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“What’s happening?” yells Curt, again.
“I don’t... They can’t be... Wings?” I stammer, heart leaping into my throat. I clutch the book, begging, “Do something. Please.”
Curt must have heard me because the tree judders as he climbs, calling up, “I’m coming. Almost there. Tell me what happened.”
“Big flash and bang. Castle went boom. Wings. Gulid. Carrying Kit. Can’t see them anymore. They’re gone.”
There’s a grunt, a rustle of leaves and his arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me back against his chest and clamping me in place. His warm proximity opens the floodgates and tears pour out of flash burnt eyes, staring at nothing but a smog of devastation.
“I’m here,” Curt whispers, gently rocking me whilst the branches resonate in sympathy. “We should climb down.”
“I can’t see them,” I whimper. “Can you see them?”
“Not yet,” he replies. “It’s dark and smoky. Give them time. They’ll come.”
“Curt, have I killed them?”
“You haven’t killed anyone. This isn’t your fault.”
“I’m the Storyteller; of course it’s my fault.”
“If the cat’s right, I’m only real because of you.” He squeezes me so hard, the DreamWay’s spine cracks. “I’ve known Wings my whole life. He’s a tough old bird and that cat’s as mad as a dancing bear. They’ll be here any moment.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
“You better. Come on, let’s climb. By the time we get down, they’ll be back. Give me the book.”
I reluctantly relinquish the DreamWay. He tucks it inside his shirt and dangles a leg towards the branches below, masking a wince of pain.
“Mind your hip,” I tell him, sliding beneath the branch I’m clinging to.
“I think that bird made it worse,” Curt replies, his head dropping below the leaves. “He pulled it out of its socket.”
I make my way through the branches, following my wolf, who takes every single opportunity to massage my bum cheeks on the pretext of helping me down.
“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” I tell him, peering down as I practically sit on his palms.
His eyes shine in the gloom as he chuckles. Mirth shuts off with a sudden ‘ooft.’
“I’ve found the ground,” he calls up. “Stay still ‘til I test if it’s safe.” He disappears, leaving me alone with the odd sound of scuffling for company. After a moment, his head pops back under the branches. “We’re on a rock ledge, but there’s room, so down you come.”
I edge through the lower branches until Curt’s hands wrap around my waist and I allow him to lift me. As soon as my feet touch down, he flips me up into his arms and carries me out from under the tree onto a ledge of jagged rock. Our birds finding a solitary patch of earth this high up the mountain, supporting one tree, was nothing short of a miracle. My fingertips gently caress the leaves in a silent thank you to our lone saviour.
Cold wind rifles through my hair and I cuddle closer to my wolf, peering over his shoulder at the thick cloud of smoke, still billowing from the mountaintop. The superheated blue flames rapidly burnt themselves out, plunging what must now be a ruin into complete camouflage against the night sky. Only the intermittent thud and crack of tumbling stone pierces the silence. There’s still no sign of the eagles and a cat. I can’t believe they’re gone. I won’t believe it.
“Wings,” I cry out. “Kit. Gulid.”
The names echo across the mountains in ghostly whispers. Curt gently kisses my forehead and I tuck my face into his neck to dampen the sobs clawing their way out of my chest.
A screech pierces the night. We both peer into the darkness, willing the source to be our beloved eagle and not an enemy spy.
Shriek. Honk.
Gulid emerges from the cloud of smoke, wings straining, his claws clamped around the front paws of a floppy tigerlion. A heart stopping moment later, my old friend flaps into view, hauling the cat’s rear end.
“Down. Put me down,” I insist, wriggling in Curt’s arms. He obliges and as soon as my feet hit the rock, we both leap up and down, waving our arms. I know there might be other eagles flying around, but at this point I don’t care.
Covered in layers of ash, our eagles resemble giant ravens as they strain and wobble, dropping lower and lower with their burden. Please let Kit be unconscious, not dead. They’ve sunk beneath the ledge when a final effort brings them to our level. Kit lands at our feet in a pile of floppy limbs, showering us with ash. Both filthy eagles squawk, stagger and lean against one another on juddering legs. My poor boys have all had a traumatic night.
“Wings,” I sob, stumbling over to the eagle and flinging my arms around him. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Gulid shuffles sideways, but I thrust out an arm and wrap it around his feathery neck, squeezing him into a group hug.
“You took your time,” says Curt, with a wide grin of relief.
Whilst the eagles change into naked blokes, I turn my attention to the tigerlion, still spark out on the rocks.
“Kit. Kit,” I moan, hurling myself down beside him and cradling his massive, soot coated head on my lap. “Wake up. Please. Is he dead? Why won’t he wake up?” My gaze shoots around the three shuffling men surrounding this tragic tableau. “Kit, please wake up. I can’t do this on my own. Please.”
Pressing my palm against Kit’s furry chest detects no heartbeat, so I shuffle down in front of his mouth to feel any outward breath, my hands scratching behind his ears as a single sob escapes my lips.
A nose, whiskers and mouth stretch forwards and press against my face in a sooty smooch as his eyelids flicker open. “Hellllllo,” he rumbles in a slightly suggestive manner.
“Hello,” growls Curt, leaning down and tapping a fingernail on a sabre tooth.
My aching body groans as I sit up, but Kit shuffles and drops his head back into my lap with a yawn, releasing a puff of soot. His eyes close.
“Has he passed out again?” asks Gulid.
“I’m tired,” mumbles the cat, eyes still shut.
“You should have that lump land on you,” Gulid grumbles, pointing at Curt.
“Thank you, Gulid. Thank you, Wings,” I say, glancing at the naked guys, keeping my gaze well up. “You saved our lives.”
“As did I,” mutters Kit.
“As did you,” I agree, stroking his head. He snuggles into my lap with a sigh.
“When you threw her off the terrace, you knew Wings was coming, right?” Curt asks.
One eye opens and peers up at him. “Of course. I’m a mage,” says Kit, with the same expression I used to get when asking who’d stolen my sandwich out of the office fridge. In any event, there are more important things to worry about than my recent parachuteless jump.
“Kit, I’m sorry to ask, but can you still send the serpents away? Have you used all your magic?”
“The magic is not mine and true magic never fails,” he mutters. “But my energy is expended, for now. It’ll return if I rest.”
Curt taps on the other sabre tooth. “For how long?”
“I’ll be fine,” Kit breathes, his words slurring. “Just need a... little nap...” And with that, he begins snoring like my Great Aunt Ermentrude, or Curt after a few too many drinks.
“Kick him,” says Gulid.
“I am not kicking him,” I snap. “He saved us. And it won’t do any good, if he’s out of energy.”
“We can’t stay here,” Curt points out.
“He’s right,” Gulid agrees. “That flash must have been seen in the valley. The eagles might be headed straight for us.”
“Can you get us back to the pack?” Curt asks.
“You want to lead the serpents to your pack?” squawks Gulid, horrified.
“It’s a long story,” I tell him, “but I need to hide Sospa and Serpen in my world before Kit magics the rest away.”
“Your world? Right,” says Gulid, straightening his back like a soldier on parade. “I can get you back, especially if you promise to leave, but what about snoring sleepy?”
“Take Kit to Alpha,” I announce, sliding out from under the slumbering cat and resting his head gently on the rock. “Gulid, you tell him what’s happening and to hide Kit ‘til we get there. And find Serpen and Sospa. Wings, you come back for us.”
“My wings will snap off,” grumbles Gulid, raising his eyes to heaven. “He’s heavy. And my claws ache.”
“We all ache,” says Wings, “but it’s better than being dead or mesmerised, so stop moaning and save your breath.” He grabs me by the neck and leans in. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He transforms into his eagle and shrieks at Gulid, who changes after one more eyeroll.
“Don’t get caught,” I tell the pair as they grasp Kit’s paws and take to the air. Curt wraps an arm around me as we watch them, wavering up and down with their burden until they fade into the night.
“So here we are,” I say, with a sigh. “In the dark, waiting to get ourselves killed, again. Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
“And miss the mould demon and the great castle fire?” Curt jokes. “And I got to fly.”
“Did you jump, Wolfie?”
“Course not,” he lies.
A wave of tiredness washes over me and I sag against him.
“We should rest,” Curt says, grunting as he manoeuvres himself into a sitting position and pulls me down beside him. I settle into his arms and lean my head on his shoulder as we stare at the billowing smoke, masking the collapsed castle.
“How’s your hip?” I ask.
“Hurts,” he replies. “But not as much as landing on Gulid. You?”
“This will play havoc with my sciatica, but I’m still here, with you, so I’m fine. When we went over the edge, I thought that was it.”
“Hmmm,” he hums and kisses me, again and again.
I’ve no idea how much time passes, but when we finally come up for air, the smoke is dissipating, revealing the glowing ruins of the Snake Empire.
“Do you think the mould’s dead?” I ask.
“I hope so,” Curt replies. “We could get Mama to pour Mould Throttler over what’s left of the castle. That stuff stinks.”
“So does your wolf, when he’s wet.”
“Oh really?” he splutters, fingers heading in for a ticklefest. We try a quick roll on the rocks, but it’s too hard and lumpy, so we settle for another snog.
A piercing snap and rolling rumbles break us out of the embrace, just as what remains of the castle tumbles down the mountain.
“Won’t be needing the Mould Throttler,” says Curt.
“I used to love mountains,” I mutter. “So romantic. Wanted my honeymoon there.”
“Your what?”
“Honeymoon. It’s a sort of holiday you go on after a wedding.”
“You’re telling me this now?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I reply. I really didn’t, since my wolf was all I wanted.
“I could have taken you somewhere nice,” he says, giving my left breast a quick squeeze.
“Do you know anywhere nice?” I ask, raising a mocking eyebrow.
“I know lots of nice places,” Curt insists. “They might be a bit damp, but they’re pretty.”
“Do they have a toilet?”
He snorts and points at the ruin. “You know, if you’d stayed with Anguis, you’d be sitting here, watching your home burn down. Again.”
A chuckle warms my chest and I kiss him. “To be honest, Mange, all I’ve ever wanted was you. Even before I got here, you were my dream wolf.”
His kiss is so deep, I feel it in my toes. Even the sciatica gives up and melts.
“Mind you,” I say, catching my breath. “I’d like a new lodge. With a spiral staircase and a lovely carved rocking chair. And toilet plumbing, of course, but I know you have your limits. And a little house for Mr G. And a library. I’d like a library.”
“We’ve only got one book,” he says, tapping on the DreamWay inside his shirt.
“You’d better give that to me.” I hold out my hand, expectantly.
“No,” he replies, emphatically, pulling his collar up around his neck. “As long as I’ve got it, you have to stay with me. No sneaking off to Ert without me.”
“Earth.”
“I know.” He leans back on his hands. “I might like it there and not want to come back. Maybe I can learn to sing Why Am I Senile?”
“For the last time, it’s YMCA, and you won’t like it there.” My smile soon fades.
“What?” he asks, always knowing when my mind wanders to painful places. “Tell me.”
“Are we doing the right thing?” I ask. “You and Wings nearly died and the night isn’t over. We could have sent the serpents away. You told me to do it. Maybe I should have.”
“Neither of us would have been able to live with it,” Curt replies. “And my aunt would have bitten my head off. She loves that little serpent. Don’t tell her I told you. Besides, you’re right. I don’t want to lead a pack that sacrifices a child to save itself. What would that teach those left?”
“Like Beetus.”
“Or Dulcis’ pup.”
“I really want to see that child born,” I whisper.
“We will,” Curt replies. “I promise you, we’ll be back for that.”
“How do you know?”
“You’ll get us home,” he says. “You don’t like it on Ert.”
“I like the toilets.”
Curt laughs and looks back at the disappearing ruin. A brief moment of silence is broken by my gentle humming.
“That’s nice,” Curt says, with a smile. “What’s that?”
“Lullaby,” I reply. “My mother used to sing it to me, when I was little.”
“Wings used to sing to me, but it didn’t sound like that. Made me howl.” Grunting, he rises and holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“Big softy.”
I settle into his arms and we gently sway to my humming. He soon picks up the simple tune and joins a few base notes to the music. It’s so heavenly, I almost forget where we are. I don’t care if I’m the Storyteller, the Chosen One or the Greatest Troublemaker, he’s my mate. The music eventually fades away, but our dance continues through the night.
We’re still rotating when a squawk tears us apart. It can’t be Wings approaching; there’s no way he could have flown down the valley and back. The eagle lands and struts towards us, changing without breaking stride.
“You’re back too soon,” Curt says. “What happened?”
“The cat recovered and told us to drop him just ahead of the serpents, so I could get back to you. He’s running down the valley. Gulid’s gone ahead to find Alpha. The serpents are on the move and all the eagles are returning. Getting back will be nasty.” He peers at Curt. “Do you want me to leave her somewhere safe?”
“No!” I exclaim. “Don’t you dare. I have to do this now, or we’ll never be free of them.”
Curt peers at me before turning to Wings. “We stay together and see it through.”
“Alright.” Wings nods in agreement. “I’ll circle round to avoid them for as long as I can, but they’ll be swarming in the valley.”
“Let’s go and I love you both.” With that statement, I hold out my arms to be lifted.
Curt kisses me hard and mirrors my arms.
“You’re nothing but trouble, the pair of you,” says Wings and changes back into his eagle.
Claws wrap around us and we rise up into the night. May it not be our last flight.
