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Betrayed By My Own Cub
“Betrayed by my own cub!”
No sooner has King Serpen dangled into the distance, than the wolves all turn human and a stark naked, raging Alpha stampedes towards his shivering daughter, fists raised. I’m not about to witness abuse, so I wrap my arms around her, shielding her head. She looks more shocked by my actions than her father’s.
“What are you doing?” Alpha hollers, showering my face with spit.
We’ve established that my life hasn’t exactly been a shining light to anyone, but I can’t stand a man getting in my face or threatening women.
“Don’t you dare shout at me,” I scream back. My own spit must have hit him in the eye because he blinks repeatedly, as though he’s being electrocuted. “I’ll punch you on your stupid wolf nose.”
A snort comes from behind me: Curt finds that funny for some reason.
Dulcis’ muffled voice escapes my stranglehold. “He’d never hurt me, Edi. Not my father.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Alpha bellows. “I might lock you in your room for the rest of your life though.”
I might have a modicum of sympathy with that, but still.
“Take a step back, please,” I growl, doing my best cheesed off wolf impression.
Curt’s laughter gains traction. A stunned Wings stares back and forth like he’s at a tennis match.
Alpha obliges with a backward step, his glare swivelling to his cackling brother. “There’s nothing funny about any of this. Wolves are missing, maybe dead...” Crying starts up, presumably from the families of the missing. “I said maybe dead.” The families throw themselves into the snow, wailing. “Oh, for...” he sighs.
I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
“We’re going after the bears and getting our wolves back,” Alpha announces.
The wolf pack cheers. Curt’s mirth vanishes in a wave of concern. “We’re going to ignore the king? Are we prepared for that?”
“I’ll answer for my own actions,” Alpha snaps.
“Daddy...” Dulcis begins.
“Don’t you Daddy me. You betrayed me and your own pack for a pretty bear you’ve barely met.”
Say what?
“Weren’t you the one aiming to sell her off to him?” I point out. “She didn’t want you murdering him in her front room.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion,” is his rude response.
“Well, you’re getting it anyway,” I shout back. “And someone’s going to get frostbite soon if we don’t go inside.” With that, I march in the direction of the mansion, kicking this blasted sodden dress out in front of me, hauling a jogging Dulcis. When I reach the threshold, I look back, yell, “Put some bloody clothes on, the lot of you,” and slam the front door.
* * *
Given the direction things are heading, I decide I’m better off not parading around in a soaking wet plunge dress and I shove Dulcis up the stairs to her bedroom. Praise God, despite the front door being left wide open, it’s still toasty in the mansion and my extremities start to thaw out.
Thankfully some clothes were transferred from Granny’s room before the snakes arrived, so I’m performing calisthenics trying to undo the buttons on the back of my dress, whilst simultaneously laying out more comfortable and practical trousers and jumper.
“Thank you for standing up for me,” Dulcis says, pushing my hands away and undoing the buttons.
“That’s not to say I agree with you,” I reply, holding still so she doesn’t have to chase me around the room. “Or your father, for that matter.” The dress slips from my shoulders, landing in a puddle around my feet. “And put some clothes on, girl.”
I turn to grab a warm pair of knickers, only to find the previous conservative pair have somehow been replaced with a fluorescent pink wool and lace abomination that stretches half way down my thigh.
“What do you think then?” she asks, disappearing inside her closet with a snigger.
“I don’t know the situation that well,” I reply, by way of a cop out explanation.
Her head pokes out of the closet. “That’s never stopped you before.”
Cheeky mare. She’s right though.
“I didn’t want to see a pile of bodies either,” I answer, more truthfully, “so I probably would have done what you did, but that doesn’t mean we’re right. What will happen now?”
I’m expecting a nightgown or a variation on pyjamas, but she emerges in hunting leathers and layers of wool. I’m immediately suspicious.
“I know my father,” she says, bouncing her bottom on the bed. “He won’t change his mind.”
“So, there’ll be a fight anyway? Despite what Serpen said?”
She flings herself flat on her back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. “I don’t know what to do. It’s not just my father; the pack are all my family. But Adamo seemed so...”
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence before my sympathy kicks in, despite a healthy dose of cynicism. “Yes, I get that he’s ginger and cute, but he’s still their prince. Although, maybe he doesn’t know what’s happening.”
She sits bolt upright, like a vampire from a coffin. “General Ursid?”
I consider it, but I rather like the old bear. “Maybe,” I concede, “but something tells me not. Can’t prove it, but he seems honourable.” I park myself beside her on the bed and lower my voice as though walls have ears. “It’s Serpen that gives me the creeps. I wouldn’t trust him further than I could throw him.”
Dulcis glances at the door, feeding my paranoia. “Don’t say things like that, Edi. It’s... dangerous.”
A massive thump shakes the room and we both jump. Another humungous door slam vibrates through the walls. Someone’s clearly making the point that they’re upset. Following the attempted removal of the door from its hinges, footsteps stomp down the stairs. I can’t hear a limp, so I guess that’s not Curt.
“Think about this.” That’s his voice though. “Don’t go off without thinking things through.”
“We’re leaving now.” Alpha, and he sounds angry.
Dulcis is up and out the door before I can stand up. My legs ache from all that dancing and milling about in the snow and by the time I coax my limbs into the hallway, she’s half way down the stairs.
“I don’t trust the bears, but the snakes even less,” Curt insists.
Alpha won’t even look at his brother. “We have to go now, before we lose the scent of the bears and can’t track them to their camp.”
“Listen to me, Parco...”
Alpha’s gaze snaps onto his brother’s face with a snarl. “I’m the pack Alpha. Parco is dead; you made sure of that.”
“That’s not fair,” Curt yells back, grabbing his brother’s shoulders. “You know I didn’t have any choice. Mother...”
Alpha throws the half embrace off with such vigour that Curt staggers.
“Damn our bloody mother. You could have fought her. You knew I didn’t want to be Alpha and you limped off, up your mountain, tail between your legs, not even sticking around to help me. And now you want to give advice. Too late brother. Way too late.”
My mouth opens before the words pass through my brain. “I’m with Curt,” I yell over the banister. “I don’t trust Serpen either.”
“Why are you still here?” Alpha spits out, glaring up at me.
I start down the stairs. “Look, something’s going on here.”
“Yes,” he bellows, making my sore ears ring, “my pack has lost wolves. I’m their Alpha and I’ve done nothing to stop it. Enough. I need to get my people back. If they’re dead, then we make the bears pay.”
“All you’ll get is a heap of dead fur,” I snap. “That’s crazy.” Diplomacy was never my gift.
“It’s none of your business,” he correctly observes. “Leave my home and my pack and take my brother with you.”
“If you’re set on this course, brother, I’ll join the pack in battle,” Curt announces.
Precisely what I don’t want to hear. I’m racking my brain for an excuse that doesn’t sound like I’m casting aspersions on his fitness, when Alpha beats me to it.
“I don’t need cripples in the pack.”
Ouch. That was savage and, from the look on Curt’s face, wounded exactly the way it was meant to.
“If you want to stay here,” Alpha continues, twisting the knife, “take care of the cubs and my daughter; if you still have any honour.”
“I’m not staying here,” Dulcis insists, sounding like she’s been gargling with gravel, hands clamped on her hips.
Alpha’s face darkens as he strides towards her, hollering, “You’ll do what I tell you.” Frankly, he looks scary and even Dulcis backs up a step before stubborn pride makes her rally.
“Why? Because you don’t trust me?”
“No, I don’t,” he shouts, and her face falls past her knees. “But also, because if I die, you’ll be Alpha in situ until the pack decides.”
That collapses her bubble. “Daddy,” she mumbles, reaching out for him, but he backs away.
“I’m pack Alpha and I will be obeyed. Go back to your room,” he growls, pointing at me, “and take her with you.” He stares me full in the face. “Unless you want to go back out in the snow?”
A host of smart arse remarks leap into my head, but I clamp down on them. Now’s not the time to get drop-kicked through the doorway.
“Wings,” Alpha yells.
A miserable, downcast birdman seems to materialise out of the walls. I had no idea he was lurking back there.
“Alpha?”
“Stay with Curt.”
That shocks them both and they each glare as though the other is to blame.
Alpha strides past Wings, pausing only to whisper, “Protect my cub,” before sweeping out into the night. He might as well have broadcast it; we all heard him. Dulcis races after her father, but her uncle grabs her arm and swings her around to face him.
“No, Dulcis.”
“We can’t let him die,” she yells, trailing off with a whimper.
Curt pulls her into his arms, holding her face against his shoulder. “He’s strong. He won’t die. He’ll find our wolves and bring them back. The bears won’t win.”
Dulcis yanks free of his embrace and lets rip with a tear-flooded, gurgling, high-pitched wail that reminds me of a drowning chihuahua. She races back upstairs, along the hallway, straight past her own door and disappears inside her granny’s dressing room with a mighty slam of the door. That runs in the family, apparently.
“Curt,” I begin.
“I’m going back to my lodge,” he snaps. “You can stay here, or go wherever you want. I don’t care.”
“We can’t just let them fight,” I insist. “Can’t we try and make it stop? Get them to talk again?”
“THE BEARS DON’T WANT TO TALK,” he bellows.
That’s the first time he’s ever scared me and I stumble backwards. He grabs a goblet and hurls it at the painting of the cold eyed lady. I guess his mother just got a face full of wine and a hefty tear.
“Curt, please. Wait,” I stutter, nerves still jangling.
He turns his back on me and limps off into a side room, rattling the door posts. That just leaves Wings, giving me the stink eye.
“Don’t be glaring at me,” I tell him. “None of this is my fault.”
“Leave him alone,” the bird says, loosing a deep sigh. “You’re not doing him any good.”
“And you are? Standing around glaring at everyone? How does that help him? You all left him up that mountain. Why didn’t you beg him to come home?”
“I did,” he shouts. Wings slowly lowers himself into one of the few unbroken chairs, wiping a palm across his wrinkled forehead. “I did. Over and over. Pleading with him to come back to his family. But he wouldn’t listen.” His gaze drops to his feet as he mutters, “He hates me now.”
“What could you have possibly done to make him hate you? You didn’t tear a lump out of his hip.”
“I didn’t want him to go.”
“I know. You all...”
“To the meeting with the bears. I knew they couldn’t be trusted, but he was Alpha and tired of fighting. He wanted it to end, so he trusted in their honour and went alone. He didn’t tell Parco he was going, only me, and made me promise not to follow. If I had... If I’d disobeyed my Alpha... my boy... I could have flown him out of there at the first sign of betrayal. It was all my fault. And now another Alpha is heading into peril.”
“None of this is your fault,” I insist, “but we have to deal with what we’ve got, right now.” Wings’ head comes up, eyes staring at me as I continue. “I don’t want Curt going back up the mountain to be alone, and neither do you. Talk to him. Tell him what you told me. Tell him you need him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better see to her highness before she gets wet rot from crying.”
That was inappropriate, but I’m scared for everyone, so sue me.
On my way upstairs, I glance out of the window and grind to a halt. Dozens of men and women stomp through the snow, heading into the treeline, following disappearing bear tracks. For a closet feminist, I’m still surprised to see women in the battle pack, but then I expect they’ll fight as wolves, with every bit the strength of their male counterparts. I can’t help but wonder how many will return unscathed.
And what of the snakes? Serpen doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.
Wondering how I ended up digging myself so deeply into this story, I turn away with a sigh. No amount of anxiety will help them now. I’ll check on Dulcis, then try and make Curt and Wings grunt a few words at me. Tapping on granny’s door receives only silence in reward.
“Dulcis?” I knock harder and longer, trying to annoy her into answering. It works.
“Go away,” she growls.
I turn the door knob, but it doesn’t budge. She must have locked the door.
“Dulcis, let me in.” Surprise, surprise, that doesn’t work.
“I want to be on my own for a while,” she snarls, sounding like a teenage girl having a meltdown. Which she is.
“Fine, I’ll be back later,” I announce.
Back in the bubblegum bedroom, I throw myself flat on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I’m putting off finding Curt again, not because I don’t want to talk to him, but because something’s niggling at my brain that I just can’t pinpoint.
Is it Curt? He’s acting like an insulted, discarded brother with a limp. Which he is. Although I pity him and feel his anguish, that’s not the source of the squiggly brainworm.
Miserable, po-faced Wings? Nope. He’s acting like a guilt ridden, heartsore nanny. Which he is.
Dulcis? I sit up again, clutching my knees to my chest. My back soon hurts, so I let go. What’s bothering me? She’s upset about Adamo, wounded that her father doesn’t trust her and worried about them both. So far, so natural. What’s not right?
Oh look, maybe I don’t know her at all. We’ve barely met for pity’s sake. Let her alone in her room to whimper.
Tap, tap.
I know that knock. Sure enough, there he is: Mr G peering through the glass, rubbing his paws together, apparently able to locate free food whatever room it’s in. I open the window and this time the gumwhat scuttles inside, parking himself on the dressing table, large as life, not scared of me at all. He might be an ugly dude, but the attitude reminds me of Dulcis.
And there it is.
She’s in Frozen Hell’s dressing room, crying? Really? That gurgling wail, aimed at her uncle, was a bit too melodramatic. I know she’s emotional, but she’s also her father’s daughter and there’s no way she would lock herself away and let him...
It comes to me in a flash; she’s doing a runner.
Not without me, she’s not.
I grab my leather coat and rush out onto the landing. Repeated hammering on granny’s door produces no response and the door’s still locked. She must have a secret way out, through that OCD closet, I’d guess.
I juggle with the idea of fetching Curt or Wings, but decide to head her off first. She’s no doubt nimble and could be long gone in moments. Thankfully, I know the fast route down the back staircase and I land with a thud at the bottom, flinging open the door. An icy cold blast of swirling wind plays havoc with my ballroom coiffeur and freezes exposed ears. No sooner have I struggled forward two steps than I spot a damp pile of clothes lying in the snow. The woollen jumper on the top feels partly dry, so she’s not been naked long. I could go searching, but I’m pretty sure I’d be looking for a dark wolf in a pitch black forest, so I resort to hollering, “Dulcis. Dulcis, I know you’re out...”
A furry wall smacks into me, knocking me flat. Snow takes the brunt of the hit, but the air vacates my lungs in a whoosh, leaving me struggling for breath with a massive paw pressing on my chest and two rows of teeth chomping in my face. I get the hint and thump on her paw. She backs up, her head swinging from side to side, searching for anyone who heard me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sitting upright and brushing muck off my chest.
I get a growl and a rumble in response. I know exactly what she’s saying.
“I get you want to go with your father, but I’m coming with you.”
She growls and shakes her head.
Forget it, Fairy. I can be just as stubborn as you. “Then I’m fetching your Uncle Curt and Wings.”
She snarls right in my face and gets a slap on her shiny nose for her efforts.
“Don’t be showing your teeth to me, girl. I’ve faced down nastier blokes than you.” Unfortunately, I’m not lying. “I’m coming, or you’re not going.”
It’s about now you’re probably wondering what the heck I’m doing. I know I am. The thing is, I feel responsible for her. No idea why, but I do.
She whines, pads in a circle and grabs hold of my sleeve in her teeth, hauling me forward.
“Don’t rip that,” I moan. “I get it; follow you.”
She spits out the leather and jogs in the direction of a small wooden hut that I’m seriously hoping isn’t a toilet. I grab her clothes and shuffle after her, dredging through snow drifts and wondering how I’m ever going to keep up, when I spot Curt’s empty cart inside the hut and the penny drops.
“Won’t Curt follow us anyway?” I point out, scrambling into the back.
She holds her back leg off the snow and limps. I get the drift; he won’t be able to keep up. She grabs a drooping rope, lashed to the front, clamping it between her teeth. Her lithe muscles ripple and tighten as she hauls the cart from the hut, cutting tracks through the snow.
Once we’re on the move, she picks up speed, dragging her passenger into the treeline and weaving us between the trunks and bare branches. I pop my head up and, with a sinking heart, watch the flickering lights from the village fade into the night.
