Tiffany Dunn - If I Should Never Find You

It told her now of the imp's mistakes and disappearance into the mirror. He had failed differently than she had expected, and that would require more planning. But an imp could only do so much, and she was certain that he would not surprise her again.

Rena dismissed the wind, and the cave she lived in grew very still with its departure. She had chosen this spot for its silence, that she could better hear when the wind whispered. In its absence, the silence became material, bullying away the endless crashing of waves on the nearby shore.

So few people understood what a true lack of noise was like. It got so quiet even your breathing sounded like you were screaming.

Rena understood it. It was the same emptiness as death had been. She touched one of the cold, stone walls and smiled. When her plan was fulfilled, this was as close as she would ever get to death again.

Melissa got slowly to her feet, trying to watch every direction at once. She looked behind her and saw a mirror on the ground, its surface glowing brightly. Next to her, Teresa was staring at the forest, her face very pale.

"Are you all right?" Melissa whispered.

Teresa slowly shifted her gaze to Melissa and nodded.

"Where's Sport?" She continued to talk softly, though there was no reason to.

"The forest. He ran into the forest." Teresa whispered, too.

"I guess we should get him." When Terry remained quiet, Melissa took her hand and started walking. This is either one hell of a dream or I've suffered a massive concussion. She'd never had a dream this vibrant before, and since she had last been running head first for a wall, she guessed it was probably a concussion. Maybe when I find Sport I'll wake up. She hoped that was true. The smell of pine trees and wet earth was distressingly strong. A small voice in her head kept insisting that this place was as real as it seemed.

She squeezed Terry's hand to comfort both of them. The other woman still looked alarmingly pale. "I wonder why you're here," Melissa mused aloud.

Terry kept her gaze on the trees as she said, "Because I jumped into the mirror after you."

"No, I mean --" an eerie yowl ahead interrupted her. It was Sport, and it sounded like he was hurt. Panicked, Melissa dropped Terry's hand and ran into the forest to find him, shouting to Teresa to follow.

She burst into the forest's interior, the shadows swallowing her footsteps and most of her wavering courage. But she had heard Sport, and it had come from this direction.

"Sporty? Sport, where are you?" Melissa trod carefully, watching each step. Trees pressed in all around her, tall and enormously thick. The branches drooped towards the ground, laden with thousands of heavy leaves. Now that the sun was going down, its light was easily overcome as it tried to creep feebly into the dusky forest.

All in all, it sent a chill racing up Melissa's spine.

"Come on Sport. Leave the gremlin thing alone."

No birds twittered happily here, or even seemed to move about the trees. Instead there was a soft wind, the rustling of some animals in the brush, and her own voice.

Melissa looked behind her, realizing that Terry hadn't followed her into the forest. She cursed softly and turned to go back when she heard the same yowling from deeper within. Pausing indecisively, she rubbed one hand over her face. Which friend should she go back for? When Sport's hurt cry turned into one of fear, her mind was made up.

"Just stay there," Melissa murmured to both of her lost friends, before taking off after Sport.

Wendell crouched in the bushes and tried not to breathe. A few meters in front of him, a young stag was calmly grazing, keeping his watchful eyes open. He just needed one more step, and then Wendell would have dinner.

His hand was sweaty on the knife's hilt and he tried not to think of how sharp the ends of the antlers were. Perhaps I should have borrowed a hunting bow, instead he thought. As he crouched here, the sweat itching down the side of his face, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to take the knife. Since he'd made his decision to 'escape' from the castle he'd felt a piercing recklessness that surprised him in these quiet moments.

After he'd gotten out of the guards' view earlier, he had rubbed dirt onto his face and clothes and simply started walking. There were small farms all along the road; carts and people passed both ways. No one had even noticed him.

Sometime by mid-afternoon, hunger made his stomach tight so he paused at an empty farmhouse. There had been food there, but he couldn't steal it from out of his people's mouths. Instead he took a wicked looking hunting knife and promised the empty room he'd return it later.

After also equipping himself with a flask of water and rope for a snare, Wendell had disappeared into the Royal Forest to set the trap and wait. He had imagined it would be a rabbit that tripped it.

The stag lifted its head, its nostrils flaring as it took in some scent that Wendell could never catch. Not anymore, at least. He knew the smells were there now, and he missed the ability he'd had as a dog. Then he'd only had to sniff, and a hundred images presented themselves. He sniffed now, but could only taste the pungent tang of the bush he crouched behind.

If I were a dog, he thought, I could smell how old that stag was. Where it had come from. Why, if I were a dog I could leap out and chase him down. Catch him after a good hunt! Rip out his throat and gorge myself on meat! Overwhelmed with excitement, Wendell began barking furiously. The stag bolted away from him and Wendell followed on all fours, still barking.

After only a few seconds, the stag was gone.

Wendell whined and sat back on his haunches. He stared down at his hand, wondering briefly where his paws were.

"Suck an elf!" He scrambled to stand on his feet, breathing hard. "You are NOT a dog. You are King Wendell, the human." He stared at his hands, convincing himself they were supposed to look like that.

It had been an unforeseen side effect of the queen's powerful spell that he occasionally went 'doggy.' As the weeks passed it was easier to control, but in stressful times Wendell could forget himself and start acting like a bloody fool. It was small comfort that Prince still had his 'human' moments.

Wendell wiped his hands on his shirt, shaking slightly. One more day as a dog and he never would have found himself again. That was more frightening than the nightmares.

Up ahead, Wendell heard a strange yowling by some creature he thought he recognized. It sounded like it was in pain. Curious, Wendell pushed his way through the underbrush toward the noise. He tried to make as much noise as he could while still walking quietly, undecided whether he wanted to run into an injured, unknown animal or not.

After several minutes' walk, the noise had stopped and Wendell still hadn't found the creature. He'd wandered into a small clearing, walled in on all sides by tall trees and thick brush. Very little light broke through here and he kept squinting to try and see something. Anything other than the shadowed trees and black bushes. Directly behind him, the yowling started again, accompanied by heavy rustling of the undergrowth. Wendell spun, his knife held ready, and peered into the thick shadows.

The strange cry changed into a noise Wendell recognized -- that of a very frightened cat. He instinctively growled in response and then caught himself. Rolling his eyes at his own behavior, Wendell squatted down and held out his empty hand.

"Come here, cat," he told it expectantly. The cat looked at him, quiet for a moment, and started meowing pitifully again. "Cat. Come here." He made small gestures to it, to no effect. Frowning, he scooted closer, but the cat, a huge one from what he could see, hissed at him. "Do you wish my help or not?" It stared at him, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

When the bushes started rustling again, both stood and turned to look. Wendell slipped his knife to his hand while the cat started crying more loudly.

"Sport!" It was a woman's voice, followed closely by the woman herself. She ran into the clearing and scooped the cat into her arms with surprising ease. Uncertain of this stranger, Wendell watched her closely while she kissed the cat all over.

"Are you all right, Sporty? I heard you crying." She planted a kiss on the cat's belly and Wendell sighed. It was just a cat after all. "I was worried about you," she continued.

Wendell cleared his throat loudly to put a stop to the unseemly display. The woman jumped, nearly dropping Sport.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, grasping the cat closer. The shadows effectively hid her face, but Wendell imagined it was furious by her tone of voice.

"I'm Ki-" he stopped and began again. "Wendell. Just Wendell. Who are you, miss?"

"Why?"

He raised one eyebrow in surprise. It was not unexpected, though. He was as much a stranger to her as she was to him. "I did tell you my name," he said softly.

"Melissa."

He waited but she offered no further pleasantries. "And that is your cat, then?"

"Yes."

Wendell nodded. This was going well -- so far she didn't realize who he was. "And its name is Sport?"

"Yeah."

"Is he injured?"

She looked down at the cat, shifting him in her arms. "Not really."

He pursed his lips, not sure how to carry on a conversation with a peasant. What sort of things did commoners discuss? "Good crop this year?"

She stared at him in silence. Obviously not a farmer, he decided.

"Listen," she said, "I'll just take Sport and leave you and your forest alone. I'm leaving!" she shouted to the sky for some reason. She looked around at the trees and sighed heavily. "Why didn't that work? I found Sport."

"You have to actually walk out to leave the forest," Wendell supplied. She didn't seem to be very intelligent.

"Right. I probably have to find Teresa, too. I wonder what Freud would say about this?"

Probably that you're not playing 'Happy Families' with a full deck, Wendell thought. He didn't say it aloud, afraid to upset her in her obviously delicate condition. She must have a very hard life. "Do you need help?"

Melissa was staring at him again. He wished he could see her well enough to see her expression.

"I know who you are," she said slowly.

Oh blasted elf wings, Wendell sighed. Now the whole thing will be ruined. "There's no need to treat me any differently."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of it. You don't look anything like him, though. That's kind of odd."

"Really?" Wendell smiled. "That is exactly what I had hoped to hear."

"Whatever." Melissa turned and started back the way she'd come. "You can help if you want. I don't plan on being here long enough for it to matter."

Intrigued by her easy acceptance, and a strange desire to see her face, Wendell hurriedly followed. She made good time through the thick foliage, her arms wrapped around Sport.

"You certainly are blunt for a commoner," Wendell said when he'd caught up.

Melissa laughed dryly. "That is so typical of you. You always did think you were better than everyone else."

He frowned, perplexed. She was not like he imagined at all. "I don't interact with many of my people, I'm afraid. I expected it to be rather different. More..." he gestured vaguely. "Groveling, I suppose."

"Groveling! You got more than enough before. There's no way I'm doing that again."

"Before?" Now he was truly confused. "Have we met?"

"Jesus," That one word dripped with disgust. "You may not look like Rob right now, but you're certainly stupid and arrogant enough to convince me."

Wendell gasped. "Stupid and arrogant? You are speaking to the king!"

"The King of Assholes. I thought I paid my dues in life. Why are you bothering me again? Here?"

She was taking long, swift strides now. Wendell was angry enough to easily keep up.

"I'll have you know --"

"Teresa!" Melissa broke into a run, crunching helpless plants underfoot as she made for the silhouetted figure at the forest's edge.

"Well if that isn't the queen's own, I don't know what is," Wendell huffed. This peasant was nothing like he'd expected. He took more care exiting the forest, trying not to crush any more plants. A Dandy Lion growled at him as he walked past, one of its leaves ripped off. Wendell grunted, his mind racing with thoughts of how cruel, rude, ill tempered, and un-educated the woman was. He stepped out of the forest, fully prepared to give her a piece of his mind, when his mind slipped away from him.

The sun had almost set now, but the last red and orange rays lay long across the grass and the two women who watched him. He noticed, vaguely, that one was older, probably Antony's age, with short hair and kind eyes. But it was the other woman, the one he knew was Melissa, that had stolen his senses.

In the forest's shadows, Wendell had seen only hints of long, dark hair and sharp features. In the waning light, he also saw the striking beauty of her finely boned face, but even that meant nothing when he looked into her eyes. They were startling in their intensity, gray like a stormy morning sky. Deep within them, he saw a weariness with life that his soul responded to. Wendell knew, without knowing why, that she would understand him if he told her of all his hopes and despair. A part of him that had lain dormant all his life rose up, shouting into his soul about kindred spirits and eternity. He wanted to grab her and tell her all the things that had lay heavy on him since the Evil Queen had first turned him into a dog.

But, he thought, seeing the shadows that darkened her eyes, She will have to listen, first.

"Why haven't we left yet?" she said, breaking the quiet spell that had wrapped him up.

"Are you ... asking ... me?" Wendell ventured slowly. He felt odd, like a fog had gripped his mind. He remembered being very angry, but couldn't feel it anymore.

Melissa's whole body drooped. "This is the damndest dream I've ever had."

"Dream?" The first rays of dread pierced the fog. "You think you're dreaming?"

"How else do I explain this? Meeting some handsome, arrogant guy in a forest. Jumping at a wall and landing here. A glowing mirror. It's all to much to be anything else."

She babbled on for another minute while the word 'mirror' echoed deafeningly for Wendell. "By Snow White's grave," he breathed. "You've come through a traveling mirror. You must be from the Tenth Kingdom." He stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders, cutting her off. "Where did you get a traveling mirror?" It took all of his control to keep from shouting.

"Let me go."

"Tell me where you got the mirror, Melissa." Whatever haze had draped over him before had blown away entirely.

"Screw you. I don't have to tell you anything." She squirmed in his grasp, but he held on. Sport hissed a warning at him.

"There is only one traveling mirror left in all the Nine Kingdoms. That one is in my castle. This is a matter of national security. Now tell me where it is!" He shouted the last part and saw her spellbinding eyes flash.

"You arrogant son of a bitch. I'm not going to tell you anything. You're just a dream!"

Wendell squeezed her arms and then let her go. "It's not a dream. You're in the Fourth Kingdom now. You came from the Tenth Kingdom. Virginia called it New York, I believe." He rubbed the back of his neck. He doubted she would take this well. "I'm King Wendell, ruler of the Fourth Kingdom, grandson of Snow White."

Melissa barked a laugh, and Sport meowed softly. "Snow White? Like the fairy tale? What about Cinderella?"

"She still rules the First Kingdom."

"She ... rules..." Melissa took a step away, narrowing her eyes. "This is crazy."

Teresa cut off Wendell's retort. "But it's true.

Wendell and Melissa both turned to stare at the other woman. Her kind eyes had lost their dazed sheen.

"What?" Melissa whispered.

"You know its true, hon. Can't you feel it?"

"People don't just jump through mirrors into other worlds."

"Some do."

"Some have," Wendell added. "There is a man here now from your world. And surely you've heard of the valiant adventures of Virginia?"

Melissa shook her head. "Not unless you're talking about the state."

"No. She is one of the Four Who Saved the Nine Kingdoms."

"Great."

"Melissa, please. We can discuss this later. Tell me where you got the mirror."

She clenched Sport more tightly, keeping distance between herself, Teresa, and Wendell. "I didn't get it anywhere. We were in my kitchen... I can't believe this is true. I was running at a wall, why can't I be unconscious?"

The plaintive tone of voice made Wendell wish it were so, if only for her sake. She sounded terribly frightened.

Teresa spoke again. "Sometimes life goes beyond what you can see, dear. Sometimes you just have to feel."

"Where is the mirror?" Wendell insisted. He had to know.

Those startling eyes merely watched him, and he saw the tumultuous war of her thoughts within. "You can only get back home through the mirror, Melissa. There is no other way. If I must, I will wait until you return to it to go home and find it then. Save us all from that nonsense and tell me where it is."

Resignation flickered across her beautiful features. "We left it over that rise."

He saw the rise easily enough and started running towards it.

He heard Melissa shout after him to wait, but he didn't stop until he'd crested the grassy knoll. The two women stopped next to him a short minute later, and he heard Melissa's distinct groan.

"It's gone."