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The Not So Daft Prince
The song winds down like a dying battery, strangling me as I catch my breath, stuck bending over with my arms locked in the C position. Wings’ goggle-eyed bewilderment floats directly into my eyeline, staring like I’ve gone stark raving mad – which I probably have.
I drag my eyes from his and let them roam over the frozen crowd, searching for Curt and Dulcis. I spot the younger first and straighten my body with a groan and a creak. My back’s sounding more and more like a haunted house these days.
Dulcis’ face pokes out of the snow, head upside down, gaze fixed on me. She’s lying on her back, legs in the air, body almost folded in half, tail lashing her own face. I wish I was that flexible. She flips over, finds her feet and romps in my direction, jowls flapping in the wind. She arrives at top speed, skidding to a stop in a shower of snow and dirt, rising up on her back legs and planting both front paws firmly on my shoulders, before slathering a leathery tongue over my cheek and rubbing her face against mine.
“Yuck. Stop,” I groan, spitting wolf hair out of my mouth before yelling, “Curt?”
A muted yip comes from the centre of the blood stained mess and I spot him as soon as he starts limping in my direction. He’s covered with claw gouges and a slash across his ear is bleeding.
“For pity’s sake, look at you,” I cry, bottom lip on terminal wobble, and rush over to him. I’m using the bottom of my sweater to stifle the bleeding, when I notice the tableau has begun shuffling on the spot. “Don’t any of you dare move,” I holler, right beside Curt’s ear and he whines. I rotate, staring them down. “What’s the matter with you all? Fighting like a drunken bunch of idiots.” I catch a grumble out of Ursid, whose massive backside sticks up in the air in a very undignified pose. “Don’t rumble at me, General. You’re supposed to be protecting that boy. Do you want him to die here? Adamo? Where are you?”
A soaking mass of filthy ginger fur pops up beside me, making me jump. He sort of squeaks and lays his massive head on my shoulder. I almost expect him to flutter his eyelashes at me. Curt lets rip with a snarling howl and I tap him on the nose. “That’s enough of that. Calm down.” He grumbles, sniffs and parks his backside on the snow with a thump, favouring his ailing hip.
“Alpha?”
A howl precedes the arrival of a mass of wild hair and gouges. He looks like he was dragged through an entire forest backwards, scared witless, then given a makeover from the local scarecrow.
“What the bleeding heck do you look like?” I splutter. “Right. Nobody – wolf, bear or great tit (said pointedly glaring at Wings) is going to move until we sort this out. You are not killing, clawing or biting anyone. Is that clear?”
Silence. Fidget. Shuffle.
“Is that clear?” I shriek. Curt whimpers again. “And stop whining.” He looks so miserable and downcast I could hug him, but I’m busy at the moment. “Are you really happy to fight without actually getting to the truth? General?”
Ursid’s rump end drops and the front rises up to peer at me. He looks so much like a villainous cartoon I want to giggle. It’s the stress.
“General,” I start, again, “do you really want to lose your boy?” His eyes swivel to the ginger bear and back to me. I point at Dulcis. “And do you really want to maim or kill her, knowing how young she is?”
Alpha and Curt both growl at Ursid simultaneously, then turn and snarl at each other. Sibling rivalry; that’s all we need right now. Teeth snap back and forth in tandem, egging on the wolves to start howling. Bears growl in response.
“SHUT UP!” I’ve had enough of feeding time at the zoo. “This is ridiculous. Change back so you can talk.”
They stare at one another, then at Alpha or Adamo, depending on whether they’re an idiot wolf or a stupid bear. Don’t even get me started about Wings, who keeps opening and closing plumage like he’s in a mating dance.
“I said, everybody change. NOW.”
Adamo and Dulcis are the first to morph, which means they get a jolly good eyeful of each other’s physique, albeit marred with some cuts and bruises.
“Are you alright?” he whispers.
“I’m fine,” she returns, massaging bruised ribs. “I’m sorry...”
“Me too.”
I struggle out of my leather coat and drop it around her shoulders, since her clothes still sit in the abandoned cart. I’m getting used to mass nakedness now, but it’s still pretty cold and I don’t like her being vulnerable.
The quivering bulk of naked Ursid rumbles forward and Alpha moves to intercept him.
“Just stand still a moment and talk,” I order, shrieking down my nasal passages. Sue me, I’m freezing and I just averted a war. For now. “I know you think you’re entitled to anger and revenge... How did this war between you start, anyway?”
Silence. Fidget. Shuffle. Part two.
“Lost your tongues? Someone speak to me.” I whirl around to face the prince and his head drops from my shoulder. “Adamo?”
“Why me?” he moans.
“Talk. Now.”
“Well, erm...” he stutters, staring at his bare feet to avoid my eyes. “It began a long time ago. Long before I was born. In the olden times. Before my grandfather. Even before Ursid was born...”
I catch another of Ursid’s sighs and the penny drops.
“You don’t know, do you?”
He glances up at me. “Well, not in so many words.”
“Not in any words.” I try someone less teenager. “General?”
Good grief, now he’s shuffling and staring across the plain.
“I believe it has something to do with the, er, land around the mountain,” he says, clearing his throat, twice. “It dates back many generations. My grandfather told me, when I was a cub, that it was about the trees, further up... the mountain.”
I interrupt him before I freeze to death out here. “Let me guess. You don’t know either.” I turn to the wolf contingent. Curt stares at his feet and Alpha busies himself trying to tame his frizzed hairdo.
“Don’t look at me,” offers Dulcis, laughing.
Wings holds my gaze, but says nothing.
“Let me get this straight,” I broadcast across the plain. “None of you have any idea what started this war.”
Every eye looks anywhere but at me. I can’t help it; hysteria bubbles up from my stressed stomach and leaps out of my mouth. Even the snakes can hear me guffaw, wherever the hell they’ve disappeared to. I haven’t laughed like this for years and it feels good.
“Alright,” Curt whines, after ten minutes of being lampooned, “we get it; we’re all idiots, but that doesn’t change the fact we want our wolves back.”
True. I gulp and snort, endeavouring to dampen down the hysterics. It creeps out between words, making me sound like I’m on laughing gas.
“Alpha, do you have wolves missing?” I ask, aiming at newscaster formality and hitting children’s TV presenter.
“We do,” he replies, voice low and resonant, “and the bears have them.”
“No, we don’t...” Adamo blurts out.
“Your Highness,” Ursid growls.
“General, don’t you think it’s time for the truth?” I interject. “Or shall we all go back to dying?”
“If the wolves are missing, we didn’t take them,” Adamo states, still staring down his General. His gaze swings to Alpha, labouring to ooze teenage sincerity from every exposed pore. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”
“Did you kidnap, imprison, kill or otherwise injure in any way the wolves?” I ask, summoning my best barrister impression.
“No, we did not,” Adamo answers, standing tall.
“Could any of your bears be doing it without your knowledge?” I probe.
Ursid answers for his prince. “No. I would know.”
“You sure?”
“I. Would. Know,” he rumbles, in a bass ‘don’t mess with me’ tone.
“And we also have bears missing,” Adamo reveals.
Now that’s a piece of interesting news I could have done with hours ago. I turn to Alpha, who snaps to attention, making me giggle again. Get a hold of yourself, Edi. “Did you kidnap, imprison, kill or otherwise injure in any way the bears?”
“No, we did not,” he replies, glancing at Ursid. “And I also would know.”
“So, do you believe each other?” I ask, gaze swinging between Adamo and Alpha.
“No,” Ursid and Curt retort, in unison, before glaring at each other.
“No-one asked you,” Alpha snaps at his brother. Curt crosses his arms over his naked chest and stares him down, until Alpha concedes. “But, alright, I’m not convinced, either. No offence, Prince. I might even like you, but I don’t trust you.”
“That’s fine,” Adamo chirps, bobbing up and down on his frozen heels. “I don’t trust you either.” He beams at Dulcis. “I like her, though.”
I’m sure he does. Back to the matter at hand.
“Why don’t you trust each other’s word?” I venture. “Because of what happened in the past?”
Alpha glances at his brother and I follow the gaze. My face must be asking the question, because Curt answers it.
“I trusted the word of a bear, once. Came alone in good faith to negotiate.” He glances at Wings. “Ignoring good advice. What I got was this.” He slaps his injured thigh.
There’s some poisoned water under this bridge. I rack my brain for something wise to say and settle for the unpalatable truth.
“I get what you’re saying Curt, I really do, but Adamo seems honourable to me.” Time to take a chance here. “General, did you approve of what happened back then, to Curt?”
Ursid looks away.
“General, please answer,” Adamo insists.
There’s another hefty sigh as a prelude to Ursid’s reply. “No. I advised your father to negotiate in good faith with the Alpha, er Curtus, but he wanted him dead. I told him that his actions were dishonourable. My reward was this scar.” He points at his face.
I repeat, who are these people?
My gaze flits between Alpha and Adamo. “So, you two sat through negotiations not believing a word the other said? How could that possibly work?”
“I rarely understand anything anybody says,” Adamo replies with a swift laugh.
Ursid sighs so hard his lips flap and a half smile flashes over Alpha’s face.
“Look, what if you are telling the truth, both of you?” I suggest. Here comes the bit they’re not going to like. “Could it be someone else taking your people?”
“Another wolf pack wouldn’t be able to hunt on my territory without me smelling them,” Alpha states, emphatically.
“Same,” says Adamo, lifting one hand as though he’s about to ask to go to the toilet. “I mean, no other bears.”
“Not what I meant,” I tell them. Come on guys, wise up. “What about eagles?”
Wings suddenly moves like he’s been hit by lightning and stamps over to stand at Alpha’s right hand, his gaze thrusting red hot daggers into my heart.
“Don’t glare at me Birdy; it’s a legitimate question.”
In the end, it’s Curt who answers it. “It couldn’t be the eagles.”
That’s not good enough.
“Why?”
“They all follow orders from King Serpen,” Ursid rumbles, “except your orphan there.”
The whatta? I follow his hand gesture to the shuffling figure of Wings. The orphan? How did he end up here, living with wolves and not his own kind? There’s a story there, but not for now.
“Exactly. Eagles all follow orders from the snakes.”
“What are you implying?” Alpha asks, his voice low and harsh.
You know exactly what I’m implying, but I’ll keep spelling it out for you.
“What did Serp, er the king tell you both?”
Adamo and Alpha exchange a confused glance.
“The king ordered us to move on,” Adamo answers, fidgeting on the spot.
“What does that mean?”
This time Alpha responds. “He told us not to talk about the missing, but to concentrate on a treaty.”
That’s crazy.
“Without addressing the main issue? What kind of diplomacy is that?” I can see I’m making my point by the look on Ursid’s face. He’s scowling so hard his jaw will crack. “Didn’t that strike you as odd?”
A chorus of shuffling feet sounds like tumbleweed blowing in desert wind. Everyone glances at everybody else and looks away.
“Precisely,” I announce, my voice echoing across the plain. Turning to Alpha, I ask, “What did he say to you, when you were on your own?”
He doesn’t reply, holding my gaze. I refuse to look away.
“I think we need to know, Alpha,” Curt insists, laying a hand on his bare shoulder. “Please, brother. I’m getting cold and my hip hurts... and my ear.”
Alpha twitches as though he’s going to smile, but he crushes it. “King Serpen spoke to me of the past treachery of the bears and told me I must work hard at overcoming it.”
“That’s what he said to me,” Adamo exclaims, glancing over at Ursid for back up. “Though he said it about the wolves.”
That’s clever. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough passive aggressive stirring to know it when I hear it.
“So, he manages to rile you both by bringing up mistrust and hatred, under the guise of pushing for peace.”
“No,” insists Adamo. “Well, I don’t... erm, Ursid?”
When the prince’s gaze pleads with him to make sense of confusion, the general looks straight at me and says, “Go on.”
“Where are they?” I ask, waving my hands. “I thought Serpen and Anguis left to catch up to the bears? Did they get bored and go home?”
“You’re saying the snakes are taking our people?” Alpha ventures, finally getting it.
“Yes. Well, maybe.” Now they’ve got me at it.
“Where was the last place your wolves were seen?” Adamo poses the question we should have started with. Good for him. Not so daft, after all.
“Today?” Alpha asks.
No. Last century. Of course, today, you twit. I hold my tongue, for once.
“Erm.” Alpha shuffles, then rallies. “Alright, they went to try and pick up your tracks coming down the mountain, to trace them back to the source.”
“I knew it,” Ursid growls. “I knew you’d have spies out hunting.”
Let me guess. That pack of bears I met were also out spying. I say nothing.
Adamo shushes his general. “So, if we assume they found those tracks, let’s all change and head up there.”
Another good idea. Ursid looks shocked. I’d guess the prince isn’t always the sharpest stick in the bundle.
Alpha stares at Adamo for a moment, before announcing, “Right, well, lead on then. Dulcis, you and Edi head back down.”
“Not a chance,” we both say. Exact same words at the exact same time. Spooky. Apparently we’re bonding.
“You’ll slow us down,” he insists.
“I can pull Edi in the cart,” Dulcis replies, staring him down. “And Uncle Curt is going.”
“I am?” he responds, eyebrows raised.
“You’ve got the best nose in the pack,” Alpha grinds out through gritted teeth. “As you well know.”
“Ask nicely,” Curt rumbles. “You called me a cripple.”
“In the words of your friend here, ‘Not a chance.’” Alpha drops his voice, but I’m close enough to catch his next words. “Can you make it up there? You know, the...” He waves in the vicinity of Curt’s hip.
“I live up there,” Curt points out, dryly.
Wings suddenly morphs back into a giant eagle and takes off in a flurry of plumage, purposely slapping me in the face as he passes. I spit out a feather, yelling something rude and unprintable at his retreating form, until I realise he’s headed in the direction of the abandoned cart. Sure enough, a squawk and the swish of runners announce his return, flying low above the snow, the guide rope held in his claws. Dulcis pulling on the cart was one thing, but I’m not sure I relish the idea of a sleigh ride with miserable Rudolph at the helm. Still, I’ve no choice, if I truly want to tag along.
Alpha calls to his pack, “Collect your clothes and stash them in the cart.”
A mob of naked blokes and ladies sprint across the plain, bits wobbling in the freezing wind and, yep, hysteria’s back. Curt grabs the clothes that fell out of the sky during his manic arrival, leaning on the cart to drop them inside.
“Did you get that lot off in mid air?” I ask. I’m joking; he’s clearly not a contortionist.
Curt makes two bird claw hands. “Me in one, clothes in the other,” he explains. A smile lights up his healing face. “By the way, what in Geldo’s name were you singing?”
“YMCA.”
“Why what?”
“Long story,” I tell him. I suddenly get an image of his wolf dressed as a cowboy and laugh. “I’ll teach it to you when we’ve got time. So if you’re ever in my world, you’ll fit right in.”
His smile falls away. “You still want to go back?”
There’s a question. Do I?
“I don’t know,” I reply, truthfully. “I’ve no idea how, even if I did want to.”
“You, er, have your other, waiting there,” he states and coughs, nervously.
“My what?”
He stuffs his hands in his armpits and shuffles, not meeting my gaze. “Your other, er, you know, your mate. Human male, or female, that you’re with.”
Oh, I get it; he’s fishing.
“No. No mate.”
He’s staring at his bare feet, but I catch a flash of his grin, before the naked wolf mob returns, flinging their soaking, sweaty clothes in the cart. I’m going to have to get in there. Yuck. Curt slaps me on the back with a wicked smile and morphs into the mangy old wolf, growling and shaking out his leg.
“Don’t look to me for sympathy,” I tell him, scrambling back into the cart and landing on the huge pile of clothes with a squelch and a puff of stink. At least, I’ll have a padded backside on the journey. Dulcis slips out of my leather coat and tosses it to me. It’s still in mid-air when the shiny wolf arrives, albeit a bit battered. All over the plain, wolves and bears reappear with a chorus of howls.
The general and his prince roar and bound across the plain, a scruffy Alpha in pursuit. Leaning out of the cart, I whisper in Curt’s furry ear, “If you get tired, you can get in with me and the trousers.” He snaps, puncturing two neat holes in the sleeve of my lovely leather coat, before letting rip with an ear splitting howl and limp running after the ginger bear, nose in the air.
Wings has already scraped up his own discarded clothes in his claws, plus a ton of dirt, and drops them straight on my head. I’m fighting my way out of his trousers when a hefty yank on the rope from my airborne pilot sends me on to my backside, yet again. The accompanying squawk sounds more like a raspberry.
