They heard little from the civilized world after that cryptic note Priam had intercepted, but he could tell it wore heavy on her mind when he was not there to occupy her. Sometimes at night, when she was preparing for the transformation, a glassy look came over her eyes and she would stare in the direction of the town as if entranced. He considered intervening but knew that when she was the wolf she would no longer care for the walls and cobbled roads of town. It nagged at the corners of his mind as well, because he knew and secretly feared that the human part of her that still remembered civility and nobility would someday return to her former home, to be killed or lost to him forever. Much as he loathed to admit it, he was beginning to realize that he despised isolation, and could not handle being abandoned again.
As the moonlight grew slimmer, its dark face expanding in the sky each night, so too did the dread of impending solitude darken his mind. The black moon could only bring a night where she would not change at all. With a full day and night to fill her human mind with coherent thoughts, she might decide to leave and act upon it. First, a long time ago in the story of a boy with a heroic father, the duo had been thoroughly shaken by the tragedy of his mother's sudden disappearance, and then later when the boy's fairy tale had ended and his woodsman life was budding, he faced the loss of his father as well, and henceforth lived alone. Perhaps all those years he had considered the woods his refuge he had truly been insane. The darkness of this thought and the tragedy of his loneliness spread through his mind rapidly, infectiously, tainting even his most joyful thoughts with dismay and somber emptiness. It was a fever that raged from his brain to his heart, until he was so full of fear he could barely distinguish himself from a scrawny rabbit that flees at the slightest hint of change. For long hours of the day he left for the woods, attempting to seek solace in felling trees and snaring deer, followed loyally by his new wolves, though he had little use for them and merely offered them scraps of his catch. If and when she left, he would still have them, of course. The forest was his kingdom and humans were hers; he had to accept that in spite of this peculiar attachment he had formed and she named "love".
Obscurity ascended at last in place of the moon. He knew he had to at least see her off when she made her decision, so he waited in silence as the windows turned to murky voids and the small fire at the heart of the cabin flickered feebly to light their thighs and stomachs as they knelt beside it. He saw the itch in her skin, detected the sharp but soft exclamations of pain she attempted to hide, and waited for the discomfort to pass. The flames lit her eyes in eccentric but lovely ways, highlighting their azures and ceruleans and definitely magnifying the curious shield in the one. He pondered on it with no words to his thoughts until her raspy voice overcame the silence.
"I can never go back," she breathed through an agonizing throat, her voice that of the human he despised. "Not as the princess. Not as what they want."
"Not as what they want," he agreed softly, more to soothe her than to continue the conversation.
"The only way..." She squeezed her eyes shut and doubled over, and he saw her fingers furrowed deep within her own skin, almost ready to tear apart her own arms. "I... never want... to see them..."
Concern flooded him torrentially, and he crept closer on hands and knees to investigate what methods of his could possibly aid her. He was wrong to think that tonight her mind would be at its most acute. "You do not have to think of this now. Think of something else."
"Like what?" she gasped, one hand lashing out to tear into his arm. He took the pain as a reward for his actions and watched for a heartbeat longer, feeling the yawning darkness in his mind fill up with the light of the moon that always summoned his wolf. All he had to do was translate the light he saw in his mind to words that would save her this torment.
"Remember how I said I had no legends about the trees? That I knew they were spirits but nothing more?"
She nodded, but all he could see was the ripple of her hair like the tossing of the rapids.
"I lied. I know one legend." He paused, exploring all he had learned from her to concoct the story of which he feigned knowledge. "The pine and the cherry trees. The pine liked to grow in disorder, all over the place in chaotic forests of unrivaled size. But the cherry preferred rows and structure. The spirits would leave the trees at night and argue, because the cherry orchards produced useful fruit and all the pine woods did was inconvenience others. So by day the trees attempted to grow into the opposing territory, and by night they met with swords made from boulders and branches. It was a terrible war. But, there was one cherry spirit whose tree was the largest and always bore the most fruit, and she hated seeing the war. She snuck off one night and met with a wandering pine spirit, garbed for war in his wooden armor, and they talked. She convinced him to remove his armor and he did, and though the war continued that night and every night after, those two continued to meet and talk and be at peace."
Tentatively, she straightened back into a sitting position, still pained but not in absolute agony. There was a slim but sincere and pleased smile on her face, which warmed his heart and drove away the feverish worry in his heart. "I like that. Who taught it to you?"
"The cherry tree," he replied without a thought.
"When did you meet?" After a moment of slightly labored breathing, she regarded him with a new and hopeful excitement in her eyes. "Could you... take me? Would she tell me legends?"
While he followed maps and trails in his mind to try and find one instance of a wild cherry tree he had seen, for of course there had to have been one to inspire the story, a strange shimmer appeared in the windows, and then there was the sharp report of a wolf's howl cut short. All thoughts of his myth were lost, and they both turned wary eyes to the glass. Fierce possession consumed him suddenly as he recognized the glow. These were his woods, and this was his territory, and the girl was under his protection.
He stood and approached the window, first experiencing a twinge of anguish as he realized someone had shot an arrow in the flank of one of his wolves while the other stood protectively beside it and in front of his door, and then rage eclipsed all sense of mercy he had ever felt. The unwanted light came from torches, and steadily filling air were the footsteps and fearful murmurs of humans.