DISCLAIMER: I don't own some of the characters in this story (if you've seen 'The 10th Kingdom,' you'll know which ones I mean. +)). For their use, I thank Simon Moore (and whoever else I need to). The idea of the Little Mermaid is taken from Hans Christian Anderson's tale. Melissa, Grojavek, Terry, Rena, and a few others are all original characters. They, and the plot in it's entirety, are copyrighted me. +) This disclaimer carries over through all parts.

Finally, thank you to my beta-readers, Kat and Nadia, the world's two best. Any remaining errors are mine, and mine alone. +)

NOTE: If you've read 'Meeting Thanksgiving,' you'll recognize Melissa from there. This is her story.

IF I SHOULD NEVER FIND YOU

By Wolffriend

"If I should never find you in this life, let me feel the lack.

One glance from your eyes, and my life will be yours."

--'The Thin Red Line'

Wendell woke up, groping blindly at the satin sheets.

He had had the nightmare again.

The one where the Evil Queen still lived, and he, the Ruler of the 4th Kingdom, was still a dog at her feet. She used and abused him for the pleasure of her troll servants, and all of his people laughed at him when he tried to speak. No one knew that the dog was a prince, and no one noticed that the prince was a dog. It was awful, and he always woke up shaking and sweating.

Sitting up in his huge bed, Wendell smoothed down his blonde curls, feeling the resentment begin again. The others had been gone for three months

now, having earned their well-deserved rest. They'd sent a message across once to Wolf and Virginia, and had received a letter saying everything was going

fine. They kept obstetrician visits to a minimum and would be coming home in another few months.

Antony, meanwhile, was tucked away in his granted castle, by all accounts having the time of his previously pathetic life. He had left Wendell's castle two weeks after Wolf and Virginia, with a small band of followers who worshipped his every step.

Wendell knew the three deserved the peace, and he certainly didn't begrudge them their happiness.

But it had been *four* who saved the Nine Kingdoms.

What sort of peace did he get? How much happiness was he allowed? He was more than proud to be the Fourth Kingdom's ruler, but he would have liked a break after his harrowing experience. And, he hoped, a way to rid himself of the nightmares. Instead of the constant meetings and celebrations and

decisions. Oh the decisions! When had people stopped being able to make up their own minds?

Flopping onto his back, Wendell stared up at the silken canopy above his bed. None of them knew what it had been like, that endless time as a dog. Elf-all, he had almost lost himself entirely. And that time with the Huntsman ... he felt a shiver roll through him and he turned onto his side, curling into a ball.

"Go to sleep," he told himself very sternly. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to him as it always did, and he grew tired again.

"I wish I could just get away for awhile," he murmured aloud, the last word swallowed by a yawn. The wind whispered through his open window, past the heavy drapes. As he drifted to sleep, he could make out its voice, and he heard it saying, 'Be careful what you wish for.'

**********

Melissa answered the knock at her trailer door with a terse, "yeah?"

"It's Teresa, Ms. Duke. Time for your make-up." Melissa groaned and stalked to the door, unlocking it and flinging it wide. A lighting hand walking by jumped at the movement, caught her baleful glare, and hurried on his way.

Teresa stood to the opposite side of the door, frowning as she always did

lately. "Good morning to you, too," she said in her soft voice. "Glad to see you're in good spirits this morning."

Melissa made a face and ushered the make-up artist in, closing the door firmly behind her. "Don't start with me, Terry. I don't need it."

"I think you do." She pushed Melissa steadily to the make-up chair and forced her into it. "Look at you, for Heaven's sake. No cheekbones to speak

of, and those eyelashes are a disgrace!"

She had to smile at that, looking at herself in the mirror. Even when her movies were roasted, which seemed to be more frequent lately, the critics always gave a plug to her 'timeless beauty.' Like she was fifty instead of twenty-eight. But when she had been in the public eye since she was six, it felt like she was a hundred.

"Why do I do it?" she sighed aloud.

Teresa deftly tied the make-up bib around her neck, exactly the same as every morning. "Because you get paid millions of dollars, hon," the older woman answered matter-of-factly.

Melissa sighed again. "That's no reason to be an actress. I don't even like acting anymore. I should quit."

Teresa had had experience with this particular conversation. "But you're so good at it, and you make millions of people happy by what you do, Missy."

"Missy!" Melissa jerked her head away from the foundation brush. "Don't call me that! That's the worst part of all of this. 'Missy Duke.'" She

groaned loudly. "I can't believe I was ever young enough to agree to that."

"You were and you did, Melissa."

"They won't let me change it back either," she pouted.

"It's too late now. Everyone in the world knows Missy Duke. Few people know Melissa Dukavski."

"You do."

Teresa smiled gently. "I've known you for a long time."

Melissa laid her head against Teresa's hand, smelling the other woman's fresh nail polish. It was so familiar that it brought tears to her eyes. "I'm glad," she said, blinking rapidly.

"Don't ruin your make-up," Teresa warned, noticing everything. As always.

They sat in silence while she finished the job. It went fast, requiring nothing special to bring out Melissa's beauty. When she looked at the results in the mirror, she couldn't help but see that even Teresa wasn't talented enough to hide the tiredness.

"You look beautiful," she said, when Melissa pulled off the bib and headed for the door.

"You always say that."

"I always mean it." Teresa paused, then asked, "Are you all right?"

Melissa glanced at her long-time friend and caretaker over her shoulder. "I'm one of the most famous movie stars alive. I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I'm relatively young. What do I have to be upset about?" She left the question hanging and stepped out into the morning sunlight.

**********

"Must get the mirror, must get the mirror, must get the mirror!" The little imp tripped over his feet in his own malicious glee. Picking himself up, he ducked into one of the alcoves along the hallway, giggling. Cold air rushed past, pricking at his skin and he frowned at the emptiness. "I know I know!" he squealed at it, then clamped both ungainly hands over his absurdly small mouth. He giggled again and scampered back out into the hall.

She was always watching him, always bothering him. She should leave him alone. She just distracted him. He was getting the mirror. Get the mirror, She had told him. He was getting it. Just a few feet further and he'd have got it. He giggled again.

The King was so stupid. Thinking no one could get down here. He could. He was just small enough, just smart enough, to make it in. Squeeze through the hole, push aside some rock, eat a mouse. He licked his lips and leapt for the mouse, but it scampered away before he could grab it.

"Dumb mouse!" he shouted. Then, "Shhhhhhh! Must be quiet. Get the mirror!" There it was, dull and dusty. Stupid King. He pulled out the bag

full of magic dust She had given him. What had She told him? Be careful. He nodded his head vigorously. Must be careful. Get the mirror. Shrink the

mirror. Take it back to Her.

And then...and then! Then She would give him his surprise! He could hardly contain himself. He loved surprises.

Trembling all over with excitement, he opened up the bag and sniffed it, sneezing promptly into the contents. The dust poofed up out of the bag and

sprinkled across his nose. He felt it tingle, and then suddenly the bulbous protuberance disappeared. He crossed his eyes to get a look at it, but still

couldn't see it. Suck an elf! What had happened to his precious nose?!

He was on the verge of tears now. But when he reached up and touched it, he felt a small knob. Was that his nose? That tiny, awful, hideous thing he was feeling? It was no more than a wart! The dust! The thoughts fell into place in his scattered, excited brain, and he stared at the dust with new

respect. He had had the largest nose in Impdom. He would get Her to fix it before he gave Her the mirror.

He looked at himself in the mirror, disgusted by how ugly he looked now with the tiny nose. Yes, he would make Her fix it before he gave Her the

mirror. He nodded again, his floppy ears banging against the side of his head. He grinned at his reflection, admiring his perfectly green-stained teeth. Then, bursting into giggles again, he began spreading dust on the mirror, until it shrank so that it was small enough to fit into his sweaty pocket.

With a squeal of delight, he set off again, anxious to make it back to Her. The mirror banged against his leg as he loped away, giggling.

**********

She waited.

Rena had always been waiting, it seemed. Ever since she had flung herself into the ocean instead of killing her beloved prince, she had waited. And for what? For two hundred years she had suffered the pains of others, hoping that it would ease her own. It hadn't worked, like her sisters had promised. They had long since left her, their sentences fulfilled. But she had stayed. Where the others had found happiness, she could only find misery.

It was fitting, really.

She wished, for some countless time, that she had killed the Prince when she had had a chance. She had suffered endless agony at his wedding, watching him kiss his new bride, thinking that she had been the one to save him. But her muteness -- her *dumbness*, as he had so appropriately named it -- had kept the truth from him. And then, when death lingered on the dawning of the new day, and she had been offered life, she had thrown it away. Because her life had meant his death, and Rena never could have killed him back then. Back then, she had decided to take her own life instead, because she thought she had no life without him.

How wrong she had been.

There was so much more to life than him. Now she knew what it was truly like to be human. Something had happened when she had dissolved into the ocean foam, her mermaid form dying. The others had come and lifted her up, promising her a soul if she just waited long enough. She waited. And waited. And waited still. The others spouted their silly words, and they wafted on the wind to bring joy and peace and leave Rena to wait. Rena was sick of waiting.

She took the wind that carried her slowly forming soul, and shaped it, twisted it, spun it into a hurricane and sent it sailing across the waters. Her first attempts were no more than meager rainstorms. Eventually she gathered enough power to sink a ship, and she tasted freedom.

Somehow, these people that she killed, their deaths gave her back parts of herself. But these parts were special. She could mold them into whatever she wanted to be, and she wanted to be human. Oh her prince had long since died, but she knew his line lived on. She couldn't find them, but she knew they were there, somewhere. Rena was certain that if she were human, she could satisfy the revenge that had burned so brightly within her all these two hundred years.

Some things, she had found, were worth waiting for.

But the souls of the fishermen and village people were small and petty. She needed a hero's soul. And when the wind whispered its secrets to her, her half-formed face twisted with her lopsided grin. Her actual power was not enough for direct action, but she had learned many ways to get what she wanted. That elf-all imp, Grojavek, was just one way. Not her first choice, but the best one she had access to, so she had sent him and his tiny brain to get the mirror for her, that she may put her plan into action.

Yes, she would get what she wanted.

And she wanted Wendell.

**********

"We wanted you to decide for us, Your Highness."

Wendell managed to keep his 'royal face,' while groaning inwardly. "Yes of course. Why don't you..." he paused, scrambling to remember why the men were there. "Uh, why don't you...ah yes! You can put in a fenced pen and that will keep your pig from eating his roots."

Both men gazed up at Wendell, clearly awe-struck.

"A bloody genius," he heard someone in the crowd murmur.

"Next case!" the servant standing next to his throne bellowed across the room.

Two more men approached, one with a chicken stuffed under his arm, the other struggling to hold onto a furious rooster. The one with the chicken began shouting something at him, while the rooster started crowing for some inexplicable reason. Wendell felt the noise crashing into him, building into an

internal pressure that felt like it would explode out of his head.

"No!"

The crowd stilled, watching him. Suck an elf! He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I mean, I must...I must get something to drink first."

A servant knelt in front of him, already bearing a glass of cold water.

Wendell stood anyway. "I need to use the royal bathroom," he announced stiffly. *They can't stop me from that* he thought. Although he did have a

brief image of them trying.

Escaping into the hallway, he looked behind, unsurprised to see his new manservant, Geoffrey, there. After Giles' death, they had had to pick a new

man. Wendell had hoped it would be someone nearer his own age, not the tottering old man that stood before him. To make it worse, he had none of

Giles' backbone.

"What is it, Geoff?"

The man bowed low, some unnamable bone popping as he did so. "I am your manservant. I-"

"Yes, yes! I know that already." Wendell rolled his eyes, but Geoff didn't bother to notice. "I'm just going to relieve myself. Can I not do that

alone anymore?"

Geoff opened and shut his mouth like a dying fish. "I just thought, sire, that-"

Wendell held up a hand, and then patted Geoff on the head with it. "Just go back in and keep my throne warm for me, hm?" He turned and hurried off,

knowing that even if Geoff decided to follow he could easily outrun him.

It was all just too much. So far this morning, he had had breakfast with an elvish dignitary, although there was little actual dignity involved on the elf's part, he had solved some fifty cases of amazingly dull disputes, and he had another fifty lined up. Then later there was dinner with an entourage of dwarves, followed by troll culture studies. He didn't know when they had slipped that into his schedule, but his advisors thought it would be important.

Wendell slowed as he wandered down the halls of his castle, not seeing the servants who bowed and fawned over him as he walked by. It surprised even him when he approached the hallway that led to where they were hiding the Traveling Mirror.

The hall was made of thick, solid stones and was long, with no windows. Down its entire length there were only two torches, and one had burned out. The faintest hint of something musky lingered in the air, but down here it could have been anything. Wendell stopped underneath the unlit torch, widening his eyes in the darkness.

It wouldn't be that hard, really, to get to the Mirror. He was one of only three people in the entire kingdom that knew where the keys to this door

were, and the other two were in the throne room right now. Which, upon reflection, probably wasn't the smartest idea, but he let that thought slide.

*I could make a quick jaunt to the 10th Kingdom,* he thought. *I've only been there once, and since I was a dog that doesn't really count. I could check up

on Virginia and Wolf. And its really rather unexplored, someone *should* go give it a thorough survey.* Even as he considered it, Wendell grew warmer to

the idea.

Spinning on one heel, he marched back down to the servant's quarters and straight into one of the rooms without bothering to knock. Even if someone had been in here, he wouldn't have felt too guilty about it. It was *his* castle, after all.

The room was tiny, with one small bed, a wash bowl, a tiny mirror, and a trunk crowding what little space there was. He rooted through the trunk,

pleased to see that whoever this was, the clothes they wore seemed just a little bit bigger than his own. Grinning, Wendell changed, leaving his own clothes

laid out neatly on the man's bed. Wouldn't he be surprised when he returned later this evening? He had to laugh aloud at that, imagining the poor man's

face. "I must make sure he doesn't get in trouble, though," he told the empty room. After another quick search, Wendell located pen and paper in a storeroom down the hall, and wrote a quick note saying he had 'gone out' for a bit and would be home by tomorrow. And not to blame this poor man for doing anything to the King. Studying the hasty letter, he nodded, signed it, sealed it, and lay it carefully on top of the clothes.

He paused a moment to gape at himself in the man's small, dirty mirror. The shirt he wore was bigger than he had thought, and hung on him like a giant's sheets on a normal-sized bed. The pants had a hole -- an actual hole! -- in one of the knees, and the entire ensemble was a dull, perpetually dirty gray. "Fantastic," he murmured. Even as a dog he had never felt this common. It was refreshing.

Inordinately pleased with his secret mission, Wendell was more cautious as he made his way to where the keys were kept. He disarmed the six traps and snatched up the keys, forcing himself to calmly walk back to the door. Finally! He would get his break. And, to top it off, it would be clandestine. His blood tingled with the excitement of it all. It was so rare he even got to sleep by himself anymore, let alone go off and do something.

Arriving at the heavy door, the King stared at it before unlocking the locks -- middle, bottom, top -- amused to see his hand was trembling. "Come

now, Wendell," he said softly, eyeing the door, "don't be afraid." It was made of solid ironwood, and had been constructed by two of the finest ironwoodsmiths in the Fourth Kingdom. "You've faced down some of the most evil creatures in all the nine--the ten kingdoms. This is just fun." Even though the nervousness was masking that fun pretty well at the moment.

Wendell still couldn't bring himself to open the door. Truthfully, he had no real idea what the 10th Kingdom was like. What if it was dangerous or just dreadfully boring? Maybe he would be better off spending his mini-vacation somewhere he knew. Like Cinderella's kingdom. At least that way, if something unexpected happened, he had somewhere he could go. Besides, who would want to spend a vacation with Wolf and Virginia anyway? Not any sane person, and certainly not one who was single. The two spent more time making lovey-eyes at each other than breathing. It was enough to make a man sick. If not the tiniest bit jealous.

"Well," he sighed, locking the door again. "Perhaps I'll visit when Antony goes back. Then at least I'll have a guide. And a distraction."

Mollified with the back-up plan, Wendell retraced his steps, replacing the keys and resetting the traps. He kept the servant's clothes on, having decided that once he got outside he would rub some dirt on himself and truly get into the spirit of it. Part of him worried that he was relapsing into dog hood, which occasionally caught him at stressful times, but mostly he worried about how to get out.

*There's always the obvious* he thought, heading back to the servant's room. He rooted through the clothes and came up with a thick, hooded, winter

cloak. "Perfect." Wendell was smiling as he wrapped the smelly thing around himself. He was certain it hadn't been washed since it had been bought. That

was even better!

"Who would suspect the King would dare to show himself in this?" he asked the mirror, wiping off some of the dirt with his thumb. He wiped his thumb

across his cheek, delighted to see the hint of a smudge form in its wake. "Oh this will indeed be enjoyable."

Wendell had always considered himself an outdoorsman. He loved hunting, and the occasional overnight trip in the woods was not unheard of. But it

hadn't been until recently that he had found the real benefit to being outdoors. Solitude. Blessed, underrated solitude. It was just man against nature, and the odd troll in past times. With the recent death of the Evil Queen and the Troll King, Wendell knew it would be safe in the Fourth Kingdom for at least a few years. And everyone knew that Happy Ever After never lasted as long as you hoped.

What was that phrase Antony had taught him before he left? Carpe diem. 'Seize the day.' Well he was seizing it now! Nestling deeper into the cloak, Wendell headed straight for the castle entrance, walking like he had a purpose. He hoped that if he looked like he had a mission, no one would stop him. None of the servants took note of him, not even bothering to get out of his way. He almost yelled at them to move for their King before he realized that they didn't recognize him, which was exactly what he had wanted. Then he had had to keep himself from decloaking himself victoriously.

Even the castle guards only gave him a cursory glance. More concern was given to those who were trying to enter the castle, and not those who were

leaving. There was a long line waiting on the drawbridge, and the noise was astounding. Everyone seemed to be screaming at the top of their lungs, all at

the same time. Didn't they realize that they were getting nothing accomplished that way?

Wendell chanced a look at the guards, and saw the dull resignation in their eyes. He would have to remember to remedy this when he came back. A mob

outside the castle presented a painfully unruly picture of his kingdom.

And then he was free.

There wasn't a sign saying, "Freedom starts here," but he felt as if there was. He glanced over his shoulder, and could hardly make out the forms of his guards amongst the crowd milling around outside. No one was paying attention to a servant on a mission.

Wendell lifted his face up to the sky, the sunlight racing past the folds of the hood that he kept clutched around his head. He shut his eyes, letting the rays warm his eyelids and his cheeks, until he felt like he had been crying. Lowering his head, making sure his hood stayed in place, he chose a random direction and began walking. He had no food or water or clothing, but he wasn't worried. He didn't need any of that right now.

He had his freedom.

**********



Melissa felt like a weight was tied to her feet as she trudged to the waiting limo.

It had been an excruciatingly long day -- and it was only late afternoon. But they had done all of the last filming of her scenes, rushing them all to get everything completed on time. She also suspected the director sensed the growing apathy she was feeling towards her role and didn't want to chance his star walking out before everything was done.

She slid onto the soft leather seat and leaned her head back against the headrest while the driver shut the door. Teresa had insisted on coming over

later to make her special spaghetti sauce, but even the distant memory of spices and tomatoes couldn't get Melissa hungry. She hadn't eaten all day and wasn't planning on starting now. Her evening held a few glasses of wine and maybe a few shots of tequila in its future. The limo purred to life, the engine quiet and smooth as the driver pulled sedately out onto the empty street. Melissa turned her head a little, watching the scenery through the tinted windows. This movie was based in Los Angeles, which was a small blessing in and of itself, because it meant she could go home during filming and not have to stay in some ritzy hotel. Of course it also meant that they actually had to *film* in LA. And the dirty streets and sad houses that they were passing just depressed her.

What depressed her more was that the people who lived in these houses were being paid to keep a city block away from the shoot. They were nearing that barricade now, made up of bright yellow, heavy plastic barriers. People were pressing at the edges, held off by the always-loveable LAPD. She could see the change in the bored, sullen crowd as they spotted her limousine pulling closer. People began to stand and wave their arms, and the group became a living thing, melting into itself until it become one being instead of many.

She saw her driver, Jerry, glance at her in the rearview mirror and ignored it. He hated driving through the crowds, but Melissa always made him do it. She never admitted to herself why, because she did nothing but complain about the noise, but Teresa held a few choice theories. The sudden pounding on windows drove the rest of that out of her mind, replacing it with a headache. She saw the brief flash of faces, the dark metal of cameras, the shiny sunglasses of a cop. What did these people see in her?

And wouldn't they be horrified to know how she saw herself.

"Would you like any music, Ms. Duke?"

*Good old Jerry* she thought, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. He always asked her, even though she could do it all herself. It drove her insane, but she knew he meant well by it.

"No, Jerry. Not today." It was the same answer she always gave. When had the exciting, whirlwind life she'd dreamed of fallen into this dull routine?

Weren't actresses' lives the ones other women fantasized about?

"Actually Jerry. Yes. Something soothing. No, better yet, something loud."

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror again, his brow furrowed in surprise. "Really?" That one word was so filled with shock that it stopped her

from answering immediately.

Melissa inhaled slowly, the oiled leather smell working its way into her head, wrapping itself around her headache. "No," she sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest again. "Never mind." He continued on, peace filling his eyes as the world settled back into place. All she could hear in the limo was the harsh sound of her own breathing.

**********

Grojavek wished that She had been able to get him back as easily as She'd gotten him there. He had appeared immediately at Her call, and then, after She had told him what he was supposed to do, She'd sprinkled something over him and he had been at the Stupid King's castle.

Now he had to walk all the way back, because She hadn't thought to give him any magic traveling dust. That just proved how much smarter he was than all of them. The mirror was growing heavier as he walked, his imp legs moving as fast as they could.

He didn't know where he was, exactly. He just knew that if he kept walking this way, he would get home. Sniffing the air, his tiny nose could no

longer pick up all the exciting scents it used to. Tiny noses weren't just ugly, they were useless! Groj dug a long, skinny finger into his ear, pulling

out a sticky ball of wax. They were all stupid. Stupid and ugly. He licked the wax ball off of his finger and began chewing on it.

He walked for a long time, muttering and giggling and chasing after the odd rodent. He wondered what the surprise would be, and spent several minutes tumbling around in deer droppings in his happiness. He loved surprises!

As he kept walking, the mirror grew heavier and heavier, and bulkier. Groj looked at his pocket, and noticed the top of the mirror poking out.

"Stupid mirror!" he squeaked, pushing down on it as hard as he could, until he tipped himself over. When he rolled back to his feet, the mirror was still

sticking out of his pocket. The hint of a thought waved a tiny flag in the imp's mind, and was then lost amidst the shouting and shuffling of his nervous

excitement.

He pulled the mirror out of his pocket and lay it on the ground. Sniffing it carefully, unable to smell anything with his new, tiny nose, he walked around it several times. Then, when that didn't seem to do anything, he cartwheeled around it. It looked the same. He poked it with his finger. It felt the same.

Groj dug for another wax treat while he attempted to think.

It had fit in his pocket before, he knew that for sure. And it had gotten heavier the later it got. Maybe....the imp squinted his eyes until they were tiny slits, his whole face wrinkling with the effort. A bird perched in a nearby tree chirped softly, but still didn't manage to disrupt him, his

concentration was so great.

If it fit before and it didn't fit now that meant ... that meant ... Groj opened his eyes and screamed with excitement. He'd figured it out! His pockets were shrinking!

The bird flapped off, terrified at the noise. He bounced around, his big feet making deep prints in the soil. Wait! Groj stopped mid-bounce, and then landed on his face. If his pockets were shrinking then how was he going to carry the mirror? She had warned him that if he lost it, he definitely would not be getting his surprise. His big, buggy eyes filled up with tears.

He would carry it back. He had hoped to avoid doing too much work, in case Her surprise wasn't any good, but even a bad surprise was better than no

surprise at all! Picking up the mirror, surprised at how heavy it was, he began tottering along, weaving back and forth as he went.

Grojavek hadn't walked that far when his arms gave out and he dropped the mirror to the ground with a squeal. It bounced on the soft grass and didn't break, and he flopped onto his back in relief. He thought he had broken it! Now he would have to be really, really careful. But it was so heavy! And it only got heavier as he walked.

Wait. Grojavek bolted upright again, terrified. His pocket wasn't shrinking at all! He knew that, now! The mirror was getting bigger and

heavier, even when it wasn't in his pocket. That meant only one horrible, awful thing!

He was shrinking!

Oh it was too horrible to be imagined! What if he shrank until he disappeared? Or got stepped on! Or eaten by some horrible, hideous squirrel!

The little imp began shaking all over, staring at the mirror as if it was cursed. He must have done something wrong with the dust. Hadn't She told him

how to use it? This was Her fault! Growing purple-green with anger, Groj began stomping around, his emotions bouncing as unsteadily as his thoughts.

He would show Her. The Imp Lands were a lot closer than Her stupid, suck-a-human, wolf-all palace. The Imps could use this mirror better than Her.

Righteous with anger, Groj stumbled towards the mirror and hefted it up again. It had grown heavier even in just that short time. He would never make it home before he shrank into a little tiny nothing!

Throwing it down, it bounced against a rock and a flash of light burst out of it as it started to hum.

Grojavek shrieked, hiding himself behind a tree and peering out bravely. The mirror lay on the ground, and the surface glowing.

"Muklavuk protect me!" he whispered, praying to the greatest, bravest, warrior Imp that ever walked the Nine Kingdoms. All imps knew that Muklavuk

would help only the bravest imps, and so Groj stepped out from behind the tree and approached the humming, glowing, terrifying mirror.

He stared at it for a long time, waiting for Muklavuk to come, but he never did. The glowing fizzed and fuzzed, and finally the picture formed into a room. No room he had ever seen before. There was a big, scary-looking black and white thing staring at him. It had four eyes, and a long thin nose. It was very square, and probably twice as big as he was. Soon it would be almost four times as big if he kept shrinking!

Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of Groj's brain, another thought fought for its freedom and drifted to the surface. She had accidentally told

him what this mirror was. It was a traveling mirror. And no one could have missed the rumors of the newly discovered 10th Kingdom. He began panting with

the effort of following the idea to its completion.

This mirror. Why, this mirror went to the 10th Kingdom. They had great magic in the 10th Kingdom. If he went across ... Groj frowned and started the idea over. If he went across, they could help him. And the Imps could claim it for their own. Everyone knew how those stupid trolls had failed. They were hiding in their kingdom now, whining and crying. No one ever gave anything to the imps. They didn't even have their own kingdom. Licking his tiny lips, Grojavek giggled for a long minute.

Muklavuk *had* come to help Grojavek. He was showing him the way to solve all of his problems -- and become the greatest imp of all! Squealing and

giggling, Grojavek jumped into the mirror.

**********

Jerry pulled up to the immense gates of Melissa's home, waving at the gate guard who promptly buzzed them through.

*Home at last* Melissa thought, watching as it grew larger until it towered over them. It was three stories, with, at last count, twelve rooms, an

indoor pool and spa, a small fitness center, a movie-viewing room, a ballroom, a game room, and three bathrooms per floor. She had bought it when she was

eighteen and used to throw huge, expensive parties. Now the beautiful mansion sat mostly unused. She put up her gardener, chauffeur, and house-cleaner for no rent because they kept it from getting too lonely. But in a house that size she rarely saw them anyway, and everyone seemed happy with the state of affairs.

"Thank you Jerry," she said automatically when he stopped the limo and came around to open her door. She stood unaided and smoothed a hand over her

hair.

"Have a nice evening, Ms. Duke."

"Mm. You too." She climbed up the twenty-five stairs -- she'd counted them long ago -- to the roomy front door, which stood open, waiting for her.

Belinda, her house-cleaner, was there, as always, her hair restricted into a tight bun. The woman was not much older than Melissa, with beautiful, long red

hair that she never wore loose. Melissa only knew it was long because she ran into her at night once, accidentally.

"Good evening, Ms. Duke."

"Belinda." Melissa stopped in the doorway, staring at the woman. Belinda met her gaze for a moment and looked away. Not out of fear, she knew, but

etiquette. "How's Sport?"

"Fine. He was sleeping, last I saw."

"Did you have a nice day?" She lingered in the doorway, the wind pushing gently at her back and sneaking past into the house. Melissa didn't want to go inside, letting the door shut behind her and lock her into her house and her routine. Belinda was giving her the same stare Jerry had earlier. But still Melissa couldn't move, afraid to, as if the sameness of her life lurked inside like a monster. She could still turn around now, run back outside, escape through the gate. Escape from her life.

She moved inside, instead, and Belinda hurriedly shut the door, as if she'd seen the craziness in Melissa's eyes.

"You didn't answer my question, Belinda."

"Yes, Ms."

Melissa waited a beat, but apparently Belinda had answered the question. She wondered what the woman said to her friends over tea about her.

"Good," Melissa sighed, moving through the entry room to the sweeping staircase. The inside of the mansion was airy, heavily decorated with windows

and very little furniture. It had all been tastefully decorated when she bought it, in some period she could never remember the name of. There was lots of

darkly stained wood and richly colored velvets that would look somber if not for all the sunlight. Every room had a wide skylight in addition to the windows, and only the bathroom and bedroom windows had curtains. Which annoyed and worried Teresa to no end, convinced that Melissa was inviting voyeurism and vandalism by leaving her property so open. Melissa knew she would die without that openness. She had lived in LA all her life, but she always felt more at home in wide, open spaces.

The hallway was long and kept from draftiness by a plush carpet and lots of heating. These walls were bare as well, except for vases overflowing with real flowers on the small tables spaced some twenty feet apart. It gave the whole area the hint of being in a field.

The wide, heavy doors to her room at the end of the hallway were partially open to allow Sport easy access. When she opened them all the way, he raised his large head and yawned a greeting at her.

"Hello to you too," she said, genuinely smiling for the first time that day. The orange tabby pushed himself to his feet and lumbered off the bed to

meet her. At his last vet visit, he'd weighed in at 17 pounds -- all healthy muscle according to Dr. Hatchinson. Sport trotted towards her, meeting her

halfway across the room and tangling himself in her legs.

She laughed and scooped him up in her arms with a grunt. "Sport! When you're my age, this will all turn to fat," she admonished him, planting a kiss on his furry belly. He meowed loudly, but the rumbling she felt through her fingertips belied his true pleasure.

Next to the bed, she set him down to loud protests, and slipped off her shoes. "You wouldn't believe the day I had," she sighed, padding barefoot to

her closet. It was a walk-in as big as a small room. Sport jumped off the bed again and sauntered in after her, examining her dresses. He batted idly at a

dangling string while she talked.

Melissa told him everything as she changed out of her dress into a pair of old, worn jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. How much she hated this role, one in a long line of romantic comedies. How tired she was of acting in general. And how frightened she felt at looking into her future and seeing no hope for anything better. Sport listened patiently, following her back out of the closet and re-settling himself on the bed.

She finished and he was still watching her with his wise green eyes, somehow understanding. "You're my best friend," she murmured, stroking the top

of his head. The words left her feeling sad.

"Well," Melissa straightened, leaving him meowing unhappily behind her. "Terry should be here soon, I guess. I'll get the kitchen ready for her." Not that she needed the help, Melissa knew. Teresa was more familiar in her kitchen than Melissa was herself.

She had just exited her room when she heard Belinda scream.

**********

Grojavek had been in an imp's version of paradise from the moment he stepped through the mirror.

The rectangular monster with the huge nose had turned out to be an oven. And there were rows of marvelous cupboards, each one filled with a surprise. Round, heavy containers with pictures of food and wonderful metal pots that crashed noisily when he threw them across the floor.

He was rolling around the middle of the floor, which was made of hundreds of odd white squares, laughing and squeaking with excitement when a human woman came in and ruined all his fun by screaming.

He shrieked and, terrified, ran into one of the cupboards and slammed the door shut behind him. The woman stopped screaming and began shouting loudly enough to bruise his poor ears.

"Rat! RAT!" she yelled over and over. Groj clamped his hands over his ears and whimpered in the darkness. Stupid human! Didn't she know any better? He was just getting his courage up to go out and tell her when another human voice cut in.

"Belinda! What is it? Are you all right?" It was another woman. Groj groaned. He was really starting to hate human women. At least that first one had shut up.

"Ms. Duke! It was horrible! There was a huge green rat in here. I was," he heard the woman take a gigantic breath, and thought for a moment she was going to try and blow him out of his hiding place like a wolf. "I was," she continued talking instead, "coming in here because I'd heard noises. I thought it was Sport. But I saw it, right out in the middle of the floor. Look at this mess!"

Groj hoped the woman was as stupid as she sounded, and wouldn't know where he had run.

"All right. Where did it go?"

"You don't believe me."

"Of course I believe you. I just asked you where it went, didn't I?"

"You had a tone." One of the women sniffed.

"I didn't have a tone."

"Of course, Ms. Duke."

"Belinda." Groj grinned to himself at how she sounded. His mother always said his name the same way. "Just tell me where it went."

"I think it went that way." There was a pause and Groj pushed himself farther back. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Find it, first."

He heard her start to move, and then the opening and shutting of cupboard doors. He shifted from foot to foot, struggling not to squeal in fear.

"And then?"

"And then I'll kill it."

Grojavek squeaked in terror. She was going to kill him!

"Did you hear that?"

His bug-eyes widened even further and he pressed his lips tightly shut. She had heard him! She would find him and then she was going to kill him. Kick an elf! He was going to die here! With an ugly nose!

A bell rang in the sky outside, and Groj was sure it signaled his death. He started to cry.

"That's Terry. Listen, why don't you go rest and I'll take care of this. Just let Terry in on your way up, ok?"

He didn't hear the other woman's response, but he also didn't hear anymore cupboard door noises, either. Then they started up again and he felt his

bravery crumble. He was going to die in the 10th Kingdom, and no one would ever know.

At least none of the other imps would have seen his ugly nose.

**********

"Rat problems?"

Melissa jumped at the noise, engrossed in searching her cupboards for a green rat. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "Belinda said she saw

one. A green one, if you believe that."

Terry smiled, setting her purse and a paper bag bursting with food on the counter. "Hard to say. You never do give your hired help drug tests."

Sighing, Melissa shut another cupboard door. "Don't start that. They've all been working for me for years now, I think I could have figured it out

before this. Besides," she gestured at the pans and cans scattered over the kitchen floor, "how do I explain this?"

"Maybe Belinda had someone over who had a child, and the child made the mess. Maybe she's just covering up because she thinks you're going to fire

her."

"Jesus, Terry, when did you get so cynical?"

Teresa sighed. "I'm sorry. It's Frank. I had to do his make-up today, too, and you know how he is." Melissa knew too well. Frank was playing her

father in this movie, and she often found herself wishing the character had been an orphan instead. He was one of the most dour, pessimistic people she had ever met, and never let a chance slip by where he could complain about it. Melissa had feared that her time spent with him over these past months was part of the reason she was feeling so awful, but she knew that was just a convenient excuse.

"I don't know why she added the 'green,' specifically," she said, trying desperately to stop her thoughts. "I didn't ask her what color it was. What else is green that lives in Los Angeles kitchens?"

Terry snorted indelicately. "Mold."

Melissa smiled at that, and shut another cupboard door after shoving the missing pans back in it. "Attack of the Kitchen Mold? Sounds like a good

flick."

"You'd be wonderful in it," Terry agreed seriously. "I'm going to start making the sauce. Hi Sporty, how are you?" Melissa glanced over and saw the orange tabby saunter into the room, brushing up against Terry's legs on his way by. He stopped over by her, sniffing at the open cupboard.

"I was going to turn on the stove but..." Melissa waved at the messy floor. She scratched Sport behind the ears and then shoved another pot into the

cupboard. "When did I get so many pots? I don't recall ever buying any of these." She straightened, holding a wafflemaker in her hand. "I don't even

*like* waffles."

Sport stalked over to a closed cupboard farther down the row and started growling deep in his throat, the hairs on his tail standing on end. From

inside, Melissa heard something squeak. Grinning victoriously, she moved over to the door and gently tried to push Sport aside. "Look at you, Sport. When

did you become a ratter?" When he didn't move, she pushed harder until he finally gave way, just on the verge of hissing.

She felt Terry's presence behind her and looked up.

"What are you going to do if the rat is actually in there?" the other woman asked.

Melissa frowned. "I was going to kill it, but-"

"But how."

"Exactly." She turned a questioning gaze to Terry. "Any ideas? Besides rattraps. I need something immediate, since we know where he is." Sport had gone back to the door and was tugging at it with his paw, trying to get it open. Whatever was inside started scrambling around and squeaking more loudly. "Sport," she pushed him away more forcefully but he came back again anyway, spitting and hissing.

"All right fine," she said, frustrated. "You can have it." Melissa stepped back and pulled the door open.

**********

Groj heard the woman's words and shrieked, knowing he would die soon. Whatever this 'Sport,' was, it was certain to be some horrible Tenth Kingdom

monster. Whispering Muklavuk's name over and over, he waited until he saw the first light, and threw himself at the door, tumbling out onto the ground. He

passed some big orange, hairy thing and the two women and smashed into the cabinet door on the other side. One of the women shouted, "Imp!" and he stopped

to look up at them. They were staring back down, obviously in shock. He looked for the big orange thing and was not happy to see that it was a cat. He hated cats.

"Muklavuk help me!" he squealed, as he heard the sudden shouting and Sport's renewed growling. Without looking, the little imp leapt to his feet and

ran the only direction he could. He skidded across the floor, unable to get enough purchase to stop himself before he crashed into the wall. Falling onto

his back, he rolled to his side as Sport landed where he had been. "Ack!" he cried, continuing to roll until he got back onto his feet. He spotted the

shimmering ahead that had to be his way back home and ran for it like She was chasing him.

**********

Melissa could only stare at the green thing as it tumbled out of her cupboard and into the other wall. Then Terry had shouted something and they had

all paused to get a good look at each other. It was so oddly like a scene from a movie that by the time Melissa had stopped looking for cameras, the badly-

mangled, green gremlin looking creature had taken off again, followed by Sport.

It slammed into the wall and she couldn't help but wince, although it got immediately to its feet and kept running. Sport pounced where it had been and then skidded into the wall himself, and even he didn't seem to feel it as he turned to the left to follow, chasing the green creature around the large middle island. As she hurried that way, she saw something iridescent in the corner, even as the creature ran into it. The wall flashed brightly, blinding her for a moment.

"What the hell?" she gasped, blinking her eyes furiously. She came around the island and got to the shimmering space just as Sport jumped through it. "SPORT!" she cried, leaping in after him without thinking. She thought she heard Terry calling her name behind her before all sound disappeared.

Melissa had an endless moment to be frightened, sure that somehow she had died. It was all black and silence, and she couldn't even hear her own heart beating.

And then light and noise rushed back over her like a tidal wave and she stumbled to the ground. She fell, her hands hitting soft grass when she caught herself. Behind her, there was another burst of noise and Teresa lurched to a stop beside her. Breathing hard, Melissa could only stare at the grass for a long minute before she convinced herself to look up.

They were on the edge of a forest. She saw Sport run into it and then his small form disappeared.

"Oh my God," Melissa whispered hoarsely. "Where are we?"

**********

Rena listened to the wind. She had not been able to hear the sea speaking since she'd given up her fins for the Prince. There had been a time when she regretted that loss, but that time had passed. Now she understood the wind, its words and its power. Sometimes it was too much for even her to control. And sometimes, the wind did only what it wanted, for no real reason at all. But mostly it was hers to command and manipulate.

It told her now of the imp's mistakes and disappearance into the mirror. He had failed differently than she had expected, and that would require more planning. But an imp could only do so much, and she was certain that he would not surprise her again.

Rena dismissed the wind, and the cave she lived in grew very still with its departure. She had chosen this spot for its silence, that she could better hear when the wind whispered. In its absence, the silence became material, bullying away the endless crashing of waves on the nearby shore.

So few people understood what a true lack of noise was like. It got so quiet even your breathing sounded like you were screaming.

Rena understood it. It was the same emptiness as death had been. She touched one of the cold, stone walls and smiled. When her plan was fulfilled,

this was as close as she would ever get to death again.

**********

Melissa got slowly to her feet, trying to watch every direction at once. She looked behind her and saw a mirror on the ground, its surface glowing

brightly. Next to her, Teresa was staring at the forest, her face very pale.

"Are you all right?" Melissa whispered.

Teresa slowly shifted her gaze to Melissa and nodded.

"Where's Sport?" She continued to talk softly, though there was no reason to.

"The forest. He ran into the forest." Teresa whispered, too.

"I guess we should get him." When Terry remained quiet, Melissa took her hand and started walking. *This is either one hell of a dream or I've suffered a massive concussion.* She'd never had a dream this vibrant before, and since she had last been running head first for a wall, she guessed it was probably a concussion. *Maybe when I find Sport I'll wake up.* She hoped that was true. The smell of pine trees and wet earth was distressingly strong. A small voice in her head kept insisting that this place was as real as it seemed.

She squeezed Terry's hand to comfort both of them. The other woman still looked alarmingly pale. "I wonder why you're here," Melissa mused aloud.

Terry kept her gaze on the trees as she said, "Because I jumped into the mirror after you."

"No, I mean --" an eerie yowl ahead interrupted her. It was Sport, and it sounded like he was hurt. Panicked, Melissa dropped Terry's hand and ran into the forest to find him, shouting to Teresa to follow.

She burst into the forest's interior, the shadows swallowing her footsteps and most of her wavering courage. But she had heard Sport, and it had come from this direction.

"Sporty? Sport, where are you?" Melissa trod carefully, watching each step. Trees pressed in all around her, tall and enormously thick. The branches drooped towards the ground, laden with thousands of heavy leaves. Now that the sun was going down, its light was easily overcome as it tried to creep feebly into the dusky forest.

All in all, it sent a chill racing up Melissa's spine.

"Come on Sport. Leave the gremlin thing alone."

No birds twittered happily here, or even seemed to move about the trees. Instead there was a soft wind, the rustling of some animals in the brush, and her own voice.

Melissa looked behind her, realizing that Terry hadn't followed her into the forest. She cursed softly and turned to go back when she heard the same

yowling from deeper within. Pausing indecisively, she rubbed one hand over her face. Which friend should she go back for? When Sport's hurt cry turned into one of fear, her mind was made up.

"Just stay there," Melissa murmured to both of her lost friends, before taking off after Sport.

**********

Wendell crouched in the bushes and tried not to breathe. A few meters in front of him, a young stag was calmly grazing grass, keeping his watchful eyes open. He just needed one more step, and then Wendell would have dinner.

His hand was sweaty on the knife's hilt and he tried not to think of how sharp the ends of the antlers were. *Perhaps I should have borrowed a hunting bow, instead* he thought. As he crouched here, the sweat itching down the side of his face, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to take the knife. Since he's made his decision to 'escape' from the castle he'd felt a piercing recklessness that surprised him in these quiet moments.

After he'd gotten out of the guards' view earlier, he had rubbed dirt onto his face and clothes and simply started walking. There were small farms all along the road; carts and people passed both ways. No one had even noticed him.

Sometime by mid-afternoon, hunger made his stomach tight so he paused at an empty farmhouse. There had been food there, but he couldn't steal it from out of his people's mouths. Instead he took a wicked looking hunting knife and promised the empty room he'd return it later.

After also equipping himself with a flask of water and rope for a snare, Wendell had disappeared into the Royal Forest to set the trap and wait. He had imagined it would be a rabbit that tripped it.

The stag lifted its head, its nostrils flaring as it took in some scent that Wendell could never catch. Not anymore, at least. He knew the smells were there now, and he missed the ability he'd had as a dog. Then he'd only had to sniff, and a hundred images presented themselves. He sniffed now, but could only taste the pungent tang of the bush he crouched behind.

*If I were a dog* he thought, *I could smell how old that stag was. Where it had come from. Why, if I were a dog I could leap out and chase him down. Catch him after a good hunt! Rip out his throat and gorge myself on meat!* Overwhelmed with excitement, Wendell began barking furiously. The stag bolted away from him and Wendell followed on all fours, still barking.

After only a few seconds, the stag was gone.

Wendell whined and sat back on his haunches. He stared down at his hand, wondering briefly where his paws were.

"Suck an elf!" He scrambled to stand on his feet, breathing hard. "You are NOT a dog. You are King Wendell, the human." He stared at his hands,

convincing himself they were supposed to look like that.

It had been an unforeseen side effect of the Queen's powerful spell that he occasionally went 'doggy.' As the weeks passed it was easier to control, but in stressful times Wendell could forget himself and start acting like a bloody fool. It was small comfort that Prince still had his 'human' moments.

Wendell wiped his hands on his shirt, shaking slightly. One more day as a dog and he never would have found himself again. That was more frightening than the nightmares.

Up ahead, Wendell heard a strange yowling by some creature he thought he recognized. It sounded like it was in pain. Curious, Wendell pushed his way through the underbrush toward the noise. He tried to make as much noise as he could while still walking quietly, undecided whether he wanted to run into an injured, unknown animal or not.

After several minutes' walk, the noise had stopped and Wendell still hadn't found the creature. He'd wandered into a small clearing, walled in on

all sides by tall trees and thick brush. Very little light broke through here and he kept squinting to try and see something. Anything other than the

shadowed trees and black bushes. Directly behind him, the yowling started again, accompanied by heavy rustling of the undergrowth. Wendell spun, his

knife held ready, and peered into the thick shadows.

The strange cry changed into a noise Wendell recognized -- that of a very frightened cat. He instinctively growled in response and then caught himself. Rolling his eyes at his own behavior, Wendell squatted down and held out his empty hand.

"Come here, cat," he told it expectantly. The cat looked at him, quiet for a moment, and started meowing pitifully again. "Cat. Come here." He made small gestures to it, to no effect. Frowning, he scooted closer, but the cat, a huge one from what he could see, hissed at him. "Do you wish my help or not?" It stared at him, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

When the bushes started rustling again, both stood and turned to look. Wendell slipped his knife to his hand while the cat started crying more loudly.

"Sport!" It was a woman's voice, followed closely by the woman herself. She ran into the clearing and scooped the cat into her arms with surprising

ease. Uncertain of this stranger, Wendell watched her closely while she kissed the cat all over.

"Are you all right, Sporty? I heard you crying." She planted a kiss on the cat's belly and Wendell sighed. It was just a cat after all. "I was

worried about you," she continued.

Wendell cleared his throat loudly to put a stop to the unseemly display. The woman jumped, nearly dropping Sport.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, grasping the cat closer. The shadows effectively hid her face, but Wendell imagined it was furious by her

tone of voice.

"I'm Ki-" he stopped and began again. "Wendell. Just Wendell. Who are you, miss?"

"Why?"

He raised one eyebrow in surprise. It was not unexpected, though. He was as much a stranger to her as she was to him. "I did tell you my name," he said softly. "Melissa."

He waited but she offered no further pleasantries. "And that is your cat, then?"

"Yes."

Wendell nodded. This was going well -- so far she didn't realize who he was. "And its name is Sport?"

"Yeah."

"Is he injured?"

She looked down at the cat, shifting him in her arms. "Not really."

He pursed his lips, not sure how to carry on a conversation with a peasant. What sort of things did commoners discuss? "Good crop this year?"

She stared at him in silence. *Obviously not a farmer* he decided.

"Listen," she said, "I'll just take Sport and leave you and your forest alone. I'm leaving!" she shouted to the sky for some reason. She looked around at the trees and sighed heavily. "Why didn't that work? I found Sport."

"You have to actually walk out to leave the forest," Wendell supplied. She didn't seem to be very intelligent.

"Right. I probably have to find Teresa, too. I wonder what Freud would say about this?"

*Probably that you're not playing 'Happy Families' with a full deck* Wendell thought. He didn't say it aloud, afraid to upset her in her obviously

delicate condition. She must have a very hard life. "Do you need help?"

Melissa was staring at him again. He wished he could see her well enough to see her expression.

"I know who you are," she said slowly.

*Oh blasted elf wings* Wendell sighed. *Now the whole thing will be ruined.* "There's no need to treat me any differently."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of it. You don't look anything like him, though. That's kind of odd."

"Really?" Wendell smiled. "That is exactly what I had hoped to hear."

"Whatever." Melissa turned and started back the way she'd come. "You can help if you want. I don't plan on being here long enough for it to matter."

Intrigued by her easy acceptance, and a strange desire to see her face, Wendell hurriedly followed. She made good time through the thick foliage, her arms wrapped around Sport.

"You certainly are blunt for a commoner," Wendell said when he'd caught up.

Melissa laughed dryly. "That is so typical of you. You always did think you were better than everyone else."

He frowned, perplexed. She was not like he imagined at all. "I don't interact with many of my people, I'm afraid. I expected it to be rather

different. More..." he gestured vaguely. "Groveling, I suppose."

"Groveling! You got more than enough before. There's no way I'm doing that again."

"Before?" Now he was truly confused. "Have we met?"

"Jesus." That one word dripped with disgust. "You may not look like Rob right now, but you're certainly stupid and arrogant enough to convince me."

Wendell gasped. "Stupid and arrogant? You are speaking to the King!"

"The King of Assholes. I thought I paid my dues in life. Why are you bothering me again? Here?" She was taking long, swift strides now. Wendell

was angry enough to easily keep up.

"I'll have you know --"

"Teresa!" Melissa broke into a run, crunching helpless plants underfoot as she made for the silhouetted figure at the forest's edge.

"Well if that isn't the Queen's own, I don't know what is," Wendell huffed. This peasant was nothing like he'd expected. He took more care exiting

the forest, trying not to crush any more plants. A Dandy Lion growled at him as he walked past, one of its leaves ripped off. Wendell grunted, his mind racing with thoughts of how cruel, rude, ill tempered, and un-educated the woman was. He stepped out of the forest, fully prepared to give her a piece of his mind, when his mind slipped away from him.

The sun had almost set now, but the last red and orange rays lay long across the grass and the two women who watched him. He noticed, vaguely, that

one was older, probably Antony's age, with short hair and kind eyes. But it was the other woman, the one he knew was Melissa, that had stolen his senses.

In the forest's shadows, Wendell had seen only hints of long, dark hair and sharp features. In the waning light, he also saw the striking beauty of her finely boned face, but even that meant nothing when he looked into her eyes. They were startling in their intensity, gray like a stormy morning sky. Deep within them, he saw a weariness with life that his soul responded to. Wendell knew, without knowing why, that she would understand him if he told her of all his hopes and despair. A part of him that had lain dormant all his life rose up, shouting into his soul about kindred spirits and eternity. He wanted to grab her and tell her all the things that had lay heavy on him since the Evil Queen had first turned him into a dog.

*But* he thought, seeing the shadows that darkened her eyes, *She will have to listen, first.*

"Why haven't we left yet?" she said, breaking the quiet spell that had wrapped him up.

"Are you ... asking ... me?" Wendell ventured slowly. He felt odd, like a fog had gripped his mind. He remembered being very angry, but couldn't feel it anymore.

Melissa's whole body drooped. "This is the damndest dream I've ever had."

"Dream?" The first rays of dread pierced the fog. "You think you're dreaming?"

"How else do I explain this? Meeting some handsome, arrogant guy in a forest. Jumping at a wall and landing here. A glowing mirror. It's all to

much to be anything else."

She babbled on for another minute while the word 'mirror' echoed deafeningly for Wendell. "By Snow White's grave," he breathed. "You've come

through a traveling mirror. You must be from the Tenth Kingdom." He stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders, cutting her off. "Where did you get a

traveling mirror?" It took all of his control to keep from shouting.

"Let me go."

"Tell me where you got the mirror, Melissa." Whatever haze had draped over him before had blown away entirely.

"Screw you. I don't have to tell you anything." She squirmed in his grasp, but he held on. Sport hissed warningly at him.

"There is only one traveling mirror left in all the Nine Kingdoms. That one is in my castle. This is a matter of national security. Now tell me where it is!" He shouted the last part and saw her spellbinding eyes flash.

"You arrogant son of a bitch. I'm not going to tell you anything. You're just a dream!"

Wendell squeezed her arms and then let her go. "It's not a dream. You're in the Fourth Kingdom now. You came from the Tenth Kingdom. Virginia called it New York, I believe." He rubbed the back of his neck. He doubted she would take this well. "I'm King Wendell, ruler of the Fourth Kingdom, grandson of Snow White."

Melissa barked a laugh, and Sport meowed softly. "Snow White? Like the fairy tale? What about Cinderella?"

"She still rules the First Kingdom."

"She ... rules..." Melissa took a step away, narrowing her eyes. "This is crazy."

Teresa cut off Wendell's retort. "But it's true."

Wendell and Melissa both turned to stare at the other woman. Her kind eyes had lost their dazed sheen.

"What?" Melissa whispered.

"You know its true, hon. Can't you feel it?"

"People don't just jump through mirrors into other worlds."

"Some do."

"Some have," Wendell added. "There is a man here now from your world. And surely you've heard of the valiant adventures of Virginia?"

Melissa shook her head. "Not unless you're talking about the state."

"No. She is one of the Four Who Saved the Nine Kingdoms."

"Great."

"Melissa, please. We can discuss this later. Tell me where you got the mirror."

She clenched Sport more tightly, keeping distance between herself, Teresa, and Wendell. "I didn't get it anywhere. We were in my kitchen... I can't

believe this is true. I was running at a wall, why can't I be unconscious?"

The plaintive tone of voice made Wendell wish it were so, if only for her sake. She sounded terribly frightened.

Teresa spoke again. "Sometimes life goes beyond what you can see, dear. Sometimes you just have to feel."

"Where is the mirror?" Wendell insisted. He had to know.

Those startling eyes merely watched him, and he saw the tumultuous war of her thoughts within. "You can only get back home through the mirror, Melissa. There is no other way. If I must, I will wait until you return to it to go home and find it then. Save us all from that nonsense and tell me where it is."

Resignation flickered across her beautiful features. "We left it over that rise."

He saw the rise easily enough and started running towards it.

He heard Melissa shout after him to wait, but he didn't stop until he'd crested the grassy knoll. The two women stopped next to him a short minute

later, and he heard Melissa's distinct groan.

"It's gone."

**********

Grojavek stomped an innocent plant and then crushed another out of spite. He had made it out of the Tenth Kingdom alive, and even managed to bite that horrible cat, but now he'd lost the mirror!

He knew Muklavuk wanted him to bring it to the Imps so they could have their own kingdom, with Groj as the ruler. Groj had always wanted to be a

ruler, not just an imp to use and abuse. He would be a wise king. And the most handsome, if he could get his nose fixed. He went cross-eyed trying to see it before he toppled dizzily to the ground.

That nose was a problem he couldn't solve, yet. She would be able to fix it, but he didn't think She would without the mirror. She would probably just kill him if he arrived without it.

Groj sighed miserably. He hated risking his life so much. This wasn't what the future Imp King should be doing.

He was certain Muklavuk would take care of Her once She let Groj in. But Groj had to get the mirror first.

"Stupid woman!" he pouted, punching the earth futilely. He got up and then threw himself back to the ground and buried his face in the soil. Ideas

fought for their lives in the craziness of his mind. He had to find the mirror! But where was it?

Groj raised his head, slurping up an earthworm stuck to his lip. His buggy eyes gleamed with excitement. He knew where the mirror was! That

horrible cat had chased him out of it and if those stupid women hadn't broken it, he could find it again. He leapt to his feet, giggling. Groj hadn't been

this happy since he'd stolen that elf-all mirror.

Skipping and squealing, Grojavek scurried off to retrieve it, planning what his first laws would be. He was going to be king!

**********

"Don't panic," Wendell said, as much to himself as the two women. "Maybe we just can't see it from up here because it's almost dark."

Thirty minutes and a thorough search were all it took to prove that theory wrong. It had also given him enough time to decide that someone must have

stolen the mirror from his castle. The first mirror was hopelessly shattered and most of the pieces were hiding in a barn near Kissingtown anyway. The

second mirror, according to Gustav, was at the bottom of the Great North Sea. No one knew where, and none could find anything in that ocean, it was far too

deep.

That left only his own mirror, and a few slim possibilities. Figuring out it had been stolen wasn't the hard part. The hard part was how? And why? He pulled back another bush to find only more bushes and exhaled heavily. And who.

Wolf and Virginia had keys to get out of the Mirror room if they ever arrived unannounced. It was possible that they were here and had forgotten to

lock the door behind them, letting some thief in. But Virginia was too paranoid about it being stolen again for that to realistically happen. Very little could keep her from making sure everything was properly locked.

Wendell felt his stomach turn. What if they came over while the mirror was missing? Something terrible could happen to his two dearest friends.

The whole experience made him sick. How could someone get to the mirror unless they had a key? There was simply no way to sneak something that size

out. Either great betrayal or great magic was at work here -- and he hated the thought of either option.

He trudged back up to the top of the rise to wait for Melissa and Teresa, who were still valiantly searching. Both had looked unhappy when they'd found the mirror missing, but it was Melissa who worried him the most. She was frantic, even now, going over bushes that had already been searched, and peering under places that would never hide a mirror. She hadn't even let go of Sport, and the cat had started to struggle in her arms.

Still, Wendell was glad for the time alone. He was afraid of looking into Melissa's eyes again. Every time he did, that same thick desire enveloped him, leaving him helpless.

He was too much his grandmother's blood to not know what was happening. Beyond all rational thought and though he'd known her no more than an hour,

Wendell White was falling desperately in love.

The ramifications of that were all too rational and real, however.

He watched her now in the early evening's dark, as she knelt to flip a rock over. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, but Wendell had known

many beautiful women as Prince, and especially as King, and none of them had had this effect. Up until now, they had never been more important to him than a

treasured tapestry.

Melissa was like the painting hanging in his room, the one that had been done by his father. He could recall it instantly -- a simple, lonely cottage by a clear stream. Wendell had never had a chance to ask him if it meant anything. It was one of the few things he had to remember the man he had hardly known, and it was more important to him than any of the riches scattered throughout his castle. She felt familiar to him. Loved and trusted.

*Catch hold of yourself, Wendell! You don't even know her. Look what she did to those plants, and how she treated you.*

He rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully. *But she thought she was dreaming. She thought I was some man named 'Rob.' It is to be expected that

she reacted badly.*

*Even so,* he continued the internal dialogue, keeping an eye on the women, *Don't be an idiot. You don't know her. At all. Not even a tiny bit.

She could be as awful as the Queen. Not every woman who comes through that Mirror will be like Virginia.*

*It doesn't matter. I would love her still.* His mouth dropped open, forming an 'O.' "It's true," he whispered softly. He cursed vehemently to

himself. He couldn't love a woman he didn't know. It just wasn't possible.

She was climbing the small rise slowly, her face creased with emotional fatigue. He started to move towards her, to take her in his arms, and forcibly stopped himself. "No luck, either?" he said instead.

Melissa frowned at him, sending chills up his arms, and sighed. "No. None at all. How could we have lost a mirror that size? I don't get it."

"Someone must have come through and seen it. It happens quite a lot here."

"Then 'someone' needs to be taught to leave things alone." Melissa settled onto the ground, still clutching Sport, who was looking resigned.

"Who's Rob?"

"What?"

Wendell hid a grimace while asking himself the same thing. Where had those words come from? "Earlier. In the forest. You called me 'Rob.'"

"Oh." He caught some dark emotion in her face before she turned it away from him. "He's my ex-husband."

Wendell's breath caught in his throat and struggled to get past the lump that burned there. "Is he ... dead?"

"Not likely." He thought that she sounded disappointed. "We divorced years ago. Listen, I apologize for that. I thought this was all fake.

Frankly, I still do."

He swallowed, hard, and tried to smile. "No need to apologize. Virginia had it a little easier when we first met because I was a talking dog."

Melissa blinked slowly. "A talking dog?"

"I was under a spell."

"Mmm."

"I was," he said, his fingers clenching.

"And now you're a king?"

"Yes. Ruler of the Fourth Kingdom."

"New spell?"

"What? No. Why would-" he looked down at his ragged peasant's clothing, touched his dirty cheeks, and laughed. "It is rather a good disguise, isn't it?" he asked proudly.

"I'll say," she muttered. He was saved from further comment by Teresa's arrival. Melissa rushed over to the older woman, talking quietly and making

sure she was all right. It was obvious that they cared very much for each other. He would have thought Teresa was her mother, except it was impossible.

Melissa could not have been descended from someone so plain. It wasn't due to anything that Teresa lacked, it was just that Melissa had so much.

"Now what?" She was talking to him again, looking at him strangely. *I hope she didn't catch me staring* he thought.

"That is a good question." Wendell looked up, noting that the moon was hanging just on the edge of the horizon. It was half-full, which would provide only a little light. "Our best option is to get some sleep. We have no idea where the mirror went, and we won't be able to see well enough to find a trail until morning. It will be safe here."

She eyed him with a disturbing amount of distrust, before finally setting Sport down. The cat meowed gratefully and stretched himself out, favoring one paw.

"Is your cat all right?"

"Yeah. He just has a small cut. Are you all right to stay, Terry?"

The older woman nodded. "I'm too tired to continue on tonight anyway. Do you have any food, Wendell?"

Wendell bit his lower lip in dismay. Where had his recklessness come from that he had left the castle without any food at all? "I'm afraid not, madam. I know some of the plants in the forest are edible..." he trailed off, remembering the rabbit trap he'd set earlier. He snapped his fingers and beamed. "I *might* have a little meat. You two stay here, and I will return in a while."

They stared at him silently.

Taking that as acceptance, he turned, stopped, and looked back. "Don't. Move." He punctuated each word with a shake of his finger, and then was off into the forest again.

He had to backtrack to where he'd first entered the forest and followed the small stream back to where he'd set the trap. The entire time he struggled to keep thoughts of Melissa at bay. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through an entire evening with her near. Sleep would probably be out of the question.

"The Queen's own," he cursed softly. "I'm as bad as Wolf. I have to get this under control. The Ruler of the Fourth Kingdom can not just blindly fall for some unknown woman." Satisfied that this reminder would see him through, he realized he had passed the trap and had to find his way back in the almost solid dark.

Ahead he heard the soft sounds of a struggle, and when he came out of the bushes, the rabbit doubled its frantic efforts to get away. He pulled out his knife and knelt down next to the little creature, who had grown absolutely still except for the sharp in-and-out movement of his sides. Wendell looked into the rabbit's wide, wild eyes, and lowered the knife.

A woman who kissed the stomach of her cat -- who would follow her cat into a Traveling Mirror in the first place -- would not likely appreciate the fact that he brought her rabbit for dinner.

"We have to eat," he told the little rabbit. It twitched its nose and waited for death. "This sort of thing happens all the time. I have had rabbit before, and its quite tender." Still it waited.

"Suck an elf," he hissed, slicing the rope in one swift movement. The rabbit stood there, unaware it was free. "Well go on," he told it, making

'shooing' gestures.

It hopped forward once and, when it wasn't tugged back like before, hopped to the edge of the treeline. Stopping there, the little white rabbit looked back at Wendell, nose twitching. //The woodsman has your mirror. He lives at the end of the stream.// And then the rabbit was gone.

**********

Melissa kept a close watch over Sport, who was currently grooming himself from head to foot and shooting her dirty looks. He still favored his left front paw, but from what she could tell it wasn't anything serious, just a small cut that looked fairly clean.

A cut he'd received from somewhere in a forest.

Which was somewhere in a strange world.

Which was only accessible through a magic mirror.

Which meant today was either the worst or the best day of her life.

She tried to protest to herself that it was all a dream still, but she knew better, deep down. She could feel its reality. That didn't mean she had

to like it, though.

"I can't wait to get out of here. This is really bizarre."

Teresa shrugged silently.

"You're pretty quiet, Terry. Is something wrong? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you."

"Me?" Melissa smiled too brightly. "No problems here. A little hungry and really tired."

Teresa's eyes were all knowing. "You're frightened of this place."

Melissa couldn't lie to that stare. "Yes. Aren't you?" She leaned forward, gesturing sharply. "Look at this! I don't know where the hell we are! And it's looking really unlikely like we're going to get back. Ever."

"Back to what?"

"Home. Back to where we belong and what we know."

"Back to our routine."

Melissa pursed her lips. "That's not what I meant."

Teresa just shrugged again, and Melissa let her be. *She's just as frightened as I am* she told herself, picking up a fallen twig and snapping it

in half. *That's why she's being so obstinate.*

The silence settled between them, tinged with unease. A small animal scavenged in the nearby bushes, and in the distance an owl was calling. Melissa lay down on her back, staring up at the clear night sky. Stars danced across it, glittering merrily; she watched one streak across her line of sight and disappear behind the trees.

She slowed her breathing, inhaling deeply of the crisp air. "Sure is nice here," she breathed, exhaling evenly.

"You always did like the outdoors."

"You always hated them." Melissa smiled at the memories of being eight years old and dragging Teresa camping. "Do you remember when we went to

Yosemite?" She laughed softly. "That campsite with the bear trap?"

She heard Teresa laugh, too. "You wanted to put meat in it! I couldn't believe that, even for you. You pouted about that for hours."

"I didn't pout." Melissa raised up one elbow, eyebrows raised. "I just decided to read the rest of the evening."

"You read the car manual."

Melissa grinned. "I was studying to be a mechanic."

They both started giggling, and Teresa lay down next to her on the grass, taking her hand. "I know you could have done anything you wanted, hon, but you were destined to be a star."

She squeezed Teresa's hand in thanks. The words she wanted to say lodged in her heart, refusing to escape. As much as she wished she could, she'd never been able to tell Terry certain things, the things the other woman most deserved to hear. So many chances had passed them by.

She wasn't sure what Teresa was thinking, but her own thoughts were a maze of memories, which eventually led to the present.

Finally, Melissa asked: "What do you think of Wendell?"

"I don't know. He seems very ... earnest."

"Earnest." Melissa mulled the word over, liking how it fit him. "Good choice. I was going to say 'pompous,' but I like yours better."

"Missy." Teresa's voice warned her to behave.

"He thinks he's the king!"

"Maybe he is."

"Maybe." She considered that realistically and dismissed it. "No, I can't believe it. He'd probably be very handsome if he wasn't so dirty. At

least he has that going for him."

"I'm so glad I brought you up to respect men."

Melissa laughed loudly. "Hey, it's only what they deserve. I know they all think about me in the same way. Wendell probably isn't any different. You never meet true gentlemen anymore, not even in strange worlds, I'll bet."

"Now who's the cynic?"

"It's experience talking." Melissa unlinked her hand from Teresa's and stretched both arms over her head, feeling the blood rush through her body. She curled her arms under her head and sighed. "What I wouldn't give to find one good man."

Teresa turned her head, and Melissa could see the question reflected in her eyes by the half-moon light. "What would he be like?"

She smiled and looked up into the stars. "He'd be kind, but not weak. He's got to be strong enough to accept the fact that I often kiss other men for a living. He has to have his own life and his own hobbies, too. He should be funny. And definitely worldly. Cultured, but he has to appreciate the

outdoors. He has to love cats. But more than all that, he has to love me for who I am, and not because I'm some famous actress." Melissa's smile slipped

away. "Which means I'll either be a spinster or married to some Australian who lives in the Outback."

She felt Teresa pat her elbow. "You're not that famous dear. I'm sure I could find you some nice Southerner."

Smiling, Melissa pointed at another falling star. "And I want to feel like *that* when he kisses me."

"You don't ask for much do you?"

*Just true love,* she thought.

**********

Wendell ran back along the stream, occasionally losing his footing and splashing into it until his boots were heavy with water. He had to get back,

quickly, and get the women's help. He had spared only enough time to verify that there was an inhabited cottage before running back to Melissa to tell her.

He burst out of the forest and pounded towards them, gasping for breath, his legs burning.

A few minutes later he had nearly collapsed at their feet, holding up a hand to stall questions. When he was certain he wasn't going to die, he sucked in extra air and told them what had happened.

"I found..." Wendell wheeze, "the mirror."

"You did?"

"Where is it?"

"You don't have it with you, do you?"

He shook his head, saving his breath. "I'll ... show you," he mumbled. "Just as ... soon .... as I can stand."

Shortly after that he was leading them to the stream. Melissa walked next to him with Sport back in her arms; Terry was a few steps behind.

"How did you find it?" Melissa asked.

"A rabbit told me."

"A rabbit?"

"Yes. He was caught in my snare so I set him free."

"You set him free? Why did you do that? We're starving!"

Wendell gaped at her. "I thought you wouldn't eat rabbit."

"Why not? At this point I'd eat insects."

"But, I saw how you treated your cat. You don't seem like the kind of woman who would eat a bunny."

Melissa shrugged one shoulder. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Wendell."

"Then you shall have to tell me everything."

She looked away, and he thought he might have pushed too far until she said, "First, I'm not from New York like this 'Virginia' girl. She might be,

but it's not the only city in America. I'm from Los Angeles."

"Los Angeles." Wendell repeated it slowly. "We name our kingdoms after the Great Queen that ruled them or the current inhabitants. For example, Red Riding Hood's kingdom is the Second Kingdom and the Third Kingdom is also referred to as the Troll Kingdom. What should we call the Tenth Kingdom?"

She went quiet for a long minute, her lips pursing. "I suppose the 'Tenth Kingdom' is fine," she finally said.

He nodded. "We usually we refer to them by their numbers."

"How many are there, total?"

"Nine. Well, ten now. Up until several months ago, it was considered a myth."

"A myth? And here I thought talking bunnies were the myth." He saw her smile and had to smile in response.

"The Traveling Mirrors were hidden and no one had used them in a long time. Since that is the only way to get to the Tenth Kingdom, no one ever

went."

"So what changed?"

Wendell pushed aside some bushes. They were about halfway there by now, and making good time. "The Evil Queen cast a spell that caused myself and her dog to switch bodies. I accidentally found the mirror, which brought me to New York, and Virginia. She and her father, Antony, came back here to help me restore my true form. As you can see, they succeeded, and they saved my Kingdom."

"Nice of them."

Wendell easily detected the disbelief. Melissa shifted Sport in her arms, groaning a little. It went against every instinct, but he had to ask her,

"Would you like me to hold him for you?"

Melissa paused, re-shifting Sport again. "No, that's alright. He doesn't always like strangers."

"Oh good," Wendell breathed, relieved he wouldn't have to touch the cat. He hadn't liked them much before his change, but he nearly detested them now. They were so superior.

"Why didn't you take the rabbit for yourself?"

He openly stared at her, dismayed she would even think to ask. "I could not eat while you and Teresa were hungry. That would be out of the question."

"That's remarkably sweet of you."

"I should hope no one would ever do that." He almost felt insulted, but chalked it p to her being from a different world.

"People do it all the time where I live."

"That's terrible."

She had partially buried her face in Sport's fur, and her words were muffled. "It's how life is. I've done it."

"You've taken food from others?"

"Not exactly. But I've eaten and let others go hungry." He was afraid she would smother herself, she was so pressed against her cat. But he

understood her guilt, and had come to know it intimately as king.

"Are you a ruler in your world?"

"No. Many people know me, though. Do you have actors here?"

"We do have some plays. They're generally silly things, and only performed during festivals."

"In my world, we place a high priority on 'plays.' All kinds: dramatic and funny and even ones with music. I'm an actress in some of those."

"Really?" Wendell looked her over carefully. He would certainly watch her perform something. She was magnificent to look at with those eyes of hers, and he was already in love with the rich feeling of her voice. It would be easy to see her as famous in her world. "That sounds marvelous, Melissa."

"It's not anymore."

Wendell's heart seized and he tripped over a slick rock on the stream's shore. "I'm ok," he said, waving her help off and righting himself. Had

something changed her mind? Was it possible she might be convinced to stay here? *Don't be a fairying fool, Wendell* he scolded himself. *If she was

going to stay, she wouldn't be so frantic about finding the mirror.* Still... He struggled to keep his voice calm as he asked, "You are not happy as an

actress?"

She lifted her head, but still didn't look at him. "No. I'm not. Sometimes you just realize how completely miserable your life is. I don't

imagine you would understand that, especially living here."

He stopped, and held her back gently by the shoulder. "You would be surprised," he said softly. Her eyes met his, and for a moment he was certain

she felt the jolt that lanced between them. Her lips parted, but whatever words lingered there were cut off by Sport's unexpected growling.

Melissa stepped back, looking down at Sport and hiding her face from Wendell. He snarled at the cat, gaining a stern look from Teresa, who had been

quietly watching them. Controlling himself, he pushed through the bushes and stumbled into the woodsman's clearing. He'd been so caught up with Melissa that he hadn't realized they were this close. There was a cottage a short distance away, surrounded by bushes and a lot of chopped wood. A dog was in the yard, the biggest, meanest dog Wendell had ever seen, tied up to the most enormous tree trunk he had ever seen. When the dog saw them, it stopped gnawing on the dead human in front of it and its three heads began barking furiously, setting off Sport in hysterical yowls and spitting.

Amidst all the noise, the door to the small cottage opened wide, and a huge man filled the lit doorway. "Who's there?" he shouted, taking a step out. In his hands was a very large axe.

Wendell put himself in front of Melissa and held his hands slightly out in greeting. "Good evening, sir. I hate to disturb you, but I believe you have our mirror." It was almost impossible to ignore the slavering beast, but he did his best to remain calm. "It was just on the edge of the forest a few hours ago."

"Your mirror? Aye, I found it," the man admitted. "Someone left it on the ground so I took it. You obviously didn't want it."

"We do want it!" Melissa said over the continuing noise, coming even with Wendell. He noticed she wasn't looking at the dog, either.

"Melissa," he hissed, "let me handle this." He put on his best placating tone. "Good sir, I am King Wendell White, and I can pay you handsomely for that mirror."

The man hefted his axe in an incredibly threatening innocent gesture. "I don't give a bloody rabbit's foot who you are. And I don't need any money. I'll give it to you in trade, though."

"Fine. What do you want?" That was Melissa again.

"A game, m'lady. You must guess my name by the time I finish chopping that tree down. If you succeed, you get the mirror. If you fail, then he," he pointed at the dog, who had barked himself into a lather by now and was using his two free heads to rend the dead body, "gets free and has his own fun. Do you accept?"

"Guess your name? How the hell are we going to do that?"

Wendell felt some memory rise up and he waved at Melissa to be quiet. Smiling, he addressed the man calmly. "We accept."

"Are you insane?" Melissa gasped while the woodsman lumbered over to the three. He reared back and took a huge chunk out of the trunk. The dog's heads started howling with excitement. "You're going to get us killed."

"Not at all." He heard the solid chunk of the axe hitting wood again. "Antony told me about this man while we were saving the Kingdom. They had to

get his axe to save Virginia from her long hair." He saw the question leap into Melissa's eyes and held up a finger to stall it. Too many axe swings had passed already, even though it was a huge tree. "His name is Juliet." Wendell shouted loud enough so Juliet could hear him call his name. He waited for the man's surrender, smiling victoriously, when he heard another thunderous chunk.

Wendell spun around in surprise. "Juliet! Your name is Juliet!"

"Not anymore. I legally changed it a couple of months ago." The man swung at the tree and took another large piece out. Although it was many feet

thick, the Woodsman Formerly Known as Juliet already had it a quarter done.

Melissa thumped him angrily on the arm. "Great job, King," she muttered, going to huddle next to Teresa.

Wendell stared helplessly at the tree while another chunk flew out.

**********

"Madeline? Charles? Diana? Marcus?" Wendell shot off names as fast as he could, trying to get multiple guesses per axe-swing. With Melissa and

Teresa's help, he had gone over every name he could immediately think of with no success. And the dog's simultaneous howling and barking drove out most other coherent thought.

He watched the woodsman slice another section of trunk and shuddered. The huge tree was starting to move -- just a little, but not a good sign at all. "You two run the second that ... dog breaks loose," Wendell said, turning to face them. "It can only really get one of us, even if its got three heads. I should be able to stall it long enough for -" there was another ka-chunk and the tree groaned " - for you to get out. Go to my castle and they will help you."

Melissa, who had her hands full with Sport wriggling and hissing, shook her head fiercely. "That's ridiculous! Even if you are a king, who's going -" she winced when the axe struck again, "- to believe that we didn't kill you? I'd rather we all take our chances together."

"We don't have time to argue."

"Exactly."

Ka-chunk. Wendell grimaced as leaves fluttered around them. "I will not let anything happen to you or Teresa," he said.

"How exactly are you going to stop it?" Before he could answer she had stepped away from him, trying to settle Sport down as she did. "HEY! You!"

The man cocked his head in their direction but didn't stop chopping. "Can't we strike a deal here?"

The man laughed without humor. "My lady, we already have!" He reared back and made a particularly deep cut in the tree. Wendell shivered with

branches.

Sport's yowling increased as Melissa got even closer to the insane woodsman. Wendell followed her, unwilling to let her face him alone, no matter

how foolishly she was behaving.

"No, my friend made that deal. I want to make a different one with you."

"Sorry. One deal per group, that's how it works."

Melissa said something Wendell couldn't hear over the animals' challenges to each other. But he easily made out her scream when Sport finally escaped from her grasp. The orange tabby, who looked pitifully small compared to the hulking, three-headed beast, ran straight at the dog. The cat's short fur was standing straight up and he stopped just out of reach, spitting madly.

"Sport, no!" Melissa cried, lunging after him. Wendell tried to grab her arm, but he only managed to get his fingertips around her elbow before she

pulled out of his grasp. She stumbled forward and he watched, horrified, as she smacked into the woodsman, who was in the middle of another swing. The axe,

glinting in the light from the house, bounced off course, slicing the dog's three heads off at the base where the necks met.

The heads bounced to the ground and rolled into Sport, who jumped backwards, his snarls the only sound in the eerie silence.

Melissa had fallen to one knee, and the cat ran to her, climbing up her back while she yelped and struggled to stand. The woodsman was staring at the disembodied body of his dog, the axe fallen from his hands.

"You killed Fluffy," he mumbled.

Wendell took the opportunity to drag Melissa farther back, edging her towards Teresa, who hadn't said a word. The woodsman bent and picked up the

heads, which had frozen with mouths hanging open. Blood streamed from the neck, and everywhere it touched air, it steamed. The body was held up, barely, by the chain that was already starting to slip off of the stump that was left. It was a horrible sight.

The man turned his head towards them, and Wendell's stomach clenched. "You killed my dog," the woodsman repeated, anger choking his words.

Wendell felt his patience fraying. "Actually, sir, you killed the dog."

"I did not!"

"It was your axe!"

He felt Melissa tugging on his shirt as the woodsman picked his axe up and waved it at him. "You ruined the deal!" the man roared. More leaves fluttered down from above.

"PRINCESS!"

Everyone in the clearing went absolutely still, frozen by the shrill voice.

"Princess what are you doing out there?" Wendell glanced at Melissa and Teresa, and although the older woman was very pale, neither looked like they

knew the intruder.

Wendell and Melissa simultaneously mouthed to each other, "Princess?"

The woodsman lowered the axe and turned towards the open door. Wendell looked to the doorway as well, seeing another tall figure, indeterminate in the odd lighting though the voice was obviously female.

"They ruined my game," the woodsman bellowed, kicking some dirt.

"It serves you right after bringing home that mirror!" She stepped out of the house and Wendell noticed that her hair was wriggling. Wriggling hair meant only one thing in the Fourth Kingdom -- the Medusa. He forced Melissa to put her back to the woman and spun Teresa around moments later.

"Don't turn around," he ordered both of them. "If you look in her eyes, it will turn you to stone. Look there," he pointed at a few statues that none of them had seen earlier in their panic.

"It must not work anymore, though," Melissa protested. "Princess isn't affected by it."

"That's because he's blind."

"A blind woodsman?"

"His name *is* Princess."

"But still--"

"Let's have this discussion later, hm?"

Wendell chanced a slow look at the ground and saw that Princess was standing in front of the Medusa. He could hear their angry babbling, but both

were talking too fast to be understood.

"Excuse me," Wendell shouted, hoping not to make either one angrier. "Madam? You said you have a mirror?"

"That's right! This bloody idiot brings one home this evening, pleased as can be at his 'gift.'" He heard her hack and spit something on the ground. "It's thoughtless, is what it is."

"Why don't you give it to them, then? They say it's their mirror." Princess sounded like he was pouting.

"I already got rid of it, you fool! It was too dangerous to keep here!"

Wendell stifled a despairing groan. "What did you do with it?"

He could feel the Medusa's stare boring into his back and forced himself not to look.

"A trader came through," she said after a minute, disappointed. "I traded it for a new frying pan. He was heading that way." She must have been

pointing, though he didn't bother to see.

"Wonderful," Wendell sighed. "We'll be going now. Our apologies for the interruption."

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?"

"Quite sure, thank you." He gently pushed Melissa and Teresa forward. "Let's leave quickly," he told them in a quiet voice. They nearly ran into the bushes, Princess and his medusa's argument disappearing behind the slam of the cottage door. Silence was the only thing that followed them.

**********

Melissa wouldn't have stopped running if Wendell hadn't called her back.

"What was that?" she hissed, afraid the crazy woodsman and his wife were following them.

"I assume you're speaking of the Medusa. There is only ever one alive at one time in the Nine Kingdoms, so I can assure you she is the only one we will be running into. I never imagined she would settle down."

"And she can really turn people to stone?"

Wendell frowned at her. "Whether you believe in it or not, magic exists here, Melissa, and it is almost always dangerous. You must not take anything magical lightly, or it could cost you your life."

She started to argue with him and then realized there was no way to make an argument stick. Hedging her bets was the safest choice, at this point. She slowed down to wait for Teresa, who was walking behind them again. "Are you doing all right?" she whispered, concerned at the strange look in Terry's eyes.

"Yes. I'm just a little tired, though."

"We've had a busy day." She tried not to think of the image of the headless dog. "Wendell," she called louder, causing him to stop. "Don't you

think we should get some sleep? We're exhausted."

He hurried back to them, hands clenched at his sides. In his pale eyes she recognized a deep concern, and something else that wasn't quite real. "I am very sorry, Melissa. I didn't mean to push either of you. It is very important we find the mirror, but not at such a cost. I'm afraid the only place to sleep is the ground, though. Not quite a fitting bed for a famous woman."

"Or a king," Melissa retorted.

"Point taken." He looked more pleased than angry. "Will you be all right to sleep out here, Teresa?"

The older woman smiled tiredly. "I believe I would sleep on rocks right now."

Melissa squeezed her arm gently. "I'll set up a comfortable bed for you. You won't even realize you're sleeping on the ground. Can you walk just a

little while more until we find a suitable spot?"

"I could carry you," Wendell piped in, his words touching Melissa's heart.

She could see Teresa felt the same way by the light in her eyes. "I'm not an invalid, dears. I can make it awhile longer. But thank you for the offer."

Wendell, casting a questioning glance to Melissa first, led them along for another few minutes before finding a place where they could have a fire for warmth. Already the night air was getting chilly, much more than it would in Los Angeles. Melissa gathered branches and large leaves while Wendell

disappeared to gather food. Calling on old skills, she fashioned a sort of bed for Terry. "See?" she said proudly, once it was complete. "I knew being a Girl Scout would be useful someday."

She half expected to hear Wendell's voice, asking her what a 'Girl Scout' was, but he still had not returned. Melissa had the feeling he'd meant what he'd said earlier about wanting to know everything about her. It was the way he looked, when she caught him staring. His gaze was very intense. It reminded her of Rob before he'd changed. Before he'd turned dangerous.

"Where are you, hon?"

"I'm right here, Terry." Melissa reached down to scratch Sport, who was inspecting Teresa's bed. "That's a silly question."

Terry smiled the peculiar smile of an old woman that knows too much. "Your body is here, but your mind is not." Melissa didn't offer an opening for

discussion, but the other woman pressed anyway. "Rob?"

"What about him?"

"You always look like that when you think of him."

Melissa couldn't meet her eyes, not wanting to concede defeat. "Honestly, Terry, you think about him more than I do. I was thinking about this place. He's in the past."

"Yes," Teresa snapped. Melissa looked at her then, surprised to hear the tension. It was so rare for Terry to be upset about anything. "He is." She waved a perfectly manicured finger in front of Melissa's nose. "And you can tell me that you don't think of him, but don't you lie to yourself. Don't ever lie to yourself, Melissa Dukavski."

Melissa's resistance crumbled. She had no defenses where Terry was concerned. "I hate him," she whispered. "I think about him and I hate him. I

hate that he was never punished. That's what bothers me most. I can't stop thinking about it."

"You have to try. Revenge will devour your whole life. It'll change you, just as surely as drugs." She wrapped her arm around Melissa's shoulders. "Most of the time you won't get revenge for the evils you see committed. It's not fair, but it's life."

"What kind of a life is that? What kind of a world do we live in?"

Teresa brushed her hand across Melissa's hair. "The only world you know. Revenge is a dangerous force, Missy, especially when it hides under justice's cloak. Don't forget that, no matter what world you're in." She let go then, and sat down on her bed as Wendell came back into the clearing.

His face, shadowed by the forest canopy, still shone with pleasure. Melissa smiled just to look at him as he cradled a fair amount of food in his

arms.

"Success!" he announced. He had a remarkable voice. Every word was uttered so precisely, layered by his accent. She decided that she loved to

listen to him talk.

He set all the food next to Teresa and than sat down in the dirt. "These are wonderberries," he said, plucking a bright blue berry from the pile. "They are very good, but very sweet. I also found some tubers. These," he held up a long, dirty root-looking piece of food, "are rather bland but very healthy." He handed the tuber to Melissa, his gaze expectant.

She turned it over in her hands and brushed some of the dirt off. It was like being in LA, where everyone this year was a vegetarian. "Thank you,

Wendell. This is really great."

From his smile she decided that was the right response. *If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging* she thought. They split the food up evenly and began to eat in silence. After awhile, Melissa spit out a wonderberry seed and asked, "What are we going to do next? Where do we go from here?"

Wendell hastily wiped his chin. "Well, I thought we should follow the trader's tracks. You can see where the cart went, when the moonlight hits it. In the morning it should be quite easy to follow."

"Won't the trader have gone quite a ways?"

"I imagine whoever it is will have already stopped for the evening, just as we have. We won't catch up, but I don't believe it is a hopeless cause." She nodded and held back the rest of her questions. There were parts of this situation that Melissa didn't quite understand, and knew she probably

wasn't prepared to. They finished their meal and Terry stretched out on her bed, complimenting it loudly. Melissa hushed her quickly, embarrassed.

Stoking the small fire, Wendell huddled closer to it, having given his cloak to Teresa to use. Melissa could feel his eyes on her again. Sport curled at her feet while she idly stroked his fur, the soft hairs tickling her fingertips. At this time yesterday she had been at home and awake, watching

some late night movie with no plot and bad acting, grateful simply that it wasn't one of hers. She'd had several glasses of wine but still suffered from

the insomnia that had plagued her for months now. Her future worried her as much as her present did, and her conscience kindly topped it all off with guilt

that she worried at all. Melissa couldn't get past the reality that no one would understand, much less care, about the whimpering of a world-famous

actress. Why would she have problems? they all asked. Most people thought any problems she had were made up.

The only people she didn't have to pay to listen to her were here with her now.

"Are you cold?" Wendell asked softly. The firelight caressed his face, hiding the dirt in shadows until she almost believed he was a king in disguise.

But that was ridiculous. Melissa knew better than anyone that only happened in the movies.

"I'm fine. The fire's nice."

He smiled, and she saw for the first time how charming his smile was. Infectious. "I don't have many chances to use my outdoorsman skills," he

admitted.

"Me either." She continued to stroke Sport, who purred contentedly.

"Why doesn't he run away?"

She looked down at the orange tabby who was stretched completely out now. "I've had Sport since he was a few days old. I hand-reared him because his mother had died. He's been following me around for years. Usually it's annoying, but I'm glad now."

Wendell had his knees drawn up and his head rested on them. His eyes never left her face. "Have you had many pets?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "He's my first, actually. I never really had time before."

"What changed?"

Melissa watched the steady movement of her hand, not wanting to answer that question. What had changed was Rob. She had been so lonely then that when she'd stumbled on the box of kittens she wanted to keep all of them. But after the vet's warning of how difficult it would be -- and Rob's concealed threats -- she had kept only Sport. He had helped her as much as Terry had.

"Melissa?"

Her gaze jerked up, and his eyes captured and held her. Still, it wasn't enough. "My life changed," she said, biting off the words. Wendell frowned, so quickly she thought she imagined it, and looked away.

"We should go to sleep," he said, lying down and pillowing his head on his arm. "You are sure you're not cold?"

Melissa lay down across from him, her eyes suddenly heavy. Sport curled up against her knees, still purring. *How nice it would be to sleep next to

someone again* she thought. "Are you?" she asked aloud. *If he answers 'yes,' then there's no harm in suggesting it.*

Wendell's blue eyes seemed deep and dark in the flickering shadows. He had to know what she was thinking. She could feel him inside her mind.

"No," he whispered. "I'm not cold." He shut his eyes then and turned onto his back.

Melissa lay awake long into the night, watching the fire as it danced across his cheeks.

**********