the House of Red come true."

Nausea swept over Wolf as he stepped back a pace from his father, then another. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, darting about as if hunting for prey, which in a sense they were. For he was desperate to find some way to avoid what he knew was coming, the request Duncan would make, against which every fiber within him cried out. The request he was compelled to fulfill, since he had given his wolf word. He longed for some way to escape, but there was none, he was still trapped within the maze, and in any case he could not move. It was as if his feet were rooted to the spot.

Finally he replied, hoarse and barely audible. "And h-how can I do that?"

Duncan looked as if he were waiting for this question, and he certainly pounced upon it. "By giving up on your revenge against Carmine. Let it go, Wolf. Just let it go."

Wolf stared at him in disbelief, even though he had known that would be the price. He felt as if he were the one burning upon a pyre--an image that reminded him disconcertingly of his conviction in the murder of Sally Peep. He couldn't even speak, he could only swallow and gulp soundlessly.

"I know that seems impossible to you, son, but believe me, it can be done. And it must be, for your sake, and Red's, and for the Nine Kingdoms. And simply for your own peace of mind." Duncan held up his hands imploringly. "This has been dragging you down for years, burning into your heart, and all it has done is brought more pain and suffering. It is what I told my father and brothers, the violence and hatred must end, and end now. Only then can there be true acceptance and hope. Please, Wolf...do it for Virginia, and for me." The sincerity and appeal in his voice were so heartfelt and real Wolf could not deny or avoid them.

He took a step forward again, reaching out mutely to his father--and then he fell to his knees and began to weep. "Father...no..."

Duncan sighed and shook his head. "Yes. You must. Or you will never escape this maze. If you do not purge this need for revenge you will be blind to the path out...to any path set before you. A wolf who focuses on one scent, to the exclusion of all others, will be caught unawares by the bow of the hunter, and then his family will starve. Then you will have failed your mate and the Kingdoms...you will have failed me."

Wolf could barely see him for the tears welling up unbidden, and it was as if the blindness his father described had become a reality. He would do nothing to jeopardize Virginia's safety, and his father's trust meant the world to him. The two most resonant chords in his heart had just been struck. Still, he vacillated. "But how...how can I do it? I hate her so much...after what she did to you...to me...to Mother..."

To his surprise his father sank to his knees before him and took his hands again, their twin emerald gazes meeting and eclipsing. Wolf shuddered, as he felt his soul laid bare, all the secrets he wished kept hidden away, all the things he had said and done that he regretted, all the things that separated him from his father. Somehow he felt it had been spilled out in a cluttered disarray between them, with the light of the moon to illuminate and reveal all that lay therein, picking out the glaring faults and shadowy sins.

"Son...she did us evil. This cannot be denied. But like it or not, she is your family, and a wolf never turns his back on his family. You don't have to forgive her, not yet. Maybe not ever." Duncan lifted Wolf's hands to his heart, and he did not resist, entranced by the words he was hearing. "You don't even have to love her. But you do have to abandon your revenge. She is the last hope wolves have for being spared further persecution. You have to get through to her, break down the walls of her heart...and you can't do that if you're using scare tactics, threats, and violent retribution. You have to see things from her side, and then use it to enable her to see yours."

The words were compelling, and Wolf's resolve began to crack. "I...I..." He shook his head to clear it of the confusion. It didn't work, it clung like cobwebs. "Are you sure this is the only way?"

Duncan nodded without hesitation. "I know I am asking a great deal of you, but no quest is ever fulfilled without sacrifice. You must do what you think is right, of course. It is your choice, as it has always been. But this is the proper choice. Have I ever led you wrong? You don't defeat evil with more evil. Seek justice, not revenge."

Balling his fists so tightly they shook, Wolf closed his eyes and whimpered softly. He could see their faces behind his eyelids--Red's and Virginia's, one filled with hatred and contempt, the other with love and gentleness. He could not have both. He could not have his revenge on Red, and keep his closeness to Virginia, his ability to protect her. His beleaguered mind had to choose.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, next to watching his parents burn. It was harder than all those years in prison, harder than fighting the will of the Evil Queen for a month, harder than losing Virginia. Because unlike those experiences, this involved something that had been his companion and stay for over half his life. And yet at the same time, when he whittled down through all the self-delusion and excuses, it was shockingly easy. Because the fact of the matter was, if it were necessary to rescue Virginia, he would do it. If it were necessary as part of the honor and pride of being a wolf, as well as cleansing the wolven reputation, he would do it. And most of all, if it were necessary to fulfill his father's wishes, to prove he followed Duncan's teachings and always would, then he would do it.

Even so, he could barely utter the words, and when he did it was in a faded, broken whisper. "All right...all right. I'll do it. I'll give up my revenge."

There came a sudden wrenching in his chest, and he gasped in agony as something was displaced, ripping away from his heart. His eyes popped open and he looked down in time to see a diaphanous ball of mist, seeming no different from any patch hovering among the yew leaves, drift clear of his chest, rotating endlessly. As he watched, dumbfounded and fascinated, it rose away from him, rising to settle in the hand of Duncan, who now stood before him again. There it vanished, dissipating harmlessly.

"Thank you, Wolf," his father said softly, lovingly. "You won't regret this. In fact you'll thank me when your quest is over, if not before."

Wolf blinked, squinting, as Duncan's form became wispy, indistinct. And suddenly he realized he was breaking apart, rejoining the mystical fog around them. "No! No! Father, don't go, you can't leave me now!" He stumbled to his feet, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness even as he wondered how it could exist, for he had not been kneeling very long.

But his father only smiled sadly, his features blurring. "I'm sorry, son...my time is up. Do what your heart tells you to do with your new freedom. Never forget what I've told you. Never forget the example you must set." With those final words he faded completely away, and beyond where he had stood, Wolf was startled to see there was now only one passage through the hedges. The way to Virginia was clear.

For what seemed a long time he wept, then whimpered, then howled. When he finally regained his composure and thought to check the pain that had been throbbing in his chest, he was stunned to find it had not only passed, it had been replaced by relief, a buoyancy, a happiness he had not felt in what seemed ages. He felt like running, leaping for joy.

And that was what he did, as he recovered his balance and began a fast walk, then a leaping sprint into the mist of the hedgerows. Faster he went, ever in pursuit of Virginia. For he knew, with the certainty of dreams, that all of his despair and horror had been worth it, they had given him release. A long road lay ahead with Carmine and the rest of the quest, but he had hope now. His chains had been loosed.

He was free. Free.

Holding onto one of the prickly hedges until the quaking had stopped, Virginia tried to slow her breathing to a reasonable level, keeping from hyperventilating by focusing on the danger to her baby. After five minutes she succeeded and pushed away from the hedge, looking around at where she had ended up.

She groaned aloud. She had been leaning on a solitary hedge, like a pillar, standing in the open center of a round intersection of hedgerows, with passages angling off in four directions. Each looked exactly the same as the others, with no indication of which route she should take. She was hopelessly lost.

Helplessly she turned around in a circle, wheeling from one hedgerow to another, but the layers of cloaking mist made it impossible to see far enough to gauge which path might be promising. She needed Wolf and his keen senses. Nevermind that it was his fault they had ended up here; she needed her Wolf.

Taking a deep breath, she called out toward the center of the valley. "Wolf!"

After what seemed like a long time, she heard his faint voice answer. "Coming!" It sounded as if he were on the opposite side of the maze. Wonderful.

Rubbing her forehead anxiously, Virginia took stock again. There had to be a way through this maze, no labyrinth was unsolvable and the May Queen had said she and Wolf would find their way back to each other. That is, if she was to be believed. Gritting her teeth, Virginia growled under her breath. No, she was not giving up. Snow White believed in her; it was time she believed in herself.

Focusing on the direction Wolf's voice had come from, she picked what she thought was the passage that would take her where she wanted to go and started down it, knowing she could not second-guess herself if she wanted to make any progress.

The light of the moon guided her steps, illuminating stray rocks, gleaming on each dewdrop until it resembled a tiny pearl, and making the fog scintillate in a silvery, opalescent blanket that roiled a few inches above the ground, like a pot preparing to boil over. It was quite unnerving and brought to mind the unpleasant image of being the newest ingredient in a giant's stew. In the distance, almost concealed by the mist, another sprite darted and flitted about. She shivered and rubbed her hands briskly over her arms.

Looking up past the tops of the yews, she saw that the moon's phase was currently somewhere between the half moon and the crescent. In a few days' time it would be the new moon, and there would only be another two weeks until Wolf would be under the call of the full bone-white orb. Luckily they had not much farther to go before they reached the Sixth Kingdom and the dragon, and they could therefore avoid the complications of Wolf's cycle while in dangerous territory, and with Red Riding Hood too temptingly close.

Assuming they escaped the maze in time.

For the next half hour Virginia threaded her way down one passage and up another, crisscrossing the valley several times. At first she made mistakes and found herself in dead ends, but then her sharp mind began to pick up on the pattern--every intersection she had to bear to the right--and soon she was striding along confidently. She was certain now that if she just kept her wits about her and didn't panic, she would meet Wolf in the middle of the maze.

But then, as she turned a corner, she found herself in another rondure, this one occupied by a flat expanse of moss-covered granite in the exact center, rather like the pedestal of a statue. Resting one hand on its cold surface, she noticed grooves worn into the stone, weathered runes whose meaning she could not fathom but which somehow gave her a faint sense of foreboding, of portentous significance. As she circled the rock, she became more and more disturbed...and then with a shock she realized the boulder was glowing in the moonlight, faintly pulsating. In fact it was coming from the runes.

Glancing warily around the rondure, she saw there were only two other exits--but both were on the same side, leading to the right. Which was she to choose? As she pondered, still somewhat distracted by the lustrous stone and its weird engravings, a stray, unrelated thought came to her. Although it seemed ridiculous, she was reminded once again of Led Zeppelin, this time of the lines that immediately followed those she had quoted before: Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run/ there's still time to change the road you're on. And the May Queen had said they must find themselves. Could these thoughts be connected?

"Could it be," she mused aloud, "that she wants us to do just that? To change our path so we can find ourselves again?"

"Yes." The soft, gentle voice came from behind her, eerily familiar. "That's exactly what she wants."

Not daring to breathe, Virginia slowly swung around. Standing beside the rune-scrolled boulder was a woman, dressed in a hooded riding cloak of green velvet, in the cut and style of the Fourth Kingdom, one she recognized from the mausoleum in Wendell's castle. Beneath it lay a gown of purple satin, and as the woman raised her chin so that the moonlight could spill in luminous streamers across her face, Virginia gasped. The auburn hair swept back severely from a countenance still serenely beautiful despite added age and weight, the green eyes, the crimson lips bearing a warm, loving smile...

"Mom?" Her heart thudded in her chest as she drank in every detail. It couldn't be, she was dead! She'd seen her die, she'd killed her herself! Her gut twisted in remorse.

Christine nodded gravely, catching up the hem of her cloak as she passed soundlessly through the grass. "Don't be so surprised, my daughter. Surely you have surmised, after meeting the undead Swamp Witch, that the barrier between life and death is much more tenuous and permeable here. I am dead, but I can still affect the living, especially in times of great need. My powers are limited--I am no fairy godmother--but by the largess of the May Queen, I was able to come to you now."

Virginia stared at her incredulously, the ball of one hand pressed to her temple. So many conflicting feelings welled up inside her, but at last the one that became predominant was anger. "You have, huh? And where were you all those years ago? Why didn't you come to me then? Why haven't you come to me till now?" She clenched her fists.

Her mother looked away, biting her lip. "I should have expected this..."

"Damn right, you should have!" Virginia snapped. "Did you really think you could come back now, after so much time, after what you did, after what you said, and I'd welcome you with open arms?"

Christine sighed. "No, I suppose not. But I really don't have the time--"

"Well, you'd better make time!" The determination Virginia felt burning inside would not be denied. She had waited fourteen years, had longed to embrace her, kiss her, cling to her--then to yell, to scream, to shake some sense into her mother for leaving her. The one slap she had delivered had not been nearly enough to adequately channel her emotions, even assuming the true impact of the blow had penetrated through the haze of the Wicked Stepmother's spell.

Which reminded her. "You clearly know who I am now, right?" Virginia narrowed her eyes.

Her mother, not a queen and no longer evil, nodded silently.

"Then tell me, Mom. Tell me what happened, tell me why you left me. Why you left Dad." She paused, gathering herself, and then swallowed hard. "Why you tried to kill me."

Christine let her cloak drop so as to bring her gloved hands together and wring them nervously. But finally, after another uncomfortable silence, she nodded again and drew back her hood to fully reveal her features. "All right. I will have to be as brief as possible, but I can see that you need this...that you can't move on and do what is required of you until you learn the truth. And at any rate, my mission here will be much easier if you know the past. We are much alike, Virginia."

Virginia snorted sarcastically, but there was something compelling about her mother's words that made her falter. What if she was right? She had been noticing some disturbing similarities recently...

Some of her confusion and wariness must have shown on her face, for her mother gestured at the boulder. "Sit down, Virginia, and I'll explain."

Both of them moved to seat themselves on the cold granite, the light of the moon and the effulgence given off by the runes providing a stark, frigid illumination that banished all shadows. As she settled into place, Christine took on a ghastly pallor, as if bathed by the footlights of a stage. Indeed, she was on display now for Virginia, who gave her undivided attention as she waited for the explanation so long in coming. The quest, Wolf, Red Riding Hood, it all receded into the background, replaced by impatience...and fear. Did she really want to know?

It was too late to turn back now, for Christine had collected her thoughts and begun to speak. "Virginia, in order to understand what happened, you have to understand something about your grandmother, and about me. I was raised to be part of the high-society world, to believe that was where I belonged. It was my due, my portion. Every day my mother would regale me with tales of the grand parties, the adulation, the power and glamour; I was never allowed to forget that I was my mother's dream, her chance at greatness. And I wanted it, oh how I wanted it!" Her hands clenched, and an unholy joy burned in her eyes. But after a few moments, the light faded, replaced by emptiness...sadness...loneliness. "Yet one thing always held me back...secretly, I doubted myself. I did not believe I could ever succeed. I would never live up to my mother's fantasies. How could anyone? And the more pressure she placed on me, the more I feared my failure. Eventually it got to the point that I almost hated her, and by the time I was seventeen I was in open rebellion of her. I was beautiful, sophisticated, proud, and determined...but it was all a mask, Virginia. Inside I was screaming for freedom, screaming to escape the walls closing in around me. I wanted to be myself, I wanted to make my own choices. I still desired riches, prestige, and glory--that was too ingrained into me by my mother. But I wanted them on my own terms.

"And then I met Tony."

Her mother's face, which had been drawn taut with a smoldering fury so familiar it made Virginia recoil instinctively, now relaxed, becoming gentle, flawlessly soft...happy. Her voice, bitter and broken by despair, turned dreamy now, far distant...with an ache that could never be satisfied. Despite herself, Virginia felt her heart melting; she could never recall her mother being like this before. Snatches of loving tenderness, words of kindness, touches of devotion, yes...those shone in her memories like sparkling jewels. But nothing like this, nothing so uninhibited, so vulnerable. For a fleeting moment she had a sense of what Christine had been like, all those years ago, during that magical courtship.

"I was attending a gala held at the exquisite Plaza Hotel, an obligatory cotillion for a debutante so insignificant that her name escapes me--all I recall is that I far outshone her. My mother was escorting me, showcasing me like a priceless painting for the edification of the elite, even as she pointed out each of the eligible bachelors she deemed worthy of me, the ones that deserved my notice. Her voice restrained me and held me captive more than any chains ever could. And then I saw him across the room, so young, so dashing, so handsome, wearing an expensive suit with the longest tails of any man there, and wearing it well. Mother followed my gaze, and instantly grabbed my arm. She told me he was the son of the aging Frederic Lewis and de facto president of Lewis Plastics, a rapidly growing company based in Chicago. But she showed only contempt when she spoke of him, calling him nouveau riche, a poseur with no true pedigree, not of the great New York families. He was not born to his prosperity as I had been, for his father had begun his business from scratch, building it from the poorest of origins, and the son did not even possess the wherewithal and intellect necessary for his position. I was to have nothing to do with him."

Christine smiled then, sly and self-congratulatory. "But her words did not have the intended effect. In fact, they drove me toward Tony all the more. Her disapproval made him even more attractive to my rebellious heart, and it would be even more satisfying, I concluded, if I were to find the power and wealth I craved with him. So I demanded she let go of me and pulled free, approaching Tony and asking him to dance." She chuckled softly, stroking her fingers idly along one of the runes. "I think she would have disowned me for that simple act alone, if she had not been afraid of how it would look to her friends. Instead she fumed and glared at me, but I ignored her. Tony was everything I'd dreamed of, all the more because I had chosen him myself. And I learned as I talked to him that night that he was not only monied, and on the cusp of financial success--his father was quite ill, and soon the company would be his--but he was also a genuinely kind, devoted, and loving man. Nothing like the obnoxious snobs my mother preferred, the ones who believed themselves great by virtue of their names alone. Tony could provide for me, protect me, give me everything I desired--but he was also worthwhile, someone I could love. And I decided then and there that he would be mine."

Virginia frowned, shifting uncomfortably on the stone. Suddenly the story didn't seem romantic anymore, but selfish and possessive--more so because she was certain her father had not known of any of these designs when he had become smitten with her mother. It seemed reminiscent of the arrogance and pride her mother had displayed as the Evil Queen. With a sinking sensation in her heart, she suspected that the Wicked Stepmother had not had a great deal of persuading and enchanting to do to convince her mother to do her bidding...that her mother had not changed as greatly as she wanted to believe.

As if reading her thoughts, Christine sighed, and her expression altered to one of regret. "I know what you must be thinking, Virginia. You think I was only a conceited, calculating golddigger. And you may be right to think so; it was how I was raised. But my dear, I did truly love your father. In fact I still do. He fulfilled me in every way I could be fulfilled. I only realize now how foolish and vain I was to throw everything I had with him away." Tears gleamed in her vibrant eyes, but she did not move to wipe them away. "The next time you see him, will you tell him that for me? Tell him I will always cherish the years we had together...that I will always love him, and think fondly of him. I would tell him myself, but I am not certain when or if I will have the chance..." She looked away.

Virginia could barely reply, choked up by her own soft sobs as a great longing, a futile need for what had been lost to return, threatened to swamp her. She reached out and took her mother's hands, flinched when she realized she could touch them. "Oh, Mom...if you loved him so much, why did you leave?" She realized she was repeating her earlier question, but it could never be asked enough. It had been asked all her life, of her father and grandmother, of the silence of her bedroom at night, of God.

A breeze stirred her mother's hair, and tendrils of mist creeped up around them like shy kittens searching for attention. Her mother could not meet her eyes, instead studying her hands as if the answers could be found there. "It is...complicated. You won't like the answer, but I can't lie to you. Over the course of a few months I used my feminine wiles, which I was quite the expert at, to make Tony enamoured of me. It was easy, for he had already half fallen in love with me that first night, and it helped that I was just as passionate for him. We married against my mother's objections, and I smugly moved out of her mansion, free of her forever I thought, to live in a Fifth Avenue penthouse your father bought for us both. His father died, leaving the entire company to him as had been expected, and everything was perfect for the first year." She bit her lip. "Then I became pregnant."

Suddenly the sadness fled, replaced by shock and anger. "What? Are you saying it's my fault you left?" Virginia gripped the moss until it began to rip free of the rock.

Christine hurriedly shook her head. "No! That's not what I mean. Your birth was the start of the problems, yes, but it wasn't you, it was my reaction to it. It was an accident, I forgot to take the pill one month, and that was enough. I wasn't ready to be a mother, I was far too young and immature. I didn't even want a child. But your father was so happy, and Mother was livid, she wanted me to have an abortion to eliminate the colossal mistake. I was no longer pristine, and now I was even further ensconced in a marriage she despised. She was against it...and so I chose to keep you out of spite to her. It was a terrible reason to bring you into the world."

When Virginia spoke next, it was in a whisper. "But...you did love me, didn't you?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "When you were born, and placed in my arms, I loved you. I loved you the minute I saw you, and it never faded. In fact, I know you won't believe this, but it was out of love that I made the choices I did."

Virginia's heart grew cold. How could she say such a thing? Abandonment and attempted murder had nothing at all to do with love, and never could no matter how her mother rationalized it. "You're right, I don't believe it."

Letting the matter drop--wisely, Virginia felt--Christine gazed at her for a long moment before returning to her tale. "In any case, once you were born things changed. At first all was well. I took care of you, I read all the right books, I was determined to be the best mother I could be for you. I lavished all sorts of expensive and educational toys on you. I did everything my mother had done for me, finding you the most qualified nanny, the most exclusive play-groups. I made certain our cook served you only the most nutritious and recommended baby food. I thought this was the way to raise you, I had not the slightest idea what true motherhood was like. Delegating others to do it for me seemed natural. But then, inexplicably, I developed postpartum depression. My doctor had warned me of it, and I had a therapist; in fact I'd been seeing one ever since I was a teenager. I was already on assorted medications...Ritalin, Prozac...I wasn't well, Virginia. Up to this point it had been under control, contained. Now...now nothing seemed to work. The doctor told Tony and me that it would pass, but it didn't.

"And then calamity struck. Tony went out on a limb, investing all of his company's stock in those ridiculous bouncy castles!" Her eyes flashed. "I tried to tell him not to do it, but he never listened to me when it came to business. He was convinced it was a golden opportunity. And to be fair, many years later bouncy castles became quite popular. But by then it was too late...the market had already plummeted, robbing us of all our wealth. The company went bankrupt and folded, and we were forced to dismiss our servants, sell our cars, our furniture, our penthouse...everything." A strange, detached calm swept over her mother's face. "I would remain with you and your father for six years following...but in my heart I had already left you."

Horrified, Virginia leaped to her feet. "Just because Dad wasn't rich anymore, you left us?!?" She trembled with her emotion, unable to find a way to release it.

The calm facade shattered, and Christine too rose, an obscure pain in her eyes. For the first time, she seemed unable to find the words. "You...you don't understand, Virginia! I...I...I did love you...I did...but..." She took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "Surely you can see why this would affect me so deeply. I had lived with money all of my life. I didn't know any other way to live--I didn't even think I could live without it! I was completely at a loss...I was paralyzed! I had no notion how those without great wealth lived, how could I? I had always held myself above them. I suppose you could say I deserved this culture shock. The problem was, I wasn't strong enough to withstand it. I cracked, Virginia. No one could help me; Tony was so distraught himself over ruining his life and mine that he barely noticed anyone around him. By the time he realized how much I had fallen apart, it was too late. And I wouldn't let him in...I couldn't. I had always been under my mother's thumb, and I saw any attempt to reach me as a chance for me to be weak again, to be controlled. Mother was of no use, all she could do was reiterate over and over how she had told me so, how she had known Tony's fortunes wouldn't last. All I could think was that I had failed. Failed her, myself, you..."

To Virginia's astonishment, her mother collapsed on the stone, weeping bitterly. At once she knew she was witnessing something no one else had ever seen, her mother letting down her guard unconditionally. Forgetting her fury of just minutes before, she rushed to Christine and embraced her as tightly as she could. "No! How could you think that, Mom? It wasn't your fault Dad lost everything...you didn't fail anybody! Who cares what Grandma thought? She doesn't live in the real world anyway."

Christine sniffled and buried her face in Virginia's shoulder, her voice muffled. "No...no, you still don't see." Pulling back, she searched her dress vainly for a handkerchief until Virginia handed her one. Blowing her nose and seeming so far removed from the self-assured and confident woman she had always been, she took Virginia's hand. "Remember what I told you. I was insecure, afraid, uncertain. I let myself be guided by my mother for so long because I knew nothing else to do, I needed someone to take care of me. That was why I was so upset over your conception. On the surface I claimed I had better things to do with my time, that I had no need for a child, but inside I knew that I could not take care of another person, a new life. Not that I could not love a child, but that I was not strong enough to raise one, to give it everything it deserved. How could I be, when I could not even take care of myself?" She wiped her eyes and squeezed Virginia's hand. "I would like to think that given time, I could have believed in myself, that I could have fought my insecurity, escaped my depression, and been the mother you needed. But we'll never know, my darling, because the loss of everything I knew ruined any chance. You'll think this pathetic, but I even somehow harbored the belief that I was indeed to blame, that if I had not been so attached to wealth Tony would never have made such an investment to finance my greed. That my marrying him for the wrong reasons had come back to haunt me, to teach me a lesson I was not willing or able to learn."

Virginia stared at her mother in disbelief. The words were different, yet they held the same spirit. The doubt, the fear, the anxiety, the insecurity...they all reflected her own worries about herself, about her impending motherhood. Now she understood what her mother had meant about them being alike. She had always thought she had inherited her low self-esteem from Tony, from the wishy-washy attitude best exhibited in the way he always used to fawn when Mr. Murray was around. But in their journey through the Fourth Kingdom he had proven her wrong, eventually showing a fierceness and determination she'd never known was there, the same determination that had enabled him to go to work every day of her life and take care of her mostly by himself. No, she saw now that her tendency to doubt herself came from her mother.

But Christine was continuing, her voice dull and monotonous. "Even in attempting to take responsibility for what had happened, I was selfish, thinking only of myself and what had been done to me. And I did not even truly know what responsibility was. I went through the motions, but that was all. When we moved into our new home, a town house on East Seventy-third, I was devastated. Your father had to take employment as a bellhop at the Carlyle Hotel, and as a night watchman at the Metropolitan, just to make ends meet, and I had to become a housewife. For me it was denigrating, being reduced to this. I would cry myself to sleep every night. And during the day, when I wasn't cleaning or burning the food or floundering about trying to keep up with you, I would go into my room, and look at myself in the mirror. I'd take out one of my fancy dresses, which I had insisted we keep, and hold it up to cover my dirty apron. And I'd dream of having it all back again somehow. I wasn't suited to such a life, yet there I was trapped in it. I wish I knew then what I know now...that hard work builds character, and that my fixation on all my trappings and riches could never truly make me happy."

She folded her hands in her lap and began twisting the handkerchief back and forth, rhythmically, obsessively. "But I refused to grow up. All I could see was that I was not happy where I was. Your father and I had many arguments. We fought about my having to go shopping in a corner grocery store when we should be having caviar and wine. We fought about there being no money to buy a dress I wanted. We fought about the parties I could no longer attend. We even fought about your education when you were old enough. I had wanted you to go to boarding school, then finishing school, just as I had. But we couldn't afford it, and no headmistress would dare accept you after viewing your application. So I managed to turn my concern for your future into another mark against me in society." Sarcasm and self-loathing twisted her lips.

"Eventually I had to find ways to alleviate my depression. I tried going to parties in the dresses I still owned, however gauche it might be not to match the current fashions. But no one accepted me anymore...not only had I lost my riches, but Mother had lost a great deal as well gambling on horse races, and had to move to Gramercy Park. I was seen as following in her footsteps...and instead of taking joy in her being humbled, I despaired at losing my only hope for returning to the elite. The festivities no longer held the attraction they once had...it was all so stale and empty when I remembered what I had to go back to at home, what I would never escape. So then...then I resorted to love affairs to find my happiness." Christine flicked her eyes to Virginia, who stood in stoic silence, then flushed in shame. "At first I tried to hide it from your father, but then I stopped caring. He was the one who had cost us our livelihood, and he was the one who pressured me to have you, thereby stealing away all my free time and energy. So he didn't matter anymore, only my endless search for another man to satisfy me. But even that died... At last I begged my therapist for help, and he prescribed tranquilizers...and amphetamines." She paused. "You do know what those are?"

Virginia nodded weakly, a cold and sickening mass seeming to form in her stomach. She remembered what her father had told her in Wilhelm Grimm's cell about her mother's sickness and knew what was coming next. "Yeah...uppers."

Christine made a distasteful face at the slang term--as if it mattered what word Virginia used? They were just as dangerous and addictive, whatever the name. "Then you can guess what happened to me. I became dependent on them...I needed them to maintain my happiness, to keep from slashing my wrists, to stay sane. But that was a lost cause, my mind kept slipping anyway...some days I barely even knew who I was or where I was. I vaguely remember a day when your father came home and had to put out a grease fire in the kitchen, and he found me vacuuming the same patch of carpet in the living room over and over." Rubbing her forehead, she closed her eyes for a minute or two. Virginia could only sit down slowly on the boulder and listen in despair.

"He always hoped I would get better, you know," her mother said at last. "And so did I. Not just for me anymore, but also for you. I was finally thinking of someone else...too little, too late. I wanted to protect you. That was why I would come into your room at night and rub my fur coat against your cheek...to let you know there was always someone who would keep you safe." Her face gradually crumpled. "But I even managed to subvert that desire...into trying to drown you...to protect you...from me."

Virginia abruptly stood up again, her hands rising to clutch her head. "What?!? What do you mean?" It couldn't be true, she couldn't be hearing this...

Her mother began to cry again, openly and unceasingly. "I...I didn't know what else to do...all my fears had come true, I had failed and become a worthless human being in my own eyes. I would never have the life I deserved, or be able to give you the life you deserved. My love for you didn't seem enough. You would only suffer because of my mistakes...marrying Tony, having you, not being strong enough to survive hardship...it all had denied you your birthright. I was so utterly unstable that I convinced myself I was the worst possible mother you could have. And worse...I believed you would be better off dead than with me as a mother." Her final words came out with a forcefulness and passion that made Virginia shudder. "That was why I tried to kill you that night, Virginia...out of a twisted, misguided love, I wanted to save you from what I had become, and what I had been, and what I would always be. You deserved better than me...so much better...you were so special, my little girl..."

Breathing shallowly, Virginia felt as if her eyes were on the verge of bulging from their sockets. Shaking her head, slowly at first, then faster, she retreated yet farther back against the rock, sitting down and moaning softly. "No...no, it can't be..." But it was. All of this time, she had thought she was the one who failed, the one who had fallen short of her mother's dreams, that her mother had left her because she was not worth wanting. Yet she had had it backwards. It was not she. It was her mother. Her mother had been the failure, the weak one, through no fault of her own...through upbringing, naivete, depression, madness. She had been wanted; her mother had simply not been able to believe in her own right to be loved. She had only been abandoned because her mother had first abandoned herself.

As she struggled to come to grips with this revelation, Christine mumbled almost incoherently. "But your father...he came...home...I tried to explain...but there was no excuse, and the drugs...they..." She shook herself and began dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I just ran. I had to get away...from him, from you, from what I had done, from myself. I had nowhere to go, so I ran into the park. I couldn't believe any of it...what had seemed to make perfect sense before was now the most awful thing I could contemplate. What I would have done on my own, I'll never know. Perhaps I would have checked myself into a hospital, or a mental institution. Perhaps I could have been treated. But instead...I heard a voice, asking if I was lost, and when I looked up, I saw...the mirror. And her. I thought I was hallucinating. If only I had been. The Wicked Stepmother offered me freedom from my pain. It sounded so wonderful that I took her hand..."

Trembling, Virginia took her mother's hand herself and held it to her cheek, as if she could intercede and prevent that deadly clasp. Closing her eyes, she wished fervently that she could change the past. It was true that if her mother had never come to the Kingdoms, she herself would never have met Wolf, or found something to believe in again. But so many would have been spared suffering...Wendell and his family, herself and Tony and her mother...

"Oh, Mom...I wish you could have been happy. We loved you so much...we would have forgiven you eventually, if you'd gotten help." Her voice broke.

Christine only looked at her sadly. "And how long would it have been until the next episode? No, even with all the heartache it caused, this way was for the best. It was my destiny. And it did end my pain. The Stepmother, you see, passed me through the Lethe mirror so that I forgot who I was. That was why I never returned to you. And then she used her magic to heal my broken mind. My instability had made me susceptible to her, but it also made me unpredictable. She could not chance the threat that I would break free of her hold. So she healed me, and my soul was hers." She paused. "As yours might be as well, if you do not heed me."

Virginia nearly fell off the rock. "You can't be serious!"

"I am. It is why I am here." Her mother had recovered her composure somewhat, and as she wiped away the last of her tears, her back straightened and she gazed at Virginia with a stern purpose. "The Swamp Witch still lives, and seeks another successor. It could be you, and the possibility grows stronger as you become more and more like me. You know now that we share the same insecurity...the same fear of failure. These are tools the Stepmother can use against you. She who doubts herself will do anything to prove her worth...be it good or evil. You also have my bent to revenge. Yours is against the House of Red. Mine was for the House of White. Once I believed the witch's tale, which did not take much persuasion in the state I was in, I was only too glad to help. The tale of Snow White had always seemed to represent for me what I could not have, the Happy Ever After of fairy tales. It seemed only right to me that I gain the power and riches for which I had always yearned by taking them from the House of White. And Wendell had not earned his title or nobility, he deserved to be my victim."

Christine raised her hand to forestall Virginia's protest. "I say this only to show you how easily my emotions were swayed to the Stepmother's cause. You too are in danger of this. You think to save the wolves, and to restore Wolf's good name. But in carrying out a vendetta against Red Riding Hood, you are giving in to the hatred that the Stepmother can use. You have already shown your abilities with magic...and your ability to be tempted." She narrowed her eyes, and Virginia quailed as she realized her mother knew about the Seeking mirror. "I do not wish to see you lose yourself to her, as I did."

Sliding to the ground, Virginia latched onto her mother's gown, giving in to her most primal desire, to cling to her mother and seek her protection. "No...no! Mom, what do I have to do?"

"You must release your insecurity...give it up. Then she will have no power over you. Believe in yourself, and she will not be able to exploit you." Her mother gazed down at her penetratingly, her hair set aglow by the moonlight to form a silvery halo. "And then you will also succeed in your quest. For only by freeing yourself of your insecurity can you gain the dragon's aid, and change the path Red Riding Hood treads. They too must be freed."

Words similar to these flowed through Virginia's mind, words she only remembered now... Wendell and your father are not the only ones who must be freed... Do not be fooled by appearances. Beauty conceals hate, and ugliness conceals love, but both are plagued by insecurity. Show them the way, and the rest will fall into place... She blinked in surprise. "Is that what Snow White meant...?"

Christine nodded. "It is. Only by freeing the dragon from his chains, and Carmine from hers, will you save the Kingdoms. When the dragon believes in himself, he will do what must be done to ensure there will be a future. And when Red Riding Hood can admit that she is wrong, she will work to change that future. It all depends on you...on your example." She ran her gloved fingers over Virginia's chin. "It will be difficult, but I know you can succeed. I am proud of you for what you have done thus far. I know you will make the right choice."

Stunned, Virginia sat back on her haunches and wrestled with all of the implications...the two paths ahead of her, and the consequences that would follow from each. But arching over it all was the one fact that overwhelmed her with its magnitude. Her mother believed in her, and was proud of her. Her mother, whom she had always thought cared nothing for her and did not want her. If her mother could feel this way, then so could she.

Closing her eyes, she thought of everything that she possibly could to bolster her confidence and courage: her father in the cave on Dragon Mountain, saying they could never have gotten that far without her; the earnest expression on Wendell's face as he gave her Snow White's rose, saying he knew not how to thank her for what she had done; Wolf, his handsome face bathed by the light of the fire in the Seven Dwarves' cottage, murmuring she must do something great with her life; the Gypsy Queen, intoning the awed pronouncement that she had a destiny stretching way back in time.

Then she released them, all her fears and insecurities about herself.

With a sharp cry of pain she felt something leave her chest, and when she opened her eyes, a ball of mist twirled and churned before her eyes, drifting soundlessly up to land in her mother's hand, where it was absorbed silently.

"Now, Virginia." Christine smiled warmly, relievedly, her tears vanished into excitement. "Now, I am happy. Your quest is now assured success. And it is all because of the strength you have in your heart. And to think you would not be here if my insane plan had reached its conclusion. It is the first time I am glad of a failure I made." A small wry smile appeared on her lips. Then she lowered her eyes to Virginia's swollen stomach. "But now that failure has been turned into a victory, for I know that even once I am gone, you will carry on as the mother I could never be, the mother you were destined to be."

Speechless, Virginia remained unmoving on the dewy ground until her mother rose from the rock and stepped back, lifting her hood into place once more. "Wait...that's it? You tell me all that, you take away my insecurity, and then you just leave?"

"I'm sorry, my darling." Her mother's image was becoming transparent. "I have stayed long beyond my allotted time. I can only hope you will use wisely what I have told you...and that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and no longer think ill of me. I know there is no excuse for what I did, but at least now you can be certain of one thing. That I love you...and am proud of the woman you have become. The woman who saved me from myself...and found her own faith again."

The glow of the boulder grew brighter, washing out Christine's figure until it vanished altogether, but her voice lingered. "Now you have changed the road you're on..."

When Virginia's eyes cleared of the dazzling light, she blinked in astonishment. Now there was only one passage through the hedges leading out of the rondure. Slowly she rose to her feet and gazed around, trying to combat the throb of pain inside her, stronger than the strange sense of loss she felt at being deprived of the insecurity that had been her companion for so long. As she glanced at the stone, she saw her handkerchief lying alone and forlorn and picked it up. It was still wet with her mother's tears.

She pressed the handkerchief to her bosom. "Thanks, Mom..."

Somewhere in the maze, much closer than before, she heard a voice calling. "Virginia?"

"Wolf?" Overcome by emotions to which she could not put a name, with only an aching love for her mate clearly identifiable, she hurried down the passage, turning a corner and racing along, faster and faster, toward where her instincts told her to go. After ten minutes, she whirled around another zigzagging bend and emerged in another rondure, at least three times the size of the first and filled with surging mist. She knew at once it was the center of the maze.

At the far side she saw movement, a figure...a figure who scratched at his temple.

She ran toward him.

Red Riding Hood III kicked and struggled futilely on the ground, shrieking helplessly, her back pressed into a sharp rock that dug painfully into her flesh, even through her riding dress. With her bonds still restraining her wrists and ankles, she felt rather like a serpent or a worm slithering about, an image that made her cry out in impotent rage. No royal should ever be treated so improperly, so brutally! That she was reduced to squirming in the dirt was intolerable; truly her captors were beasts, barbarians.

As soon as the tremors had stopped and the ground was stable again, she sat up and looked around. She was alone, in between two hedges that seemed to extend infinitely into the distance. There was no sign of Wolf or the Lady Virginia, thank goodness, nor that incompetent Piper who had dropped her. Yet she quickly ascertained the May Queen had trapped her in a cunning maze, and even were she not a captive, she could not effect an escape in this condition.

Very well. First things first. Scouting about, she soon located the stone that had been such a literal pain in her side. Frowning, she wriggled to her knees and considered the jagged piece of slate before crouching down and briskly chafing her ropes against it. After a few minutes the fibers parted, freeing her hands. Rearranging herself to place her feet over the rock required some maneuvering that was most degrading, but luckily there was no one to see. Soon her feet were released, and she was free at last.

Next on the agenda was finding a way out of this maze, but Carmine soon discovered that this would be a much more difficult task. As she hurried down the passage and came upon an intersection, she paused in a pool of moonlight and listened intently. In the distance she could hear both Wolf and Virginia calling out to one another, and their voices sounded quite faint and indistinct. Apparently she was the farthest away from the center and had the farthest to go. The symbolism of this was not lost on her, and she curled her lip in contempt.

Catching up her skirt, she picked her way through the swirling mist, her blood boiling. This was intolerable! She should be safe and warm in her castle, surrounded by the comforts of regality, waited on by countless servants, sleeping on silk sheets and dining on the most expensive and delicious meals. Instead she was here, cold and alone, unprotected, at the mercy of her enemies and strange magic she barely understood. All she could hope was that she could find her way clear of the labyrinth and escape back to Incarnadine before her captors could find her.

For close to half an hour she threaded the maze, her cogent mind easily catching on to the pattern, but her progress was slowed by what she considered cheating on the part of the May Queen--every now and then she would hear a rustling behind her and turn only to see another hedge preventing her from retreating if she made a mistake. Sometimes new openings would materialize in front of her as well. At first she ignored the obvious invitations, choosing other paths, but those somehow led invariably to dead ends. Cursing under her breath, she at last gave in to the maze's will and went where she was directed to go.

"When I get free of this trap," she muttered to herself, "I shall make Wolf suffer for this." It felt good to place the blame on him, as it had for the past thirteen years, as it had ever since Cerise's death...since Cerise had taken her own life, proclaiming that her sister had driven her to it.

No! That was not true, it could not be true, it would never be true. She refused to accept it, for that would mean something so terrible, so impossible, that she simply could not face it. No, her sister had been wrong, deluded by her own emotions, that was all. She had woven a fabric of happiness about herself as weak and fragile as a spiderweb, for wolves could not love. Nevermind the way Wolf had apologized to Virginia; nevermind the genuine pain she had seen in his eyes as he silenced her, the devotion she had witnessed to his mate and unborn mongrel child. It was all an act, a pretense for her benefit and Virginia's, to fool them and conceal his true unbridled lusts so that he could ravish them with impunity. The savagery, the cruelty, the arrogance, the violence he had displayed in her boudoir and in the journey since, that was the real Wolf. The love and gentleness, those were not a part of him, they could not be. They could not be.

Screaming in outrage at her own traitorous thoughts, Red Riding Hood III flung herself blindly around the next corner, not even paying attention to her surroundings--as if she could cast away her doubts and uncertainties and guilt and leave them behind in the confusing angles and winding courses of the maze.

After a time, she recovered enough presence of mind to observe where she was. With frightening clarity she realized she had been choosing passages at random, and had no idea of her location. She was lost. Fool, fool, ten times a fool!

In the hedgerow ahead, a patch of moonlight shone through a side opening, scintillating on the swirling mist and bisecting the passage with a pallid rectangle bathing the opposite hedge. Somehow she did not trust it; she could not see what lay out of sight, what might be waiting for her... Fiddling nervously with her rings, she sidled along the hedge until she was almost to the turning, where she paused and took a deep breath. She was a great queen; she had no cause to be afraid, or at least to show it. Rising to her full height, she stepped boldly into the light.

It was an arbor, the top of the passage enclosed by intertwining branches of yew to form a trellis-like structure, shutting away almost all light. The narrow pathway, sheltered and hidden from any intrusion, extended for thirty meters or so, rather like the aisle to her throne. Except for a few breaks in the branches, the only light came from the far end. The rest lay in foggy darkness.

Even more filled with dread, Carmine crossed the threshold of the arbor, reluctant to leave the comforting moonlight. Every nerve tingled, warning her of her grave error in judgment, but she continued on, somehow drawn toward what might be found beyond. She had only gone a few more steps when a swift rustling came from behind her. Horrified, she turned to see the hedge had closed, sealing her off. Now there was no way to go but forward.

Looking back that way, she was somehow not surprised to see a figure appear, blocking out the light. She could tell at once by the physique and shapeliness that it was a woman, but the height ruled out Lady Virginia, and it was far too human in its curves to be the May Queen--not to mention the lack of the telltale fragrance of hawthorn, and the fact that this woman wore a long, opulent dress of ancient design. But who else could be in the maze with her? A summoning of magic, she rapidly concluded, and her breathing quickened.

Proceeding tremulously down the arbor, the queen tugged her riding cloak tighter as the biting chill of the air seemed to increase. When she was halfway along the passage between the yews, she stopped again and called out imperiously. "Who are you, and why do you obstruct my path?"

"You know very well who I am, if you search your heart." The voice was crisp, no-nonsense. It was also shockingly familiar. "But come closer so I may speak to you, and then there will be no doubts."

Keeping her eyes riveted on the mysterious woman, Carmine complied, passing soundlessly down the cloistered passage as the wind set the branches overhead to creaking eerily. As she at last reached the end of the arbor, she peered searchingly at the lady's downturned face, concealed by shadows and thick, glorious curls of the richest red framing rosy cheeks and a wholesome complexion more suited to a milkmaid than a lady of station. Her breath caught in her throat. No. It could not be. But it was, there was no denying it, especially once the woman lifted her chin and the hair fell away to unveil emerald eyes of such intensity and wisdom. And the dress she wore matched precisely one Carmine had seen every day of her reign, in a portrait hung within her own chambers at the palace. Even the magnificent mane of hair spilling down well below the woman's hips marked who she was.

It was her grandmother, Red Riding Hood the First.

Awed and overjoyed, Carmine could barely speak. Her grandmother had died when she was five, so she had not known her very long or very well, but she remembered vividly what a strong-willed, formidable woman she had been. She recalled the stories told on her grandmother's lap, tales of the history of the Nine Kingdoms--how the original Naked Emperor had in his vanity been conned by two wily tailors into wearing nothing at all, after he rejected all their previous designs; how Snow White had been poisoned with the magic apple her jealous stepmother had tricked her into eating; how a lost glass slipper had made Cinderella the scullery maid into the queen she was destined to be. Most of all, Carmine recalled the oft-told tale of Old Grey and the woodsman, and how her grandmother had escaped the terrible fate of being devoured. It was that very story that had convinced her of the true terror and bestiality of wolves.

She owed everything to her grandmother--her throne, her kingdom, her policies and laws, her view of the world. And now she was here before her.

"Grandmother!" she cried, throwing dignity to the wind and rushing to her side, embracing her tightly. "I can't believe it...I simply cannot...this is like a dream come true!" Pulling back, she clasped her grandmother's hands. "Please, tell me you are here to help me, that you can rescue me from these terrible conditions! I cannot stand it a moment longer!"

Red Riding Hood gazed at her wordlessly, then shook her head. "I am afraid not, my child. I am here to help you, yes...but I have no magic, no miraculous intervention on your behalf that I can apply. Being one of the Five Women Who Changed History does not entitle me to special powers. I am only a woman, Carmine. A woman who knows what she wants and works to achieve it. A woman who uses her strength to affect change in the world. This is what I have done, and what you have done as well. And now I am here to ensure that the changes you bring are the ones that will save the Kingdoms, rather than destroy them."

Carmine froze, her blood turning to ice in her veins. Disregarding the term "child", a term she accepted from her grandmother when she would accept it from no other, she instead focused on the spirit's affirmed purpose. With a wary mind and quaking heart, she knew at once that Red Riding Hood brought tidings she did not want to hear...words that would be painful and difficult to accept. Stepping back slowly, she frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my dear, that you are standing on the brink of great challenges and choices." Red Riding Hood's expression was sympathetic, yet stern. "Much is set before you, and you must not falter, you must not ignore your responsibilities and duties, to yourself or your realm, or you will place everyone in grave peril."

Indignation and ire gradually replaced worry and uncertainty. This was her ancestress, founder of the House of Red, yet she did not have the right to make judgments and assumptions concerning her descendants! Narrowing her eyes, Carmine snapped, "What makes you think that is what I am about, Grandmother? I have never abrogated my responsibilities, and never shall. I am frankly insulted you would think otherwise."

Red Riding Hood sighed and gave her a steady look. "Yet you are disavowing your duties at this very moment, Granddaughter. You have been doing so for years...ever since the death of your sister. Ever since you began your campaign against wolves." The scorn in her voice was palpable.

Cold. Bitter, unwavering, pervasive cold, embedded in the core of her bones. That was what Carmine felt. She could not believe it. It simply was not possible. Her own grandmother, victim of a wolf attack herself so many years ago, now chastising her for enforcing laws against the beasts. Her dream had become a nightmare. From Wolf or the Lady Virginia, she could expect this. But from Red Riding Hood? She would never say such things...

A dark and disturbing thought insinuated itself into her mind. What if this were not her grandmother after all? What if it were only a construct of the May Queen's magic? The May Queen was long known to be the adversary of the Ice Queen. If the quest of her captors was genuine, it might well be that the nature spirit would go to any lengths to guarantee their success--even impersonating her grandmother in order to sway her to their cause, to no longer impede their progress. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that this was not real, it was merely an illusion. She closed her eyes and concentrated, willing the false facade away.

"There's no use in trying to banish me. It won't work; I am real, and will not leave until you have heard what I have to say." Her grandmother's voice was chiding, bold, and disapproving. Exactly as she remembered it. Could the May Queen's magic be that adept?

Opening her eyes, she squinted at Red Riding Hood, then finally gave up in disgust, crossing her arms violently across her chest. She knew she was pouting but couldn't help it. It would have made things so much easier if this had not been real. Now instead she had to face the possibility that her grandmother truly was disappointed in her...that she was indeed restless in her grave as the Lady Virginia had claimed.

Somehow Red Riding Hood seemed to read her mind. "I'm not disappointed in you, my dear, as much as I am disappointed in myself."

Carmine was stunned. "What? How can you say such a thing? You have done nothing wrong, you were a great queen and shaper of history! My mother and I modeled ourselves exactly on your reign, that is how we have come to our present prosperity. That is why I cannot conceive how you can condemn my course of action with the wolves. You yourself taught us they were nothing but vicious, bloodthirsty monsters!"

"Exactly. That is where I made my mistake. That is where I failed you, and myself, and our Kingdom." Her grandmother's face was ashen, her eyes haunted and dull as she averted them. Suddenly she seemed less solid, more ghost-like, as if the prospect of failure were undermining the spell that held her here.

Feeling rather faint herself, as the blood drained from her face, the queen wished vainly for a place she could seat herself other than the cold, wet earth. But the arbor had opened into only another hedgerow crossing at right angles, with no rocks or fallen logs in sight. "I don't understand..."

Red Riding Hood raised her eyes again, remorseful and self-accusing. "Must I be blunt with you, Carmine? I was wrong. Scarlett was wrong. And you are wrong. All of us, from the beginning, were wrong about wolves. They are not evil, or monstrous beasts, or cannibalistic demons of the night. They have hearts, and feelings, and intellect the same as we do...in fact they often surpass us. We have feared and hated them for what we believe they can do...but it was all lies. And what little was true only applied to rogues, renegades, criminals, the same sorts of nasty elements found within our own society." Her voice shook as she repeated herself. "We were wrong..."

Staggering back, Carmine did not know whether to cover her ears, or scream, or run past her grandmother deeper into the maze. Only the weakness in her knees prevented her from choosing the latter course. "What?!? No! No, that cannot be true! Old Grey, consider what he did to your grandmother, to you! He proves the vile treachery of wolves!"

The expression on Red Riding Hood's face, a blending of reproach, guilt, and pity, shook Carmine. "Is that the extent of your experience? Did I raise a daughter and granddaughter so narrow-minded as to base their entire opinion of a species on one individual case of violence and deception? If so, then I am even more to blame for all the suffering and death than I knew." Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly the great queen no longer seemed regal and self-assured. She seemed to have returned to the simple and frightened little girl named Ruby she had once been. "Old Grey was only one wolf among many, Carmine. Only one. You cannot punish every wolf for his misdeeds, you cannot appoint yourself judge, jury, and executioner in my name. Old Grey is long dead by my father-in-law's axeblade, and killing the entire population of wolves will never give you the justice you seek. He is dead, Carmine. Dead! Let it go..."

Too infuriated to speak--and too overcome by the remote possibility that her grandmother could be right, that all these years she had actually been murdering Old Grey and disguising it as justice for all humans--Carmine stood speechless. Yet Red Riding Hood did not relent, pressing her case. "What would you have done, Carmine, if the one who had killed my grandmother and tried to kill me had been an Elf? Would you have declared war on the Seventh Kingdom and attacked it when it appeared at dawn and dusk? Arrested Elves and stripped them of their wings? And what if it had been a farmer, or a tailor? Would all farmland be repossessed by the crown, would tailors' shops be outlawed?" Her grandmother was impassioned now, her cheeks flaming red with life and vitality, displaying the temper and determination for which she was legendary. "Who then would you be burning? And meanwhile, the wolves whom you so gleefully hate would live in peace, unmolested, simply by an accident of fate. Do you see? Your hatred is arbitrary, you have no basis for it."

Finally finding her voice, Carmine recovered her sense of poise and self-confidence, and as she replied her own temper began to flare. "No basis? No basis?!? What of the many wolf attacks there have been on livestock, on farms, on lonely forest roads? What of the murder trials?"

"Where do you expect wolves to find their meat when game is scarce?" her grandmother retorted. "As for those attacks and murder trials, very few of them were based on fact. Wolves have no need to stalk and kidnap children, let alone eat them. The vast majority of such cases were fabrication, the product of fear and hate in the common people, of exaggeration or mistaken identity or bald-faced lies by disgruntled farmers and trappers and avaricious townsmen seeking rewards for accusing their neighbors of crimes. It is the nature of the system, which is also my fault. I was so naive...I arranged it to run itself, assuming foolishly that the innate goodness and sense of justice in my people would serve as the only monitoring and self-policing it would need. It took me years to overcome my fear of wolves and my naivete. Eventually I developed the nerve to conduct research and studies on wolves, and visited wolven villages and packs, but by the time I realized my error and went to modify the system it was too late. The corruption and prejudice and hatred had already solidified, and I could change nothing. The only way I could undo the damage was to wipe out the bureaucracy altogether and start over. But when I suggested it, your mother removed me from the throne, assuming I had become senile in my old age." She paused at last to take a deep breath. "That is why it is now up to you to do what I could not."

Carmine's knees finally gave out, and she collapsed against one of the hedges, her riding hood falling back as she shook her head in horror. "How...how dare you...how can you make such a demand, Grandmother? Even were I to agree, the people would never accept it! And in any case, you must be mad to think I would ever change my policy against wolves. They are animals, filthy animals, and deserve nothing but our contempt!" Somehow it was very important to her that she not acknowledge wolves as more than animals. If she did, she would have to admit that they could feel human emotions, and that road was one she would not, could not travel.

Red Riding Hood rather looked as if she would slap her granddaughter, and Carmine instinctively lifted her hands to protect her face. But the former queen relaxed at last, although her fingers flexed suggestively. "The people would accept it if you introduced the reforms gradually, and if you accompanied them with proclamations, addresses to the public, and education packets. As to the wolves...what is so wrong with being an animal? I know that we, as humans, have always believed ourselves to be superior. But in studying the wolves I learned they have their own civilization, their own culture, their own magic, their own beliefs, their own dreams and hopes. In short, they are as deserving of respect as we are. We share this land with them, and we should treat them with courtesy. In addition, think of the assets they could bring to the Kingdom if they fought at our side rather than against us! Loyalty, bravery, nobility, honor...they defend their families to the death. We would do well to remember their example." A smoldering fury blazed in her grandmother's emerald eyes, and she realized at once the reference made--to Cerise and how Carmine had acquitted herself in that situation. She quailed.

"No, wolves are not filthy and vile creatures...they are vital to the ecology of the forest--we would be overrun by deer and rabbits if not for them. It is my fault you and your mother came to hate them. I led you astray with my own experiences, which were unique. I also led you to believe you were infallible, that you could never be wrong and so all must bend to your will. My insecurity as a new queen caused this. And so when I implemented my programs and laws, I sent the wrong message to everyone. I never intended for them to be so abused and misapplied. That was Scarlett's doing...she encouraged it, as you did, believing it was what I wished. And now your own insecurity is making you cling to your hatred." Red Riding Hood looked more forlorn and distraught than Carmine could ever remember.

But at the moment she did not care how tortured and guilt-ridden her grandmother's soul might be. Hearing Red Riding Hood praise wolves, and blame her own attitude on insecurity rather than the just cause and innate superiority of the House of Red, made Carmine's heart pound with rage. Nevermind that all her life she had indeed always been compensating for her inner doubts, always searching for ways to win the respect and approval of the other monarchs, whom she knew belittled and insulted her behind her back. That did not matter, because she knew this time she was in the right. "Grandmother! Why are you saying this, where are you finding this drivel? Wolves as noble creatures, the laws as abused and unfair, our family as weak-willed and misled by wrongful prejudice! You should have nothing to do with this, it makes no sense!" Questing for a reason, a method to unravel her grandmother's arguments, she latched onto Cerise. "Did someone coerce you into it? Was it my sister?"

"Carmine!" Red Riding Hood's voice lashed out like a whip, making Carmine recoil. If she had had any further doubts as to her truly being her grandmother, they were shattered now. The fury that could slice through the most chiselled of hearts, which she remembered well from the days of childhood punishment, was unmistakeable. It was the same mettle that had served her well in her confrontations with Old Grey. "I say this of my own free will. It is what I believe. I know this is a great shock to you, and will be hard for you to deal with, but there are other opinions besides yours that matter. I have had no contact with Cerise. It is true the May Queen considered summoning her here to speak with you, but I prevailed on her to send me instead. I knew you would never listen to Cerise, particularly on this matter. You never did when she lived." Her tone was brittle, her words spoken between clenched teeth.

For a brief instant Carmine felt a surge of despair and loneliness as she realized her own stubbornness and pride had prevented her from having a reunion with the sister she had so cherished and loved. But only for an instant, before the understanding of why this meeting had been denied her became clear. "You are absolutely right, Grandmother! I did not listen to her, and would not now, if it meant hearing more lies about wolves! She was fooled by the grandson of Old Grey, fooled into believing he could truly love, and it was her choice to lose her life for him, not mine! If I had to hear her say once more how wonderful he was and how wrong I was to condemn him to death...then I am glad you came instead of her! In that case, I never want to see her again!"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, although she regretted them in the same breath. Horrified, she covered her mouth with one shaking hand and stared at her grandmother, who in turn looked as if she could not believe she was a blood relative to someone so callous and selfish. "I...I didn't mean that..." But that was the crux of the matter--in that fit of temper, she had indeed meant it. And even if her anger at Duncan and wolves in general had placed her in that state of mind, she could not blame them--she was the one in charge of her own emotions. It was up to her how to react, how to feel, what to say and do. And she had chosen this.

"What have I become...what have I become..." Dissolving into tears, she at last collapsed on the dewy grass, sobbing at her grandmother's feet.

After a while she felt a hand stroking her hair, and she looked up to see Red Riding Hood gazing down at her regretfully. "You have become a shell, my child. What began as an attempt to protect your people and please me transformed into an obsession, and the hatred has consumed you. There is only cruelty and revenge in you now; there is no room for love or compassion in your heart...for humanity." Pain etched the lines of her face and the tendons of her throat.

"No..." Carmine whispered. "No...there must be a way to change it...another way..." Her eyeshadow and mascara were running, she could feel it as she wiped at her eyes, but for once she did not care. For she was desperate to evade the truth her grandmother had offered. It was quite beyond her.

"There is no other way." Red Riding Hood sighed. "I do not expect you to change overnight. All I ask is that you relinquish your hatred for wolves, and at least promise to keep an open mind. You will find, if you only allow yourself to truly see, that wolves are not what you think...that Wolf is not what you think. But that will take time. This is only the first step of many on your journey back to yourself. For now, only end your vendetta...listen and learn."

A great struggle ensued in Carmine's heart. A part of her, a rapidly growing part, longed to do as her grandmother asked. She was weary of hatred, weary of the toll it took on her, and she wanted to be free of its burden. But another part of her, the darkness in her soul, refused to let go. "I...I can't. I just can't. Don't you understand? After what was done to my sister...by the grandson of Old Grey..."

"Duncan," Red Riding Hood said softly.

"What?"

Her grandmother fixed her eyes on Carmine's. "He had a name, my dear. His identity was not limited by his ancestry. Just as it was not limited by his species."

There was nothing Carmine could say to that. She only stared vacuously, silently.

Several more minutes passed, and then Red Riding Hood lifted her face to the moonlit heavens and closed her eyes. "I had hoped it would not come to this, but you have forced my hand." She opened her eyes again. "If you will not give up your hatred for yourself, or for me, then you will do it for your kingdom."

Carmine frowned warily. "What are you talking about?"

Red Riding Hood folded her hands neatly in front of her. "Let's use logic, shall we? If you continue your course and maintain your policy as it is, eventually one of two things will happen. Either the wolves will rise up against you, or they will depart your Kingdom forever. The first choice is obviously undesirable. As to the second, I am aware that the exodus has already begun, and is likely to increase." As the queen's face lit up and she prepared to speak, her grandmother rushed on. "But before you start to celebrate, let me remind you of certain facts you have conveniently forgotten. The wolves constitute over half of your population. What do you think will happen if they all migrate to the Fourth and First Kingdoms? Many of them are profitable members of your society, though you in your ignorance do not know it--merchants, farmers, hunters, soldiers. Even more of them buy, trade, and sell goods. If they depart, your economy will collapse, your army will be attritioned, and your food supply will dwindle. Famine and poverty will be rampant, and your people will suffer. It is human nature to seek a scapegoat, to find someone to blame and hate. But their favorite target, the wolves, will be gone. Who then will they turn on?" Red Riding Hood paused significantly, her jade eyes boring in.

All throughout this speech, Carmine had listened with growing horror. Now at last she found her voice, and was not surprised to hear it tremble in fear. "Me?"

Her grandmother nodded grimly. "The government is visible, overt by its very nature. They will come after you, my dear. They will seek you out, and if pressed hard enough, revolt. Your army will not only be outnumbered, but many soldiers will be similarly disgruntled, as you will not be able to pay their salaries in a time of such paucity. You will be toppled from your throne. Perhaps even executed. But in any case, your Kingdom will then be weak, ready pickings for the Trolls, who have ever cast their eyes northward in search of new lands to conquer. And if the Second Kingdom falls, the Fourth will face enemies on two borders. The Nine Kingdoms will fall, one by one, like a line of dominoes. And all because you refused to be lenient with the wolves."

She fell silent, and the sudden quiet was like the slamming of a cell door, or the pounding of nails into a coffin. Carmine's heart thudded against her chest, and she took huge gulps of air as she fought with her conscience. The words were familiar, as they or ones like them had been spoken by a few of the wiser, braver heads among her advisers. She had refused to believe it before; but now they echoed with the inevitability of truth. She trembled, then shuddered, feeling her will give way before the onslaught of reasons why she should relent. The only one remaining that still cried for hatred was retreating, fading into a whimpering whisper, revealed as what it truly was--pettiness, arrogance, the petulance of a child wanting its own way simply because, in the child's world, no one else's needs mattered.

But that was not true, and she knew it. She cared for her people, for her kingdom, for her world. She cared for her grandmother, and no longer wished to upset and anger her, making her spirit restless and contrite. She wanted to please her; and even if she could not accept most of what Red Riding Hood had told her, she was a practical woman, and knew the reality of the situation. For the sake of her kingdom, and her own heart, she had to abandon her hatred. The continued persecution would not bring justice to Old Grey, nor would it prevent any more like him from arising; in fact it would likely create such wolves out of spite and revenge. All it could do for her now was plant the seeds for future conflicts, while assuaging her guilt for not being able to help her grandmother or her sister. Only it would not stay buried; it would continue to haunt her until she dealt once and for all with Wolf and the past. But that need not involve the other wolves. That was personal, between her and Wolf.

Slowly, reluctantly, digging in her nails all the way, she let go of the hatred that had held her in thrall for so long, that had been destroying her from the inside out.

Her heart lurched, and a scream of such piercing anguish and wailing agony split the air. It took her a shocked moment to realize it clawed its way from her own throat. It was like the scream of a banshee, or a victim of unending Troll torture, dying and yet still suffering from a spiritual pain that would last for eternity. It scraped her bones raw.

But at last it ceased, and she tumbled to the earth in a pitiful heap. She could only lie there, aching and moaning, watching with unfocused eyes as a ball of dark gray mist wafted up from her chest, roiling and churning like a stormcloud, until it was caught by her grandmother's outstretched hand and disappeared.

As if from a long way off, Carmine heard Red Riding Hood speak. "I know you are in pain now, but one day you will thank me for this. You will realize that today was the day you chose to start your new life...to save yourself from the darkness. And in time, you will forgive yourself, and dwell only on a bright future." She paused. "Then you will be a queen to make me proud."

Carmine did not answer; she only wept. She wept instinctively, unceasingly, her hands pressed to her face as she shivered in loss and visceral, gut-wrenching waves of pain. Her grandmother had said she was only a shell filled with hatred, and now, now she knew how right she had been. For without the hatred of wolves, she felt only empty, hollow, like a statue of clay or one of her dressmaker's mannequins. She wanted to crumble, to break apart. It hurt so much. Yet at the same time she inexplicably felt nothing--as if with the one great support of her life taken away, she knew not how to replace it. Nothing rushed in to fill the void. It remained empty.

After a long time, the pain finally receded enough to become manageable, and she was able to sit up, although every limb tremored as if afflicted with palsy. Looking around, she found she was alone, exactly as she felt inside, and with a cry of despair, she stumbled to her feet and ran.

She fled, fled the arbor, fled what she had wrought, fled herself. But when she reached the end of the hedgerow and flung herself around the corner, she slid to a stop. Before her lay a vast, circular space in the center of the maze, filled with thick silvery mist that resembled a storm-tossed sea. Vaguely, through the haze, she could see two other figures emerge from other passages, and she knew they had to be Wolf and Virginia. They ran toward each other.

But before they could meet, the mist heaved upwards into a column, borne on a cyclone that soon gathered up twigs, leaves, and branches in a blur of motion. Recognizing the phenomenon at once, Carmine watched breathlessly as the May Queen's faceless visage and massive body formed anew. Terrifying, ancient, venerable, she made Carmine fall to her knees in fear. She wanted to hide her face, but her hands were frozen.

Then she blinked. At the May Queen's feet, three ephemeral silhouettes stood, arms upraised. One she saw instantly was her grandmother, but the other two...one was Wolf's father, and the other was the Evil Queen!

Three balls of mist rose from the spirits' hands, like offerings to a divine power, but before Carmine could focus on them, they were gone, absorbed into the May Queen's foggy framework. When she looked down, the spirits were gone as well.

"You have done well." The May Queen's voice boomed out across the valley, reverberating as from a wave-washed cavern. "Your gifts please me, and my laws are fulfilled. As I promised, you have won your own freedom, and are released. One day you will learn that, in fact, you have benefitted the most, and received the true gifts. It is up to you now to make the most of it...to follow your paths wherever they may lead you."

A crack of thunder shook the maze, and Wolf and Virginia fell to the ground as well, holding and protecting each other. A wash of wind buffeted them all, racing outwards from the center, and then the May Queen vanished. The hedges began to glow, brighter and brighter, and then dissolved into mist which instantly whipped away, clearing the valley. Beyond the perimeter of the final hedgerow, the hawthorn bushes began to shimmer and ripple, and then their incandescent white petals fluttered free, rising high in a flurry of movement, no longer blossoms but plume moths, feathery and delicate, like frozen filigree. Entranced by their beauty, Carmine kept her eyes on them, watching, watching, as they rose high into the deep blue vaults of the night sky.

When they had departed, she shook herself, as if awaking from a dream, and looked back to earth. What she saw startled her. The valley was completely empty--the hedges, the mist, the hawthorns, all had been swept away during the brief flight of the plume moths, as if they had never been. For miles in every direction, she could see only waving grass, interrupted only by a narrow, dusty road leading to the northwest. All that remained to mar the plain, and remind her of her experience, was the fairy-ring, glimmering with dew in the pale moonlight.

Somewhere nearby she could hear a voice shouting, and she turned with disinterest to see the Piper running toward her, his handsome features alight with relief and happiness. But she soon looked away again, for there was something much more compelling to see. Even as he reached her side and helped her to her feet, she could not tear her gaze away from the center of the valley.

There, standing where the May Queen had been, were Virginia and Wolf...embracing, kissing, shedding tears of joy, clinging to each other as if they were one being, never to be divided again. The moon highlighted their forms, made each tender gesture and loving glance stand out with great clarity. And as Carmine stared at them, she felt something begin to stir within, something growing gradually to replace the lonely emptiness...a sense of wonder, as she witnessed her captors' reunion with new eyes...