A.N.D. - Wolf Woods

They had to muzzle him before they dragged him off to jail. Red forced herself to watch him as long as he could be seen.

“Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow to decide on precedence and punishment,” Wendell said softly.

“...yes...” Red was barely paying attention to anything else other than her pet and her misery. I have to get out of here! Now, before I break down in front of everyone. Is this what it felt like for all the others when he ruined their lives?

She stumbled blindly from the platform. Her guardsmen tried to clear a route for her, but she couldn’t wait, elbowing her way through the crowd in her frantic flight. Lucy tried to keep pace with her, but Red got to her room at the pub first and shut the door in her friend’s face.

She cried for a long, long time. She wept for her kingdom. She wept for her falsely accused people. She wept for her reputation.

She wept for Benjamin.

When she was through, she felt like a wrung-out washrag. Red stumbled to the window to peek behind the curtains, wanting to know what was happening but unable to bear the idea of seeing anyone.

Night had fallen and mostly passed while she’d been hiding away. Outside, a waning moon illuminated the empty square and the shrouded mirror. The windows in the houses all around were dark. All too soon the sun would rise and she would have to go out there to face her shame in public.

But before that, she had a mission that she had to accomplish. Alone.

One of her guards was waiting outside. Before he could greet her, she put a finger to her lips and gestured for him to be quiet and wait. He shook his head, but she repeated the gesture imperiously. After all, she was still his ruler!

Slipping off her shoes, she tiptoed down the hall. The doors were thick, but not thick enough to muffle all the sounds of many people sleeping-snores, deep breathing, the creak of a rope frame as someone tossed and turned. Fortunately, the stairs and door were too new to squeak as she escaped.

Outside it was cooler and quieter. It was surprising that there were no wolves skulking about, but all she could hear were the sounds of distant crickets. No one, not a wolf, not a Fourth Kingdom guardsman, accosted her as she went over to the witness platform.

The dratted mirror was taller than she was; rather than risk breaking it by climbing on its frame to uncover it, she just pulled a corner of the wrapping away and sat cross-legged a few inches away from it. Now that she was here, doubts and fears assailed her. Would this work? If it did work, could she bear the answer?

In a locket around her neck were two pictures and a curl of hair. One was a formal miniature of her mother. The other was a quick sketch of her father-a simple thing, but one that caught his easy smile unlike any posed portrait.

The lock of hair was Benjamin’s. She picked it out very gently, holding it up before the glass. “Mirror!” she whispered. “Show me who this hair came from.”

Benjamin replaced her reflection. Swallowing hard, Red managed to force out the next words. “Show me the truth. Show me what drove him insane.”

The mirror started to shimmer dimly by the light of the stars. Red laced her fingers together to stop their shaking. Say it wasn’t me, please say it wasn’t me. Tell me my reforms haven’t been making everything worse.

Flash. A wolf in fur form bit a sobbing, tailed woman hard as he drove her and her crying toddler away from the pack.

Flash. The woman was older, no longer sobbing. She lay on the ground with a surprised expression as a puddle of red spread from her head onto the forest floor.

Flash. The little boy she had first met was running down the road, trying to catch up to a hard-galloping man in the uniform of her royal guard.

Flash. The boy ran up to someone in a guard’s uniform. This was a different man than the rider, a man who cuffed the child hard and threw him into a cage with other frightened wolves.

Flash. A growing boy held the bars of his cage, watching wistfully as human children played on the green outside.

Flash. Benjamin stood, shaking, pale and tearful, beside the closed coffin of King Carmine. He sneaked a peek inside. As he straightened up again, his tears were gone and his eyes burned with hatred.

Flash. Unable to bear it, Red hissed. “Mirror, stop!”

One last question. “Mirror. Tell the truth. What can cure him?”

Her only answer was the sight of her own sad face.

Red pulled the cover back into place and dropped her head into her hands, wishing for the relief of tears, but she was cried out. Her mother’s unwanted voice snickered across her mind. This is what you get for trusting wolves. Red winced as if whipped, beating her fists against her temples.

Suddenly, her father spoke up. This is what you get from trusting wolves. The images that accompanied him flickered through her memory like the scenes from the mirror. Elizabeth the Wolf, making her the most beautiful dresses in all the Nine Kingdoms. Wolf Lewis, handing her the not-poisoned cup of celebratory wine at the coronation, saving her life. Her herbalist, picking plants to brew soothing cups of tea after a long hard day of trying to turn the kingdom around. It was the one thing she allowed a wolf to directly touch before it came to her. Oh, she missed it! She could almost smell that tea right now.

Red blinked. She could smell the tea! She lifted her head, turning to see her ex-herbalist and her ex-groundskeeper kneeling humbly beside the platform. The wolf woman held a steaming mug above her bent head.

“Thank you,” Red said. Surprise made her honest. “I was just thinking of how much I missed that tea. How did you know?”

“I’ve been watching to see what you did in the night. It’s been a hard day for you, I wanted to help. Some of us are still loyal to you.” the wolf answered her.

“Yet you are here.” Oh, she had missed this tea! Cupping the mug in both hands, Red shifted so she was sitting on the edge of the platform, her feet dangling. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

They shifted to a slightly less awkward kneel, the woman leaning against the man.

“Yes, liege lady, we are here,” her ex-groundskeeper admitted. He put a protective arm around the wolf’s shoulders. “That one-your pet-he told us you knew about us and would punish us, so we ran. Your laws, Lady, are... strict.”

Red nodded, taking another sip. “I made a promise,” she told the mug. “I will keep it, despite the costs. Wendell’s laws are my laws now. Equal treatment for wolves and humans.” She sighed, taking another sip. “Why are things so quiet? It’s night. Why are you the only wolf out hunting?”

“No one hunts tonight, my lady. I am the only wolf and my husband is the only human breaking King Wendell’s curfew.”

“Curfew?” Red laughed without humor, stirring the tea with a finger. “I thought curfews were part of my hated Wolf Code. Wendell has them as well?”

“Only here. Only until all this is resolved.”

After a long, thoughtful swig of tea, Red asked, “What are you risking by being out here with me?”

“That depends,” the wolf said cautiously.

“On?”

The groundskeeper answered. “On whether we are King Wendell’s subjects disobeying his order or your subjects ministering to our queen.”

“Oh.” The tea was doing its work. Although bone tired, she was much calmer, although part of that was the anesthesia of despair. “Which do you want to be?”

Wendell raised his fist to knock, then hesitated. Queen Riding Hood’s secretary had shown remarkable discretion, but Littlebit had been remarkably forthcoming in explaining the relationship between the queen and yesterday’s prisoner.

A pet, eh? When he’d hated wolves, he couldn’t imagine wanting to have one around. Now that he did live with them on a daily basis, he couldn’t imagine treating one the way Lord Anthony treated Prince the dog. Still, in his more honest moments, he had to admit that was exactly how he'd treated people not long ago. He’d been so convinced that he was morally superior that it was natural to be demanding and condescending. Just like Queen Red. Only she hadn’t learned the lessons in humility that a month on four paws had taught him.

Well, she was about to learn now. And it was his duty to be as compassionate as possible. Had the story shifted just slightly, it would have been his wolf carried off to prison, him in Red’s shoes this morning.

He knocked.

The secretary, Lucy, opened the door. Red was inside, sitting on her bed, rolling up a series of message scrolls. She held up a finger to Wendell, who nodded and waited politely as she handed them to her messenger, enumerating as she handed each one over.

“These are vital, so ride as fast as you can to my castle and give them right into Lord Watling’s hands. Nobody else. These are the pardons for Elizabeth Wolf, seamstress, and Susannah Wolf, herbalist. These are the letters of release for the conspirators in the dungeon. Make sure that Lord Watling knows that they are all to be restored to their previous status and all impounded properties returned. And this one...” her voice and hand trembled just a little, “formally proclaims the innocence of Wolf Lewis and the consequential abolishment of the Wolf Code.” She cleared her throat. “Make it quite clear to everyone that this is not a general pardon of wolves. They are just as subject to the law as the humans-only now they are subject to human laws.” Her hands empty once again, she laced her fingers together in her lap, still sitting rigidly upright. “Ride as fast as you can. Tell Lord Watling that I will be home in a few days to face the... to handle the changes. Go.”

The messenger fled, leaving Wendell with a queen he still didn’t know how to handle.

She started the conversation, still sitting there on the bed as if it were her throne. “So. You win, Wendell. Congratulations.” Her voice was as cold and remote as the winter wind.

They had never been friends, but they had been acquaintances, competitors, rivals, and allies all their lives, the only living links to the Five Great Women aside from Cinderella. She was a prig and a pest... but so had he been, and she was the only one in all the kingdoms who knew what it was like to try to uphold a famous name while being your own person. The diplomatic phrases Rupert had suggested flew out of his memory. He sat companionably on the corner of her bed and said the first thing that came into his head.

“Must we be enemies?”

She blinked at him. Whatever she’d expected, that wasn’t it. “Isn’t it too late to be anything else?”

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try to change it if you are.”