Aurendel - Strays

The next morning was less exciting than the previous. That was good, since Jack liked his peace and quiet first thing. He didn’t burn the bacon, and he and the wolf read the day’s paper while they ate. That suited Jack. Breakfast was not a conversational meal in his way of looking at things. Talk is for afternoons and evenings, not early in the morning.

Jack cleaned up the dishes while the wolf stared out the window by the kitchen table, watching the squirrels and birds. When he was finished, Jack announced, “I’m gonna work on replacing that door this morning. If Kate saw it, I’d have a hell of a time explaining those claw marks.”

The wolf nodded. It seemed to Jack it was eying the woods outside longingly. A cooped-up, bored wolf could be a problem. So, much as he disliked having anyone invade his sanctum, Jack decided it would be the better part of wisdom to give the wolf free run of his study.

“Want something to read while I work?” Jack asked.

That got the wolf’s attention. “Sure, Jack.” It limped after him down the hall. When Jack showed it the study, its jaw dropped open. “I’ve never seen so many books!” The wolf’s eyes were round as saucers.

“Help yourself. Just don’t touch the computer,” Jack said, gesturing toward his desk. The warning seemed unnecessary, as the wolf was already pulling volumes off the shelves and inspecting them.

Jack left the wolf to its reading. He worked around the house until lunchtime, then actually had to pry the wolf away from the study to get it to come to the table. It sighed and reluctantly set down a leatherbound edition of White Fang by Jack London.

“Huff-puff, this is not too bad for being written by a human,” said the wolf.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Jack, irritated.

“Wolves have a different perspective.”

Jack grunted. “Look here, now. Far as I know, wolves in this world don’t change into men. Leastways, I’ve never seen any that did.”

The wolf didn’t respond to that. Instead it limped to the kitchen.

Over lunch the two began attempting to figure out how the wolf could have got to Okachula.

“Jack,” said the wolf, between bites of a double hamburger, “I know this place is nowhere in the Nine Kingdoms.” It waved its hand toward the window, indicating the woods outside. “Since we’re so far south it never snows--is that really possible?” Jack nodded, and the wolf continued. “Then obviously, I’ve come here by magic.”

Skeptically, Jack asked, “How does that follow?”

“Nothing could bring me this far so quickly.”

“An airplane could.”

“A what?”

“Flying machine. Guess they don’t have ‘em in the kingdoms?”

“Well, there’s flying spells, of course.”

Jack stared at the wolf.

“What?” the wolf asked, defensively.

“Magic. Fairy tales. Shapechanging. Nonsense!” Jack threw up his hands in disgust and got up from the table. He took their plates to the sink, stomping as he walked, almost throwing the dishes down with a loud clatter. He heard the wolf growl, but ignored it. He fumed as he washed the dishes with a lot of unnecessary splashing. By the time he had regained some composure, the wolf had left the kitchen.

Jack looked around. He hadn’t heard the wolf leave. Sneaky critter. He walked through the living room--no trace. Not in the study, or the bathroom, or the guest bedroom. Where the devil? “Must be outside, drat the varmint,” Jack muttered to himself. He stepped onto the back porch. Through the screen he could see the wolf sitting on the end of the boat dock on the lake. He walked out and sat down beside it. It didn’t look at him. The two of them sat in silence at the end of the dock, swinging their feet over the water.

At last the wolf spoke. “I came out here last night.”

“Ankle?”

The wolf shook its head. “The moon’s barely past full. I’m still a little edgy.”

“Hmph.”

“Besides, that black wooden statue in the corner of the bedroom made me nervous. Seemed like it moved when I wasn’t looking, then didn’t quite go back to its original position when I did look.”

Jack grinned. “That was a gift from a friend. It’s a Masai warrior--half life size. The spear’s sharp, too. My ex-wife hated it. That’s probably why I kept it.”

“You were married?”

Jack nodded.

Very softly, it asked, “How long ago did she die?”

“Die? Hell, she’s living in New England someplace, as glad to be rid of me as I of her.”

The wolf’s jaw was open with astonishment. Then he shook himself. “Humans are strange.” It paused, then added, in a severe tone, “Wolves mate for life.”

“Thank God I’m not a wolf, then,” replied Jack. The wolf rolled its eyes in disgust, then changed the subject.

“I watched the sky last night. The stars, planets, constellations--they’re all the same. I saw the big and little bears over the lake, I found the hunter and his two dogs--all of the same stars I’ve seen at home.”

Jack found this fascinating. A parallel dimension? Or were the kingdoms really somewhere in this world?

The wolf went on, “From their positions I’d say I’m many miles south of the Eighth Kingdom, which we already knew, and that we’re still one full moon away from the summer solstice, which confirms my suspicion that I was brought here by magic, nearly instantaneously. Otherwise, there’d be a lot more time to account for.”

So the wolf did have a reasonable explanation, of sorts. All right, he’d give it the benefit of the doubt.

“Why can’t you remember?” asked Jack.

The wolf hesitated before responding. “You must understand. The full moon, it always has some effect on us, no matter what the circumstances. When other stresses, or stimulations, or what have you, coincide with the full moon, things get complicated.” The wolf closed its eyes, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. Then it looked at Jack. “Usually, I have control over the Change, and don’t become lost in it, though some do--and some even like to. But this time, under the circumstances, well . . . ”

Obviously this was difficult for the wolf. Jack waited patiently.

“When I changed, I was in full fight or flight mode. I went completely wolf. All my perceptions and memories are those of an enraged and panicked animal, not of a rational person. I can recall sensations and images, but they don’t make any sense, because at the time I didn’t know any words to make sense of things.”

“Temporary insanity?”

“That’s not accurate. I was perfectly sane,” the wolf said, stiffly, “just not sapient.”

“All right. You can’t remember. Well, then, what are the possibilities? You said it had to be magic. What kind of magic, and is there any way to send you back?”

“That’s what I’m wondering. It all depends. Elves can translocate people, and sometimes do so on purpose to make travelers lose their way, but I didn’t think there were any in the Disenchanted Forest. Fairies use fairy dust--but same objection. And anyway, if either of those magics were used, my only way back would be to find an elf or some fairy dust in this world.”

“Lotsa luck.”

The wolf ignored this. “I don’t think I smelled an elf or fairy, though. I might remember that. Though I’ve never actually smelled an elf before.”

“But you’ve smelled fairies?” Jack felt there ought to be a bad joke there somewhere, but let it pass.

“They make me sneeze.”

Jack coughed to conceal a laugh. “Are there any other possibilities?”

“Well, according to the messenger who came to my pack, King Wendell has a magic mirror that allows passage between the Nine Kingdoms and the Tenth. There are stories of traveling mirrors, but I’ve never seen one--I don’t think.” The wolf frowned. “I don’t like the idea of King Wendell having tricked me into going through a mirror, huff-puff! That would be very bad. All my pack leader’s worst suspicions would be confirmed.”

Jack nodded absently. Mirrors. What did that remind him of? He racked his brain as the wolf continued with its speculations.

“Of course, the advantage of a mirror is that as long as it’s left open, I should be able to go back, if I can find the point of transfer.”

Somebody had told Jack something about a mirror recently. What was it?

“Jack?” The wolf stared at him. “Are you listening?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think louder. I need all the help I can get, here.”

Jack chewed his mustache, deep in concentration. Mirrors, glass, windows, Tom Downey’s Antiques? Was that it? No, not quite. “Wait. I think I’ve got it.” The wolf stirred restlessly. Jack snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Yesterday when I went to the store, I ran into a couple of old fishermen and they cornered me with some story of what they hauled in. It seems they had an unusual catch the other day--I reckon it must’ve been about four days ago, now. Their net felt heavy, but when they hauled it up, instead of shrimp it had a full-length mirror in a fancy carved frame. The frame was blackened and had barnacles on it, but the glass was in perfect shape.”

The wolf’s eyes glowed green with excitement. “Where is it? Do they still have it?”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t know. Guess I’d better go and find out. You want to come along?” He didn’t really think the wolf should go into town, but might as well offer.

“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d kind of like to finish that book.” The wolf grinned crookedly. “If you’re successful, I might not have time to later.”

“Sure.” Jack stood, and offered the wolf his hand. “Better get back inside. Too hot out here.” The wolf accepted his help, and limped back inside as Jack headed for his truck.