A.N.D. - Wolf Woods

Littlebit smoothed her skirts down, trying to work up the nerve to take the buckets to the river.

She was too far down on the pecking order to be allowed preferences; what the Wolf of her pack told her to do, she would do as cheerfully as possible. When he told her to pack up and come with them to New Sanctuary, then that’s what she did. It seemed at first like a great adventure, but it didn’t take long for her to wish she was still forgotten back at Lord Anthony’s castle.

She had spent most of her time there sitting in a room sewing, true, but what Wolf refused to believe was that she had been happy. The solaria had many windows which she could open to let the breezes in; it was almost like being outside. She didn’t have to worry about food or being harassed or anything else. She had been challenged, of course, and she had lost every challenge due to her curse. But in Lord Anthony’s castle, service determined your status, not how big a chunk you could bite out of an opponent. As skilled labor and a part-time royal employee, she had a rank that she’d never be able to earn by her teeth and attitude.

Here she was just another low-level halfling wolf, submissive to any Wolf who gave her an order. Her brother did what he could to protect her but he could not always be there to see the glares or feel the pinches and the kicks. She was sure her very presence was an embarrassment to the status Wolf and Virginia had earned, but they refused to even hear of her returning. Virginia probably thought she was protecting Littlebit. Wolf’s motivations were quite clear. They’d been parted long enough. Packs should stay together. Besides, she was needed for when the baby came and that was that.

A nursemaid, particularly for such an important cub, had more rank than just a little sister. Once the babe was in her arms, she would be treated more kindly. But a part of her heart burned in rebellion. Babies! Would she only ever be seen as useful in conjunction with babies? Lord Rupert and King Wendell at least appreciated her for what she could do best, not who she carried in her womb or in her arms.

And it wasn’t just the wolves. No matter how often Virginia dismissed the idea, there was something out there in the woods. It was like being prey, feeling that you were being stared at by a watcher who could not be seen or scented. Every time she went past the village boundaries she could feel it. Some of the other part-wolves could feel it too; they whispered about it. But Littlebit was sure the shadows clustered thicker around her whenever she left the dusty streets and ventured into the thickets. Something out there, somehow, knew. Knew what she was. Knew what she had done.

The sun slanted through the window of the tidy little house that had been built for them. Her dithering wouldn’t wash those dishes or lay the water pipes more quickly! Better go get the water now, before it was dark and the unseen presences were worse!

As she left, vapor trails wisped along in her wake.

Wendell and Anthony watched nervously as the dwarf delegation looked with frowning concentration at the series of photographs. Anthony had brought something called a “polariod” through the mirror, and it worked faster and more accurately than any portrait painter, even the magical ones. Less flatteringly though-Wendell was quite sure that he did not look fat in the royal uniform. Rupert was quick to agree, and Rupert was a connoisseur of that sort of thing.

They weren’t looking at pictures of him, though. Lord Anthony had documented everything he’d done at the cottage. Warwick put down the last photograph with a sigh. “This does not bring back the mirrors you smashed,” he said, thumping the scattered pictures. “Still, you have restored a great treasure to us, one which has been lost for a long time. In memory of the mirrors, I do not call you hero. In memory of the greatest woman who ever lived and what you have returned to her memory, I lift the sentence of death. Leave us alone, Anthony Lewis, and we will leave you alone.”

What a relief! “Does that mean that you will once more be my allies?” Wendell asked hopefully.

Warwick glowered at him. “He rediscovers our history, and you give it away to the wolves! I want a dwarf oversight committee controlling that cottage!”

Uh, oh. While Wendell was trying to find a diplomatically vague answer, Lord Anthony blurted out what he was thinking. Which was, as usual, stunningly undiplomatic. “Oh for heaven’s sake! I can’t believe you people! If that cottage was so important to you dwarves, how did it get lost in the first place? Answer me that! All your mirrors and your magic and you couldn’t keep your sacred space from being completely destroyed. Now that it’s all fixed up and tidy, you don’t want wolves around it. Well, what can they do that would be tackier than Kissingtown? At least they won’t stuff the place full of souvenir shops that practically promise to sell true love by the pound, and they won’t be letting every Tom, Dick, and Cupid try her coffin on for size! Where’s your oversight committee there, huh?”

Warwick stared angrily at him for a moment, then turned to Wendell. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually.”

“Then leaving him with you is suitable punishment for you.” The dwarf turned back to the glowering Anthony. “Your point is made.” He snapped his fingers at a subordinate, who handed him a scroll. “This is the peace treaty,” he said, delivering it to the stunned Wendell. “Now, let’s go see how you’re taking care of that truth mirror.”

Two gypsies clung to the higher branches of a tree. “You see, they are rebuilding the town.”

“That will make it easier to catch us a wolf for the tribe, eh? Can’t be the only ones without a wolf of our own. Can you find one that looks good?”

“Look down,” a gravelly voice said from below.

A ring of wolves circled the tree, gazing up with yellow eyes. The largest opened its muzzle in a panting laugh. “Come down, little birds, I’d like to invite you to dinner. You’ll be the guest of honor.”