a/n: it seems I was too heavy last chapter; Rapunzel doesn't necessarily hate the Wolf but she does hate what he's subjecting her to; a leash, just like the enchantress had done. To Rapunzel, this is the greatest of all misdeeds because she's been so sheltered to all other forms of cruelty. Hopefully, I'll be able to clarify it more later.
The Wolf was on the cross, and Rapunzel was the only unfortunate individual around to witness it though truly it wasn't her fault – directly. Earlier, when she'd attempted to hike down to where a hot spring was (tiny, cramped but wonderfully nonetheless), the Wolf had snarled and chased her back into the cottage and told her to stay. Rapunzel had protested vehemently but the Wolf was quick to show her his teeth. After that, he'd galloped away, sending flurries of snow from his fast paws and his breath fogged the air white.
He tracked the scents – the magic and evil that poured from it was enough to send flocks of birds scattering to the other side of the woods, the other was natural but wise and powerful. There were no visible footprints but both scents were carried strongly by the wind and ground.
The Wolf heard a crunch of snow and saw an enormous stag with flared nostrils and giant antlers. A forest guardian – seeing a Stag of that enormous size and wisdom and majesty was a nonexistent thing since the enchantress made her home in these woods. All it meant was that she was losing her hold over this place. The Wolf stopped quickly in front of the Stag, looking up at him. The Stag caught sight of the Wolf and lowered his head in a polite bow. "Hail friend and enemy mine," he called to the Wolf, his voice deep and light as a knight's.
His haunches rippled with muscle and his fur shined gloriously thick, his antlers curved and stretched like strong branches, his eyes were large and brown but wiser than any else the Wolf had bore witness to. The Wolf bowed back and came closer, "Stag, have you smelled the witch in the air?"
The Stag snorted, "Aye, it burns my nose and makes my eyes water. Like the fire-smoke pellets the hunters from the North use. She has lost much of her power though, I remember from when I was fawn that I could barely eat anything that grew in the heart of this forest."
The Wolf nodded, "She grieves, I think."
The Stag lifted his proud head and eyed the Wolf, long, powerful neck stretching, "Why would you say that, Wolf?"
"To tell you the truth, Stag, I've stolen something precious of hers. Something of a fine treasure or doll."
The Stag rolled his eyes, "That would be something the humans are good for." Here, his nose tweaked gently, "You smell of human, Wolf."
The Wolf nodded, "I have one. A girl one called Rapunzel and was the witch's treasure and prisoner all her life."
The Stag accepted this, as humans would do this type of thing, but cocked his head, "Surely you didn't kill the poor thing recently?" Stags, by their nature, were the protectors of the weak and innocent, a girl-prisoner to be killed out of misdirected spite would surely have an angry sharp horn pointed at anyone.
The Wolf snorted impatiently, "Of course not; I'm showing her how to survive. Cooking, sewing and the like. She's helpless."
The Stag grunted his approval, "But she is human so she won't be helpless much longer. When do you think it would be alright for her to be released safely on her own?"
The Wolf watched the Stag, "Would it be so queer if she stayed in the woods?"
The Stag shook his head, "But usually, humans don't take well to wolves."
The Wolf's lip curled, "And they eat deer."
The Stag glared at the Wolf for a moment but agreed humbly, "Only the young women come out to talk to Stags, maybe to gain a good eye from a god." He looked melancholic, "Man has prevented such a thing for some time though. The young women no longer frolic in the fields, or talk to us or feed us or beg us for a blessing. I haven't granted a girl a boon in ages." The Stag sighed and pawed at the snow beneath him. "'Tis a sad sight and a sadder existence to not be cherished. So I cannot blame you for wanting to keep her close."
The Wolf's curiosity was peaked, "What happened to the young women?" as a Wolf, he'd never been approached as the Stags and the wild Stallions had – he was, after all, a carnivore first and foremost.
"Man," the Stag looked astounded that the Wolf didn't realize this. "They look upon us and them, and what happiness we have to ourselves and the women are always fond of petting us and feeding us and telling us their secrets. We are what they love in a pure, unselfish form and Man hates it. Woman, instead of allowed being allowed a small happiness in between caring for children, housework and caring for the husband, are put to work in the fields. They have forgotten how to find us, how to call for us, how to love us. They've become bitter and unhappy, and ugly in their misery."
The Wolf frowned, "Maybe it is best she remain here." He muttered quietly, looking at the forlorn expression of the Stag across him. He shook his head and got back to the topic at hand; save bitter nagging of the failure Man for another time. "Friend Stag, the witch, I'm looking for her and I mean to kill her. As guardian of this forest, do you grant me this?"
The Stag watched him carefully, "I do, but no more bloodshed from the innocent." A stern, somber look replaced the Stag's earlier look and it caused the Wolf's hackles to rise defensively.
He wondered if he'd caught scent of the woodcutter's blood from a week ago. The Wolf lowered his shaggy head and bounded off in the direction of the witch, planning to rip her head from her shoulders to end her tyranny and the threat that she may forcefully take Rapunzel back.
In the twilight of the forest, across from where the Wolf was running off to, going in the direction the Wolf had originated, was a weary golden haired soldier.