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I have no intention of heading for the kitchen, as you’ve no doubt guessed. I suspect you think I’m fleeing into the wide blue yonder on my lonesome to become an aged menopausal martyr. That’ll be a big no. There’s no chance I’m wandering around the countryside without my mangy wolf.
So, what am I up to, I hear you ask?
You won’t believe me when I tell you. Fine, I’ll give it a try, but no groaning at the back.
I’m going after the cat. As in the one I sincerely hope is being carted around by our enemies and not left up in the north. I need to see said feline and speak with it, assuming it’s a shifter. The cat’s the key. I know it is. Why? Because I say so and for some unearthly reason, I’m the Realm Storyteller and magic cats are the order of the day. Not your usual trope, I grant you. I was expecting a pink dragon, but hey, moggy mage it is.
My only problem – well, the major problem amidst a huffing shedload of them – is that I can’t get there on my own two feet. At least, not before the serpents arrive here first. I need fast, silent transport. So, right now, I’m legging it down the stairs in hot pursuit of an old bald eagle nanny, last seen through a hole in the wall, fully dressed and donning his backpack.
Almost as though he’s expecting me, I find him outside, staring at the mansion’s ruined threshold.
“I’m waiting for you,” he says, which answers my first question.
“What for?” I reply, moving on to the second.
“I’m coming with you and Curt.”
I knew it. Soggy hearted old bird.
“Curt won’t let you,” I point out. “Besides, there’s Dulcis and the impending pup to consider.”
Wings’ backpack weighted shoulders slump. He’s being torn in half. I’m about to make that better, or worse, depending which way you look at it.
“What are you up to?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “I know you.”
I grab his arm and frogmarch him behind the nearest intact chalet, glancing back at the mansion. My wolf will appear at any moment.
“We don’t have much time,” I tell my suspicious friend.
“You want to see this cat,” Wings states, “and you need me to fly you.”
I’d be a useless spy as the shocked look on my face illustrates.
“I repeat, I know you,” Wings continues, leaning against the chalet to rest the backpack on a window ledge. “Let me guess; you’ve not told Curt.”
“He’d try to stop me going,” I reply. “It wouldn’t work, but then he’d stop you going instead. We’re not giving him the option.”
“What’s all this we? What makes you think I’d do something that stupid? And in daylight? Do you want them to catch us?”
“I need to see the cat before all the serpents come after everyone.”
“Come after you, primarily,” he points out, which is true. “They could be on the way now.”
“King Armpit turned into a slug, Wings. His magic drained out of that pendant. I know it did. I saw it.”
The eagle stares me down. “Even if you’re right, how do you know he won’t recover quickly?”
“I don’t,” I admit, “but we won’t get a better go at this.” I lean in close, eyes pleading. “If they catch me, who knows what he’ll do to me and everyone else. But even if we hide, the serpents will spread over the land, mesmerising everyone. None of our pack will ever be safe again. We can’t beat him and running won’t work. The cat’s the only hope we have. I can’t explain why. I just have a feeling. I have to see it and speak to it. Please, Wings. Please trust me.”
“A feeling,” he says, with a scowl.
I know. It sounds ridiculous and I’ve run out of words to convince him.
“Edi.”
That’s my wolf, yelling. I draw further back behind the chalet.
“Wings, please. Curt will die if we run. He’ll try to protect me and get killed doing it.”
“This feeling,” Wings whispers. “Is it like when you knew Alpha was at The Drop?”
My mind’s eye flashes back to a freezing cold night, a vicious drop and a broken man. I knew the story then and I know it now.
“Yes, exactly like that.” I grasp his shoulders. “This is part of my story. I know it. I must speak to the cat.”
Those beady eyes narrow to barely a slit, grey fluffy eyebrows meeting in the middle. He harrumphs with gusto.
“Wings...” I begin.
He holds up a palm in my face. “Cease. You may be dancing gumwhat mad, but you’re also generally right. So far, at least.”
Does that mean...? “You’ll take me?”
Those eyebrows shoot in the direction of heaven. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Thank you, Wings,” I exclaim, throwing my arms around his neck and landing a bit wet kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”
“Yes, well,” he splutters, peeling me off him and dumping his backpack. “Curt will be very angry with us both. Assuming we live.”
“I know.”
“Edi,” Curt hollers, with a base level of growl mixed in. Oh boy, he’s already livid. He’ll be turning wolf and sniffing me out at any moment.
“Let’s go.” I grab the birdman’s hand and haul him in the direction of the forest, hiding from the assembling pack. I can’t afford any of them trying to stop us. Once Wings changes, they’ll all guess what we’re up to.
“Mind the holes,” Wings puffs, at full sprint. “I’m not dying on my face in a bear trap.”
We dash into the trees, weaving between Ursid’s pits. A reverberating howl makes my ears vibrate. The hunt is on and my mate’s nose is the enemy now. I’m so sorry, my love. You’ll understand later. I hope.
Wings strips off his clothes and I don’t even bother to look away. Recurrent nudity barely registers any more. A huge pair of wings open above me as he shifts into the eagle.
Another howl and it’s much nearer. Paws pound the dirt as Curt picks up my scent and tracks me into the trees. Wings’ claw wraps around my torso as my wolf hurtles through the undergrowth, saliva dripping from his maw. Eyes latch onto his prize as leaves and dirt spray into the air behind him.
“I’m sorry,” I yell as Wings flaps, straining upwards.
We clear the treetops and Curt skids to a halt, letting rip with a furious string of howls that suddenly cease. He’s staring up at me, snarling like I’ve betrayed him.
I suppose I have.
I know it’s only my imagination from this distance, but the anger in those big yellow eyes makes me go all weepy.
