A.N.D. - Wolf Woods

The lupine honor guard wasn’t half as startling as the howling that announced her arrival, although Cinderella was grateful that the wolves around her harmonized with rather than drowned out her trumpeters as her procession pulled into the main square of New Sanctuary.

She didn’t really know what to expect as her carriage pulled to a stop. Wolves were... well, wolves, when all was said and done. Wendell could say what he liked about how civilized many of them were; Cinderella just knew that as soon as she wasn’t looking, her doggie guard was probably sniffing each other’s tails and licking themselves.

Cats were just so much more... civilized!

As the carriage pulled to a welcome stop, Cinderella pried her aching bones out of her seat, plastered a smile on her face that was as false as it was sunny, and prepared to make a grand entrance. She could hear the crowd outside; they wanted a heroine and she would give them one!

Even if the effort killed her.

Her first view of New Sanctuary was gratifying; as she emerged, everyone swept into low bows and curtsies, holding their poses. The human-shaped wolves, she noticed, flourished their tails as well as their arms as they bent down, while the furry ones dropped to their front elbows with their butts up in the air. The pose reminded her of dogs wanting to play, although their muzzles were pointed respectfully down and there weren’t any slobbery toys between their paws.

This isn’t so bad. She’d had nightmares the entire trip up about being greeted with animals wanting to sniff personal places. Often those dreams included a golden tail on Wendell, who acted as slobbery and silly as he had as a dog.

“Greetings, your majesty!” his voice called happily. Cinderella looked around, finally spotting him standing on a platform that had been built to one side. And speaking of cats-Red Riding Hood was right next to him! What brings her here?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“You may rise,” Cinderella called graciously to the peasants around her, allowing the noise and confusion of their movement to cover her stiff exit from the coach. Oh, she was getting too old for this! Good thing that reviewing platform was so close-she wasn’t sure she could walk very far after all that jolting!

Wendell stepped forward to greet her, murmuring, “Thank you for coming, Grandmother,” as he bent down to kiss her hand.

“What is Hood doing here?” Cinderella whispered in his ear as he was down. For a split second, Wendell’s fingers tightened painfully over hers.

“Butting in, mostly. I think I’ve settled it,” Wendell’s face as he straightened up, his back to the interloping queen, was a study in self-satisfaction. Cinderella raised a skeptical eyebrow. Men were merely men, after all, and simply weren’t able to understand some very important aspects of life, poor dears. Such as why one could never wear the same ball gown twice, the difference between oyster forks and salad forks, and how to carry on a diplomatic bitch fight.

Well, time for the heroine to come to the rescue once again. “What a lovely surprise,” Cinderella cooed as she sashayed over to Red. “You’re the last person I ever thought I’d see here.”

Red had hoped to have a little time to settle in between facing down Wendell and dealing with Cinderella, but barely had they managed to fight each other to a standstill when a royal fanfare (as arranged for trumpeters and wolf voices) sounded in the distance. Amazing! The old broad actually made it!

Glory-hogging as always, Cinderella made A Grand Entrance, and Wendell went to slobber all over his granny like the dog he used to be. Then the faded heroine turned to her, and Red felt an odd jolt of gladness. She recognized the poisonously polite expression on Cinderella’s face. At long last-a war she knew how to fight and had the weapons to win!

She made a polite nod to Cinderella’s insolent opening and parried with cruel charm of her own. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could come after all! I trust the journey wasn’t too rough on you?”

The old bat had a hitch in her stride that had nothing to do with bad knees, but she only answered, “Not at all. I feel invigorated. I daresay I feel young again.”

Hah! Red speared right for the opening she’d been handed. “And indeed, you look half your age.”

For a split second Cindy looked pleased, until she did the math and still came up with “old.” Red bared her teeth in a bright smile.

Cinderella bared hers back. “Have you had a chance to find rooms for yourself and all your people?” She looked around at the town. “It’s rustic, but you’re used to that, aren’t you? What with your family being woodcutters originally.”

“It’s quite crowded, but I’m sure they can find you some accommodations you’ll be used to,” Red said soothingly. “They must have servants quarters somewhere belowstairs.”

Whatever Cinderella might have said to that was lost when Wendell clapped his hands, drawing all eyes to him. “I’ve been speaking with the leaders of the town. Rooms have been made for us,” he looked at Red for a moment, his voice growing colder, “All of us. I suggest we all go, get settled in, freshen up, and have dinner. Tomorrow, the trial will begin.”

Cinderella and Red gave each other chilly curtsies and went on their way without another word.

Wendell had thought the square had been crowded before, full as it was of royal retainers and curious onlookers. Now, minutes before the trial would begin, it was so jammed that a person could walk from building to building entirely on the tops of people’s heads-taking baby steps!

There were only two places that weren’t packed. The first was the royal judging stand, where Wendell and Cinderella and Red had staked out makeshift thrones for themselves and plain chairs for the advisors they had. Lord Rupert sat behind Wendell, Cinderella was flanked by her two servant-sisters, and a thin, frazzled woman Wendell didn’t know sat by Red’s throne, reading newspapers as fast as she could.

And off to one side, away from the royalty but above the crowd, sat a worried Lord Anthony with his arm around Lady Virginia, who was pale but resolute, slowly bouncing her somewhat fussy baby. A ring of soldiers in alternating livery from the First, Second, and Fourth kingdoms surrounded the dias, making sure that no one disturbed them.

The second platform was not only bare except for the stand holding the shrouded mirror, but the ground before it was open as well. Nobody wanted to be too close to the witness stand, as if to touch it was to become guilty by association.

Wendell gulped a deep breath. Now that the moment was upon him, he realized how terrified he was. What truths would be reflected in the mirror this day, and how would he deal with them? Grandmother, be with me! He scrubbed his hands on the legs of his suit and almost laughed when he caught Red making a similar gesture out of the corner of his eye. You’re not the only one with much at stake here! Oddly comforted, he cleared his throat.

“Bring forth the Wolf!”

They’d loaded him with so many chains that it was amazing he could move at all. Unable to walk with the shackles, he shuffled slowly out from the jail and up the short stairs to the witness platform. A guard pulled the covering off the truth mirror and Captain Carew pushed Wolf into a position where he was reflected, but Wendell and the queens could also see whatever else the mirror chose to show them.

Wendell remembered how the wolf had been in Little Lamb Village-blubbering, contradictory, frantic, trying to get away with transparent lies. His hero made a very bad defense witness, and he’d been dreading the antics he might get up to now. But instead of begging or pleading, Wolf stood silently, his head down and one shoulder up defensively. His face was turned away, but from the glitter under his eyelashes, Wendell was aware that he was looking straight at them.

There was something oddly familiar about his posture, and Wendell frowned, trying to place it. Something he’d seen long ago, now what was it?

Suddenly, with a cold shock, the memory became clear. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old; his mother dead, his father sick. Little Wendy hadn’t known what else to do, so he’d taken the wonderful walking, talking mechanical soldiers the dwarves had made him and built a defensive ring around his father’s bed.

“What is this?” his stepmother had asked, stopping in surprise as she arrived with the special trays she brought every day.

“They’ll protect Father,” Wendy had explained.

She’d laughed nastily, kicking her way through, and taking time out to stomp extra hard on his favorite. Lord Rupert had found him later, crying over the toys, and had tried his best to fix them. But his proud wind-up captain had never been the same since, standing with a permanent list to port. He’d been broken inside.

Wolf looked similarly shattered.

Wendell closed his eyes, unable to watch his hero’s face as he listed the charges. “Wolf Lewis, also known as Wolf of Wolves and Wolf Pardon-Winner, you are accused of poisoning your wife Virginia Lewis, of brutally attacking your own child, Wendell Lewis, and raping the servant girl Betsy Comfort.”

Wolf muttered something.

“Speak up! Is that your plea?”

Wolf shook his head, addressing the toes of his boots, or possibly the heavy cuffs on his ankles. “I said, her name’s Betty.”

Wendell blinked. He was quite sure that Mrs. Comfort’s girl was named Betsy, but that was a very minor detail. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty!” The voice that rang out confidently was female, and everyone gaped at Virginia Lewis, who was now standing, her baby in her father’s arms. “He would never hurt anyone, least of all his own family!”

Wolf’s head snapped up, his mouth open, hope, relief, and joy on his face as he leaned towards her. The tip of his tail twitched in an aborted wag, and his defeat fell off him like a cloak. “Oh, Virginia! When they wouldn’t let me even send a message, I got so scared...” he started.

Wendell cleared his throat before they started drooling over each other. “Do you plead not guilty?”

“Yes! Yes!” Wolf didn’t glance away from his wife and child for as much as a second.

“Then we shall start with the matter of the child. Tell us what happened between you and your baby that night.”

Wolf shrugged. “Nothin’ much. Nothin’ unusual.”

“Say, ‘I’m telling the truth’ and then do so.”

Wolf snorted at that, craning over his shoulder to look at the mirror. “Tell them I’m telling the truth. I left the house to go hunting. He was in his crib. He was still in his crib when I came back, I remember that.”

The mirror flickered and flashed, setting on a picture of a wilder-looking, bloodstained Wolf bounding into his bedroom. Several woman screamed as the mirror showed him reaching into the crib with bloody, clawed hands.