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A Wolf So Grim and Mangy. Or Not
I glance through the window, catching a glimpse of bear and wolf cubs rolling around in the snow, play grappling with each other under the watchful eyes of nervous parents. The children seem happily devoid of the years of animosity hampering previous generations. It’ll take time, effort and a lot of patient forgiveness, but the furry packs will get there. The plight of the snakes may not be so straightforward.
Our spirits rose as we headed towards the bottom of the mountain and the distant village came into sight. I caught a glimpse of Curt’s lodge as I rolled past on the sled and was tempted to leave the pilgrimage behind and nestle on his waiting rocking chair. From the wistful look that passed over the wolf’s face, I suspect Curt entertained the same thought, but neither of us moved.
When we reached the valley floor, a smoking bonfire, a large tent and a row of men and women stood between the new arrivals and their approach to the village. All our mould tainted clothes, blankets and sleds were to be burned before we would be allowed to proceed, even Sospa’s furry bear. She wanted to scream and protest but, like the ruler she’ll one day be, she held her peace for the sake of her scared, shivering people and handed it over, a large tear dripping off the end of her nose as he burned. A changed Curt promised to make her a new one out of wool, which gained him a hug.
Upon arrival in the village, we found elderly wolves already busy tending to dying snakes, flown into their care by Wings. That exhausted bird is still asleep, by the way, snoring contentedly in his room, oblivious to the comings and goings of three new roomies, he’s yet to meet. No doubt we’ll hear from him when he wakes up, but for now, all’s peaceful.
It’s gloriously warm inside Alpha’s main lodge, with fires roaring day and night. Most of the upper rooms are filled with the chronically sick, whose coughing and heaving breath is hard to listen to. The warmth eases some symptoms, but many are simply being loved and cared for until they pass away. The children sing to them in the afternoon and, if they want, I tell them stories as I hold their hands. Anguis mourns the loss of every single one.
Here in the main hall, I’m watching the snake children playing guessing games with a bandaged Curt. They’re all staying inside, out of the cold, until they heal, on the strict orders of Mama Bear. Not even General Ursid dare argue with the self appointed matron.
“No, that’s not a snake, that’s a toad,” Sospa tells Curt, shrieking with laughter.
“Oh, a toad,” replies Curt, pretending to be an idiot. “They fly, right?”
All the children guffaw.
“No? Do they sing? Wait, I know, they burp, like this.” And he lets rip with a disgusting belch that draws Mama Bear’s mock frown of disapproval. Curt and Sospa sit up straight, arm in arm, noses in the air, like the King and Queen of The Lodge, which makes me grin. Her little face crumples when she glances across the hall at her uncle: the ghoul of Wolf Hall. The former king sits frozen in the rocking chair, staring at his feet all day, every day, refusing to speak to anyone, even Anguis or Sospa.
Mama Bear follows the princess’s sad stare. Harrumphing with annoyance, she marches from the room as though on a mission. This could get interesting. Sure enough, she soon returns, carrying a large bowl of steaming broth and thrusts it underneath Serpen’s nose. He doesn’t look up. She tuts, takes a few steps back and halts, her chest heaving with a great sigh. She drags a chair directly in front of him.
“Look at me, please,” she whispers, low enough to avoid being heard by the children. He glances up through uncombed locks, his once fastidious appearance abandoned. “You need to eat something. It’s not so bad here. You’re warm. Your people are in good care. Can’t you try to eat a little, for them?” His eyes drop again.
Glancing at Sospa, still playing with Curt, I have a brainwave and pull my chair next to the king. “Your Majesty, who was...?”
“I’m not your anything,” he snaps, without looking up. “The king is dead.”
“The king may be,” I counter, “but Serpen isn’t and neither is his niece. Is she the daughter of your sister or brother?”
“Sister,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “Lei was my younger sister. She died of the sickness.”
“I’m so sorry, but what would Lei want now? What would she say to you, if she was here? Would she want you to give up like this, or take care of her daughter?”
His shoulders shake and silent tears splash onto the floor. Mama Bear, with zero sense of propriety and a heart the size of the sun, throws both arms around him, delivering a bone-crushing bear hug. To everyone’s surprise, he doesn’t squirm or push her away, instead burying his head on her ample shoulder and weeping, whilst she rocks him back and forth.
Sospa jumps to her feet, but Curt catches her as she races past, holding her tight. “Let him cry for a while,” he tells the girl. She peers at her uncle, then drops onto Curt’s lap, her arms around his neck.
The front door opens with a blast of cold air as Anguis and Alpha enter, halting as they catch sight of the distraught former king held in a woman’s smothering embrace. They fumble into seats at the table, staring with disbelief.
“It’ll do him good,” I say, sliding into the seat next to Anguis, ignoring Curt’s following gaze. “How are your people doing?”
“The pack’s doing well, adjusting to snake housemates better than we thought,” Alpha replies, smiling at Sospa plaiting Curt’s grey hair. “Especially the children.”
“Adamo’s sent Ursid to talk to the main bear pack and they’re on the way down,” Anguis adds. “Some of the stronger snakes can camp with them, to relieve the crush. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Our treatment is more than I could ever have hoped for.”
“Pity you didn’t trust us earlier,” Curt calls out and gets a slap on the head from the mini princess for his efforts.
His brother laughs. “You stretch that hip out.”
Curt grumbles as Mama Bear looks up from her tear sodden charge. “Don’t make me come over there and take care of you,” she threatens.
He immediately stretches out his leg with a wince and a whine. In response to his pain, Sospa hugs his neck so hard I expect it to crack.
“How’s the sickness?” Alpha asks.
“Better already, for some,” Anguis replies, watching the children yawn and curl up in front of the fire for a nap, contented sighs punctuated by the odd cough. “Others I already knew would not survive the journey. There’s no more to be done than you are doing.”
“How do you feel?” I ask him.
“Strange. Cut adrift,” he replies, with refreshing honesty. “Worried for the future, but hopeful too.”
Alpha leans back in his chair, resting a knee against the table. “When the snows melt, we’ll head back up the mountain and chop down a tree break. Hopefully that will stop the sickness spreading from the castle.”
“I wish I’d burned it down when I had the chance,” Anguis says, leaning his forehead against interlocked fists. “I was a fool. I’ll go back when I can.”
I gently lay my fingers over his knuckles and he looks up. “You’re not going anywhere. Leave it to rot on its own. We need you here.”
Anguis’ gaze meets mine. Curt detaches Sospa from around his neck and struggles to his feet.
“I’m going for my walk,” he mutters and limps towards the door.
“Put your coat on,” Mama Bear hollers at Curt, patting Serpen on the back as though she’s burping a baby with colic. “And your gloves, hat and scarf. And don’t overdo it.”
Curt robes up, grunting with annoyance at every piece of artic wear, glares at Anguis and slams the door. A sudden whoosh announces an avalanche of snow descending from the roof which, by the vehemence of wolvish swearing, fell straight on Curt’s head.
Sospa skips over and tugs on my sleeve until I lean my head forward. “I think you should go with him,” she whispers in my ear. I think you’re right, wise girl.
Tugging on my new woollen coat and gloves, I catch up with the snow coated misery on his medicinal circuit of the bustling village.
“What do you want?” he grumbles, barely glancing at me.
“That’s charming,” I reply, tongue firmly in cheek. “I’m sure Wings taught you to be more polite than that.”
“Have you met that old bird?” he shoots back, swallowing a smirk.
We’ve completed a circuit of the inner village before he speaks again.
“You staying then?”
“Maybe,” I reply. “Possibly... Probably. I don’t know.” I’ve gone weirdly tongue tied all of a sudden and my hand pats the book that lives in a giant inner pocket of my coat. I haven’t been able to let it out of my sight yet, despite the hefty weight of carting it around.
Speaking of my sight, I spot Adamo and Dulcis on the opposite side of the village, marching through the snow. Well, she’s stomping, wildly gesticulating. He’s jogging along behind her, ducking to avoid getting smacked in the eye. Looks as though all’s not well in teen paradise.
“He’s too young for you.”
My attention snaps back to Curt. “Who?”
“The lying slimy snake.”
“Snakes aren’t slimy and, if you’re referring to Anguis, he’s barely younger than me at all. And I doubt he’ll be doing much lying now.”
Curt scowls, thrusts his hands deep in his pockets and kicks out at a pile of logs. The impact ricochets up his leg and he grunts with pain.
“If Mama Bear sees you, you’ll be in trouble,” I warn.
He snorts, knowing exactly who I mean.
We’re on a direct intercept path with the warring teens when he pipes up, “So you’re staying with the snake then?”
“Edi!”
Dulcis sprints across the snow, on a beeline for me, leaving Adamo trailing in her wake, sporting an expression that reads, ‘Now what?’
“It’s not fair,” she hollers with her best spoiled princess impression.
I desperately want to laugh, but keep my face straight. “What’s not fair?” I ask, knowing full well what she’s about to say. Alpha spent all morning moaning to me about it, as though I have any influence over the younger generation.
“I want to be mated NOW,” she bellows, grinding to a halt outside the main lodge. The entire village looks up and Adamo dies a death of embarrassment in the face of wide-eyed surprise and dewy-eyed empathy. She points over her shoulder at him. “He’s too scared of my father.”
“So he should be,” Curt mutters, scratching his bad hip.
“Stop doing that,” she yells at her uncle. “You’ll open the wound again.”
He jumps and his hand shoots down by his side as though caught in the cookie jar.
“Not to mention General Ursid would skin me,” Adamo says, catching up to his livid girlfriend and purposely tripping over his own feet in an attempt to make her laugh. No such luck.
“So, you don’t want to mate with me?” she shrieks at him.
“No,” he replies, shocked into it. One look at her face scares him into, “Yes.”
“Which is it? No or yes?”
“Yes. Of course, yes, but your father...”
The sweet princess reaches ballistic level. “I DON’T CARE WHAT MY FATHER SAYS.”
Adamo gestures for her to keep the volume down, but if the entire world didn’t know of their sexual predicament before, it does now.
Lord knows why I offer my opinion; I know better. “Dulcis, that’s enough. Screaming in the middle of the village isn’t becoming.”
Her face turns the colour of her lurid cerise bedroom. “Who asked you?”
I’m made of sterner stuff than the shuffling boy duo. “You did and don’t shout at me. You are both far too young to be mated for life. It’s hardly an inconvenience if you spend time actually getting to know one another and learning how to lead this community.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “And that’s not going to convince me of your maturity.”
“To be honest, it’s Wings who scares me most,” Adamo says, making a mock horrified face and flapping his hands.
“Some bear you are,” she snorts. “Scared of an old bird.”
A small window opens directly above her head and said bird leans out.
“You will be, if I come down there, young lady,” Wings tells her, bleary-eyed. “You woke me up with your shouting.” His gaze travels to me. “I thought you’d gone back to your own world.”
Cheeky vulture.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I ask, beaming up at him.
“Will it work?” he flings back.
“Give over, you love me.”
I can’t hear what he mutters, but it’s probably rude.
“You’re leaving?” Dulcis whimpers, her rollercoaster emotions veering from rage to misery. “You can’t leave. Don’t leave me alone.” Her fingers grip my arm so tight, it feels as though I’m in a vice and her head lands on my shoulder with a thud.
“Edi is staying here,” Curt states, in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Really? Why’s that?” I ask, as Dulcis looks up.
“You didn’t like your life in your world,” he replies. “They didn’t understand you, or appreciate who you were. They made fun of your dreams and belittled all the things you loved. You were lonely there and, whatever you decide... whoever you choose... you won’t be lonely here.”
That speech means he’s actually been listening to me, which is both gratifying and terrifying. I realise I’m standing there, staring at him, my mouth wide open like a snow plough.
“Discuss it somewhere else,” Wings orders and the window slams shut.
My face must be telegraphing my thoughts because Adamo jerks his head at Dulcis in a pantomime display of ‘let’s make ourselves scarce.’
“Yes. We, err, have to go, do something,” she announces, stiff as a board. “Bye.”
She grabs Adamo’s hand and launches into a quick march, nearly yanking him off his feet. He grins at me as his face passes by and he slaps Curt on the shoulder with his free hand.
“They won’t be kept apart for long,” I remark, mainly for something to say to break the awkward silence.
“No,” Curt agrees, his intense stare forcing me to look at the snow, the trees, houses, anywhere but at him.
“They’ll have cute furry kids. I mean, I assume they will.” I can hear myself wittering. “What will a bear and wolf have?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, gaze unwavering. “We’ve never mixed packs before.”
Adamo peeps back at us, still beaming. Dulcis hauls him behind a small lodge.
“So,” Curt begins, and I glance at him. “Are you staying for the slimy snake?” He huffs out a sigh. “For Anguis?”
“We’re all going to be friends now,” I reply, which is a copout on so many levels and we both know it.
“Friends?”
He takes two giant steps towards me and I almost shuffle backwards.
“Is that what I am to you, a friend? I don’t want to be your friend and neither does he. He looks great in his frills and when he talks about, I don’t know what, you think he’s clever. But I’m the one for you, not him. Edi, look at me. Look at me.”
I finally look him right in the eyes. He has lovely eyes. Mangy fur, but lovely eyes.
“I’m the right man for you.”
I can see his chest heaving as he waits for my answer.
“Anguis had a big library.”
Alright, I hear you all groaning. That was stupid, but I’m beyond nervous.
When Curt realises I’m not going to say anything else, he tears his gaze away, turns and limps in the opposite direction. Furious banging on the window makes me look up and see Wings scowling through the glass, pointing at me, then at the retreating Curt.
“Oh, alright,” I mouth back at him.
I catch up with Curt near the frozen river.
“You can move fast for a limper,” I say, which wasn’t the best opening shot. He glares at me and keeps moving. “Anguis is handsome and charming, and he did have a big library.”
“Go away,” Curt snarls.
“But he’s not furry.” I grab his arm. “Please stop, we’re too old to chase each other.”
“You speak for yourself,” he replies, halting.
“I am speaking for myself and you’re right, you are the right man for me. The right wolf.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
And I am, sure.
“You don’t look happy about it,” he says.
“I’m scared.”
“Of the wolf?”
I think about that one. “No, actually. Just you. I like the wolf.”
He breaks into a sly smile that raises one eyebrow. “Got a thing for the wolf, eh?”
“Who doesn’t?” I reply nonchalantly, but my heart’s beating so fast, I’m in danger of passing out.
“Don’t be scared of me, Edi. Never be scared of me.”
He tips his head to kiss me, but I can’t let him do that, not yet, not with that book burning a hole in my pocket.
“Wait, there’s something I need to show you first.”
“Of course there is,” he sighs, leaning back and stretching his aching hip. His eyebrows shoot up when I untie my coat, only to drop into a frown when I pull the book from my pocket like a rabbit from a hat. “Oh,” is all he says, still managing to imbue one syllable with a ton weight of suspicion. When I hold it out, he shakes his head.
“Curt, it’s a book, not a snake,” I tell him. “It won’t bite you.”
“I don’t want to end up in another world,” he replies.
I never thought of that.
“I don’t think it works that way for you,” I reply, but I take his point. I don’t want him zapping out of here either, particularly as I’ve no idea how the book got from the mud of a London park to here. “Just look then.”
I shuffle beside him, open the book and rifle to the final page of writing. He sniffs and stares across the village, catching a glimpse of Adamo and Dulcis peering around the corner of a tiny lodge. Their heads pop out of sight.
“Please look,” I plead. “For me.”
“You promise me, if I look, you won’t vanish.”
“I won’t vanish. I have to will it for that to happen.”
“And you don’t? Want to go, that is?”
“No. I don’t. Now will you look?”
He grumbles, mutters, “Fine,” and drops his gaze. “What the...” he exclaims, eyes wide.
“I know.”
“How is it...?”
“I don’t know. I’m not physically writing it, but there it is.”
He turns a page using the tips of his fingers, afraid to touch the magic paper.
“This is when we...”
“Yep,” I agree.
He flips through the book, page after page filled with words, scribed in ink with a quill.
“It’s like I’m reading your thoughts,” he says. “Do you mind me seeing this?”
That’s a sensitive question and it makes me love him more. Oh, I just said I love him. I suppose I do.
“It’s not my diary, but it is in first person,” I reply, “as though I’m thinking it into being, but ahead of time. Curt, it’s not documenting my time here, it’s appearing before I do or think anything.”
He grabs the book from me, rifling to the end. “Does it say when we get around to...?”
I snatch it back. “No, it does not. And never, if you carry on like that.” He pouts and I can’t help but laugh. It soon dies away. “What if all this, this world... you... are just in my head. If it’s all a fantasy?”
“I’m your fantasy wolf,” he announces, brushing down his coat and shifting a wayward strand of hair behind his ear.
“Yes, you are,” I agree, “but that’s not the point I’m making, big head.”
He drapes an arm around me and tips my head onto his shoulder. “You’re scared it’s all going to go away, like your dreams in the old world.”
I can’t bear to agree, because that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I feel his warm lips press against my forehead.
“Nothing’s sure, Edi,” he continues. “I was Alpha, then I wasn’t. I was a lonely old wolf, now I’m not. Lonely, that is. I’m still an old wolf, but that’s fine.” He slips his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my head to drop a gentle kiss on my lips. “All we can do is live today and plan for tomorrow, praying it’ll be there.”
“There’s one thing I know; you’re my Alpha.”
I press my lips to his, but he mutters against them, “You sure you don’t want that snake?”
“What snake?” I breathe and sink into the kiss. Mouths open, tongues intertwine; it’s messy. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.
That muffled thud is the book landing on the snow. No doubt, it predicted that. It’ll also be documenting the cheering coming from across the village, most likely from a ginger bear and his wolf.
“One thing I can’t figure out,” I remark, when two dizzy, middle-aged teenagers come up for air.
“What’s that?”
“If this is my story... If I’m thinking it into being... Why does your Chosen One legend sound like Krystal?”
“You’re thinking about her, right now?” Curt asks, with an air of miffed incredulity.
“She hated me. If I didn’t mention that before.”
“You sure she hated you? Maybe you scared her.”
“How would I scare her? I’m not the slightest bit scary.”
“You scare me,” he retorts, eyes wide.
“Wimp.”
“When we first met you were very snarky.”
“What?! What about you and your Big Bad Wolf I’m going to eat you now routine?”
“You’re making that up,” he says, planting a kiss on the end of my nose. “But I like being the Big Bad Wolf.”
I don’t get to reply before another of those knee melting kisses steals my words. When I can focus again, I notice his grin has turned serious.
“What?” I ask.
“Maybe it’s got nothing to do with her, really. This Krystal. Maybe you don’t believe that you’re good enough to be the Chosen One.”
I ponder that thought for an awkward moment.
“Hmm. You’re wiser than you look, Mangy One.”
“I plan to spend a long time convincing you that you are good enough, Strange Human,” he says, wrapping me in his arms. “And I don’t have mange.”
And they’re the last words spoken for the rest of the day.
