The Wolf leaned against the wooden door, tears trickling from his eyes as he moaned, "Give me my Peter… Please…"

The guards had locked him into the room, were taunting him by making the young wolf whimper and cry for 'Papa'. One jeered, "Want him? Why don't you come out and get him?"

"Please… He never did anything to you…" The Wolf whined, pushing against the door, hearing the guards burst into laughter on the other side.

Suddenly, the door wrenched open, and Peter was shoved into the Wolf's arms by an indignant captain. While the others complained, he turned, snarled, "The King will kill us if he finds out about this! Now get!" He kicked at his underlings, who scurried away to a safe distance before turning, mocking.

The captain glanced at the Wolf, who was frantically trying to comfort the sobbing Peter. With a sigh, he stepped in, closed the door behind him, and grumbled, "Well… I wouldn't blame you if you did tell the King…"

The Wolf allowed himself to glare up at him, baring his teeth in a snarl, "You were torturing my son!"

"I wasn't!" protested the captain before pursing his lips as the noise of hoarse, hateful laughter echoed from the hall. Grimacing, he jerked a thumb at the door, "It's the stupids who did that."

"Humph!" With a growl, the Wolf turned, stormed over to the dusty bed that lay in the room, and sat down. As he began to rock Peter in his arms, he glowered back over at the guard and hissed, "What do you want?"

"…I have to feed you… Would you like anything in particular? The King wants you to have the best care." The captain fidgeted nervously, obviously thinking about how angry the King would be if his original wasn't properly taken care of.

The Wolf paused before cradling Peter to his chest and cooing softly, "Peter… are you hungry?"

Without a word, Peter nodded. His little fingers curled up into his father's fur as he shivered in fright.

The Wolf glanced back at the captain, "…What's there to eat?"

Sighing with relief, the captain stepped forward, "Well, there's probably some venison, some pork, though the cooks… If you want fruit, you can have as much of that as you want, 'cause nobody here really eats it…" He let a disgusted grimace creep onto his lips before forcing a sharp smile, "You want fruit? I might be a bit… Well, let's just say that some of the cooks guard their food jealously. You'd be better off with-"

"Fruit's fine." Grunted the Wolf, stroking Peter's ears gently.

The captain nodded, saluted deftly, and, turning, scrambled from the room. The Wolf's ears twitched when he heard the tell-tale click of a bolt locking them into the room.

"Papa?"

Startled by the sudden words, the Wolf glanced down, grinned, and then licked Peter's dry nose, "Yes, Peter?"

Peter felt for his neck, found it, linked his frail arms around it, and whimpered, "I missed you."

"Me too." The Wolf nuzzled him gently.

For a few moments, Peter was silent, drowning the tip of his snout in his papa's fur. Finally, he whispered, "I want to go home…"

The words pierced the Wolf's heart, making him feel so horridly guilty. If he had never given that stupid necklace to Red, he would have never been beaten down by Hansel and sent to that horrid prison. The memory eater would have never even been made, and he and his son would be safe in their home, not stuck in some backwards mirror world where everybody wanted to eat everybody else.

With a small gulp, the Wolf muttered hoarsely, "We'll try…"

Peter curled up against him, tail wagging slowly against the Wolf's side, "And we can have cake…? All three of us?"

"Three?"

"Me, you, and Marie… We can have a cake, right?"

The Wolf couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously deep in his gut. His little son had just returned from those nasty spiders' clutches and all he could think was Red?

Without thinking, he snarled, "What's so important about Marie?"

Instantly, Peter was curled up, shivering, whimpering, "Don't be mad, Papa… Please… Don't be mad..." His tail curled up to touch the center of his stomach as he flinched.

The Wolf felt a pang of regret rising in his throat. Softly, he cradled his son, almost as if Peter was a newborn, and whispered, "I'm not mad, Peter… I'm sorry… I just wanted to know why you like Red so much…" He bent, nuzzled his son's forehead.

Peter's blind eyes grew wide as he felt his father's breath on his ears. Looking up, he reached forward, found his father's muzzle, and traced it with a finger before happily saying, "Marie's like mommy. I want her to stay till mommy comes back. Then I can have a real mommy and a fake mommy!" He shivered in delight before clapping his hands together. "And Marie can be the one that cooks and mommy can be the one who reads me stories!"

The Wolf's throat grew sore with sadness. Choking back a small sob, he rasped, "That'll… that'll be nice."

"Papa… Are you sad?" Peter's ears perked, and he clutched at his father's fur before attacking his arm with a ferocious hug. "Be happy! Don't be sad! Mommy said that being sad never made anything get better!"

The Wolf glowered at him, somewhat thankful that Peter couldn't see his angry glare. Gently, he reached down, tickled Peter's nose, and forced a painful note of happiness into his voice, "I guess you're right, Peter."

Delighted by the words, Peter puffed up with pride, his tail whipping furiously against the Wolf's side, "I know I am!"

"Now, now, don't be boastful."

"Huh?" Peter paused, a bit confused, and then struggled to sit up, "Papa! Let go!"

"Why? So you can fall off my lap and onto the floor?" joked the Wolf, clutching him happily.

"I want to walk… Can I have my crutches?"

"Oh…" The Wolf's face fell, "I… don't have them, Peter. I'm sorry."

Peter blinked before grabbing his father's hand and asking, "Will you help me walk then? Hold me up? Make sure I don't fall over?"

The Wolf laughed, relieved that Peter had not been angry at him for 'not bringing' the crutches, "Of course, but where did you get such energy? For the last three weeks, you've been in bed, sleeping, because of your broken-" He froze before glancing down at Peter's leg, realizing his broken leg no longer had its cast. Biting his lip, he asked, "… Your broken leg… Is it better?"

Peter nodded vigorously, "The man took off the scratchy thing."

"The… man?"

"He felt like you, but he had a different smell. And he fed me some bread and cheese!" Peter brightened before suddenly growing downcast, "And then a bad man tried to hurt me and the good man saved me. See?" He flopped over on his father's lap, twisted an arm to point at his back, "He hurt me."

A long scratch, rather shallow and unserious, lay across his back. The Wolf smiled at it, relieved that Peter hadn't been hurt more, and then cooed, "Ooh… You have your first battle scar, Peter."

"Battle scar?" Peter's eyes perked. "That's not a battle scar! I can't fight!" Crossing his arms, he pouted, "I can't even walk."

The Wolf laughed, grabbed his son's arms, and lifted him up off the lap. Lowering him gently so his hind feet touched the floor, he whispered, "Well, you just need some help walking. There's nothing wrong with a little help sometimes."

Peter's legs trembled, close to the point of buckling, before Peter took a tentative, staggering step forward. Squeaking, he clutched at his father's arm, steadying himself. His wide eyes stared down at the disgusting, dust-covered carpet as he tried to envision his feet before he asked suddenly, "Where are we?"

The Wolf bit his lip before catching Peter, sitting him back down on his lap, "Well… Not somewhere pleasant."

"Why not?"

"Some stuff happened…" The Wolf said uncomfortably.

Peter sat still for a moment, silent and thoughtful, and then giggled, "But it'll be okay, right? You always make it okay!" He latched his arms around the Wolf's stomach, nuzzled his father's chest happily. "Because you're papa!"

The Wolf chuckled, a glint of hidden sadness in his eyes, "Well… Yes…" He bent down, kissed Peter's flicking ears. "We'll be back home soon."

"With Marie?" asked Peter eagerly.

"…With Marie." The Wolf nodded somberly.


Red was having a miserable time. The guard who was charged with her had nearly drowned her in a pool of cold water in an attempt to 'wash' her and then had scrubbed her with spices, making her smell like a spice bouquet in the most suffocating way.

Now, as he marched her back towards the throne room, Red could just feel her heart pulse in quiet fury and fear. Why did everything want to eat her? Why couldn't she be something like the Wolf? He never had to deal with the problem of being on the bottom rung of the food chain, did he?

The guard shoved her forward, "Faster."

Red glowered at him before stepping up the pace. The guard nodded, satisfied, before blinking as a harsh call came from behind them. "Stoffers! 'Ey! Wait up!"

The guard turned, glared at the other guard who came trotting up, panting. "What?" he snarled, tense and suspicious.

"You going in ta see the King?"

"Yes."

"Ya could give this ta him, please?" The new guard held out a rolled up piece of parchment, but, before Red's captor could take it, he noticed the girl, blinked, and then licked his lips, "What's this? A snack? Going ta share with the regiment, right?" The tips of his eight legs poked out from behind him.

Red shivered. Another spider guard?

"She's for the King!" Her captor hissed, shoving the new guard away.

"Ah, just for him? He's sick, ain't he? Bet you anything he'll leave half of her lying around and barf what he did eat up!" The new guard leaned to the side, peering past the guard at Red.

"No!" the guard hissed, baring sharp teeth. "He gets her and no one else!"

Righting himself, the hungry guard whimpered, "Not just a bite and a lick? Ain't nothing much!"

"No!"

"C'mon! You can have one too!"

"I said 'no', stupid!"

The hungry guard glared at his comrade before sniffing, "And why is it only you who gets to guard her…?"

"'Cause the King trusts me not to steal bites from his meals, like you guys do!"

"Ah… It's not like he'll miss a lick of blood!"

"But he'll see the bite, and he'll be angry at me!"

"Then somewhere that he can't see, you know? Bottom of her foot, maybe?"

The guard charged to keeping the girl snarled, "Can you not get this into your dumb head? I said 'no', so no!"

"Fine, fine…" grumbled the hungry guard, "And we won't be paid in rations till night, and that's still a good four hours away… And the King gets his meals delivered and scrubbed with spices… Bloody unfair… Now… Hey! Where's the girl?" He shoved past his comrade, eyes furious.

Red had taken the time for the guards to argue to flee, tiptoeing down the hall, turning the corner, and then scrambling madly down the new corridor. She was just turning the second corner when she heard the enraged howl behind her.

She had to hide or be caught, dragged to the King, and eaten.

Turning the corner, she scurried to the first door, let herself in, and then sat down against the door as it closed, trying to quiet her breathing. Within moments, she heard the guards' boots pound past, angry growls wrenching from their throats as they tried to find where she had run to.

"This is your fault!"

Red relaxed as the footsteps hurried away before glancing around her, taking in her surroundings for the first time. A fire crackled in its fireplace, a large pot placed in the midst of the embers to boil whatever was inside. There were several counters, all covered with scraps of food. That was when she first registered the smell, and she choked, trying to cover her nose. It smelled of rot and onions!

Someone began to whistle, and she stiffened, flattened against the wall as a short, stubby man waltzed into view, carrying a large clay bowl. Bending over the fire, oblivious to the girl who watched him, he took a wooden ladle, dipped it into the pot's contents, and drew out a spoonful of orange soup. He sipped it, thought, and nodded before ladling some soup into the bowl, turning, and setting it down upon the counter. He turned away from Red. Grabbing a bag of salt, he took a pinch, sprinkled it over the soup, and then paused before glancing around.

Red pressed up against the counter that blocked his view of her.

The man sniffed, not seeing her, and returned to his soup. Stirring it, he grinned, put the spoon down, took another furtive glance around. The man's smock rustled before a long, barbed tail curled up and out. Grabbing the end of his tail, he stroked the end before placing it over the soup and kneading the bulbous tip. A large round drop of yellow liquid dripped out to splash into the soup.

Red stared, startled. The man was poisoning the soup? Involuntarily, a small gasp broke from her lips.

The scorpion twitched, ejecting a spurt of poison as he jerked in surprise. Snarling, he whirled, tail instantly arching up into a threatening position. He caught sight of Red, snarled, and started for her, "Who're you? What are you doing here?"

Red stood, fled through the door, only to be seen by the angry guards. Snarling, they raced for her. She squeaked, turned, and ran.

Behind, she heard a yowl as the scorpion rushed from the kitchen, only to be bowled over by the guards. Instantly, the sounds of furious struggling came.

"Get off of me!"

"Ow! No stinging, you big bugger!"

"The girl! The girl! Get the bloody girl!"

Red scrambled around the corner, squawked as she slammed into a captain coming to investigate the unusual noise that broke the usual 'peace' of their corridors. Before she could recover, the man grabbed her, wrapped her in his arms, and snarled, "Ah ha! The little brat!" As she yelled and struggled, he stalked back into the hall, where the scorpion and the two guards were untangling themselves.

The guard charged with Red moaned with relief when he saw Red in the other guard's arms, "Oh… Thank you, Wick… She got away."

"I see!" the captain snarled. "And all this commotion? And you!" He spat at the scorpion, who bared sharp teeth back up at him, "What are you doing out here? It's time for the King's dinner! Get on with it!"

A sudden look of frantic worry came over the scorpion's face as he remembered the soup. Paling, he stammered, "It's… it's not-"

"He's hungry, Denver, and he's in a temper! Get! He'll eat pretty much anything right now!"

The guard who was to take care of her blushed, "But-"

"But? But?" hissed the captain, growing red with fury. "I said the King is hungry, so why don't you and your precious little protégé," He threw Red at his subordinate, causing the guard to squeak, scramble to catch her and keep himself upright, "make sure the bloody cook gets that disgusting soup of his to the King! We want him to get better now, don't we?" He grinned maliciously, daring the two trembling guards and the one pale cook to argue. Red had a feeling that the man would have gone on a rampage if one of the three had said something.

The guard holding Red nodded fearfully, and the captain turned, stormed down the hall.


Immediately after the confrontation with the captain, the hungry guard who had sparked the whole chase scurried away, leaving the original guard, Red, and the scorpion cook, who was protesting as the guard forced him towards the throne room, dragging Red alongside.

"The soup is not ready!" the cook whined, the bowl of soup in his trembling hands, as they approached the door to the throne room.

Grumpily, the guard pushed him forward, "The King won't mind. He already hates it."

"But-"

"Shut up! This girl was going to be his dinner and look at her, not even complaining!" The guard hissed at him, silencing him, and dragged Red forward with him as he reached for the door's handle.

The door slammed open, catching the guard's hand and causing him to yelp loudly. Bristling in the doorway, the King jerked in surprise when he saw the three people just outside the room. Instantly, he took a step back before snarling at the guard, "I told you not to show her to Denver!"

The cook said weakly, "Captain Wick told me to-"

"Uh!" The King had caught sight of the soup. Backing away, he growled, "Take that away! I hate that horrid concoction!"

The cook looked about ready to comply, but a look of hesitation came across his face. Biting his lip, he whispered hoarsely, "But… Your Majesty… You are in need of getting better." He held out the soup with trembling hands, but there was a malicious, hungry sparkle in his eye.

The King glowered at him before turning, snorting, "Fine! I'll eat that disgusting soup of yours, but, if I don't feel better by tomorrow, I'm still eating her!" He pointed furiously at Red before reaching out, grabbing her, and hugging her to his chest, burying his nose into her hair. He moaned softly, "And she smells so delicious… Ah… Rosemary and mothswood…" His muscles relaxed slowly before he released her, began hacking loudly, covering his coughs with a hand.

Red could have sworn she saw the cook smile.

Stepping forward, the guard gently took one of the King's arm, led him to his throne, and sat him down. Glumly, the King nodded his thanks before waving a hand, "The soup and the girl, please."The cook stepped forward, hissing at Red to move forward too. Gulping, Red sullenly followed him, knowing that they would kill her if she tried to run again.

"Come here, girl." Cooed the King, tapping his lap. "You can share my soup with me, lessen the pain. I've lost most of my appetite with just the smell."

Red hesitated. Sit on his lap? If it had been the Wolf asking, she might have even considered it, but not if the one asking was a spider dressed in wolf's skin. And eat the soup? She had seen the scorpion poison it! She wasn't going to eat it!

"Girl…" The King twitched, eyes narrowing, "I said 'come here'."

Red sullenly went closer, let him pull her onto his lap. Stroking her hair, the King ushered the cook over, who set the bowl onto the broad arm of the throne, dug a spoon out of his pocket, and bowed back.

The King grabbed the spoon, regarded it with a small smirk, and then dipped it into the orange mess. Pulling it, he surveyed the contents of the spoon before asking, "Is this carrot?" A drip of disgust twisted his voice.

"Yes, sir." The cook said meekly, with just a touch of eagerness in his voice.

"Fie! I told you never to feed me this! I'm fine with the onion stuff, but not the bloody carrots!" The King turned the spoon over. As he watched the carrot soup spill out, he groaned, shook off the remainder from the spoon, and then scooped up some more, "Well… Girl, hungry for some carrots?" He carefully put the spoon to her lips, a quizzical look on his face.

Red refused to open her mouth.

"Come on now… Will you please eat? Otherwise, you'll be just a bit thinner tomorrow and I want as much as I can get… Please eat."

Red flinched as he brushed his nose through her hair, his breath warming her scalp. Shivering, she leaned away from the spoon, "Uh… No, thank you… I'm not hungry…"

The King moaned, "Please…?"

"No."

Turning from pleading to threatening, the King hissed, "If you don't, I'll force it down your throat."

Red crossed her arms, glowered up at him, finally snarled, "I don't want to eat poison."

The cook jerked, eyes growing wide, tensing. A pale sheet of terror crossed his face. He hadn't expected her to say anything.

The King seemed equally shocked, stiffening with a stupefied expression on his face before suddenly relaxing. Casting the spoon away, he twisted under her so he could look into her face easily, "Well… You like telling stories. I'm in the mood. Tell me about this poison."

The cook started to back away, but the King waved a hand and the guard had him instantly pinioned.

Red pursed her lips before muttering, "I… ran away from the guard… and I was hiding in the kitchen… And I saw him put poison in the soup."

The King smiled as he snuggled down into a more comfortable position, "Now, now… We can't have stories ruining lives… Where did he get the poison?"

"His tail. He's a scorpion. And the poison was yellow. And then he saw me and was chasing me."

"Mm… Details, details, details…" The King tapped his chin before sitting up, pushing Red from his lap, standing, grabbing the soup, and walking over to the restrained cook. As the man stared up at him with bugging, scared eyes, the King leaned forward, whispered, "Is this true, Denver? This little story? Or is it just a story of a child who doesn't want carrot soup for supper?"

The cook shook his head furiously, "No! I would never do that, sire!"

"Well… I can't feed it to you to find out," The King regarded the cook with a bright, calculating eye, "'cause you're resistant to your own poison… Aha! I have it!"

Putting a finger up, he beamed at the cook, who smiled weakly and asked, "What, sire? An idea?"

"Yes! A positively brilliant idea!" The King grinned before raising the soup bowl, pouring the warm carrot soup over the scorpion's head, and ordered coldly, "Guard, take this thing to your ration group and eat him. You get double rations if you do."

The cook shrieked as the guard giggled gleefully, "Yes, sir!" Without waiting, he turned, dragged his prisoner to the door, and let himself out, his eight arms easily keeping the scorpion under control.

The King gazed smugly after them before scratching his belly, glancing lazily over at Red, who was staring in horror, "Now, now… Now we have to talk about you…" His gait rather lively and happy, he waltzed to his throne, sat down, and motioned to her.

Red glanced at the door, hesitating, and then squeaked when one of the long spider legs reached out from behind the King's back, wrapped around her wrist.

"I said 'we have to talk'. Come here, little one. No looking at the door." He dragged her over, flipped a stray strand of hair from her face, and peered into her eyes before licking his lips, coughing hoarsely, "You look wonderful."

She knew he was just commenting on how delicious she looked to him. Grimacing, she pushed away one of the spider legs, grumbled, "That's great. Now let me go. You can't eat me."

The fur around his collar raised in surprise, "Mm? I cannot? I wasn't planning to yet… Perhaps next week, but I think you deserve a little extra time, since you did just stop me from eating poison." He smiled pointedly, leaned forward, and gazed into her eyes curiously. "And don't you like that much better than me killing and eating you right now?"

Red stared at him before nodding slowly.

"Good!" He stood, clapped his hands, and then seized her.

Red squeaked, struggled, "Hey!"

Laughing gaily, he reached upwards with his long spider legs, caught the edge of an overhead spider web, and pulled himself up easily. The tips of all eight legs placed on the thick string of the spider web, he hurriedly quickly along the length before stopping at the wall, digging his forelegs into the tips, and then starting to ascend.

Red shrieked, clutched at him. They were a good twenty feet up from the floor now! "Why are we up here?"

The King chuckled, jumped from the wall to another nearby spider web, scurried along its length, gaining another twenty or so feet, and, then catching a ledge with his legs, swinging himself and Red up into the dark opening of a hole. He set her down, whispered, "Wait here. I'll be right back." Turning, he leapt back down onto the spider web, used it to pick his way to another, and used them as sort as a web ladder to find his way to the very top of the chamber, where he disappeared into a small tunnel.

Red stared, glanced down, shivered at the sight of the floor such a long ways below, and then thought about lowering herself onto the spider webs; if it could hold the King, it could definitely hold her right?

She heard scrambling on the rock above her, glanced up to see the King crawling upside down towards her. Noticing her stare, he paused, chuckled, "Just had to put away my pets. Nothing much."

"Pets…?"

"I'll show them to you, if you want…" He reached down, hauled her up, and then turned back around to start back up the wall. Within a minute, he had reached the small tunnel. Setting her down on the slight ledge before it, he pushed her forward gently, "It's soft, not sticky… Don't worry… Go on…"

Red stared at the tunnel before her. It was rather small, only four feet tall or so, and spider silk was plastered everywhere in thick layers, creating a carpet and padding on the wall of some sorts.

Biting her lip, she bent, stepped in, and then dropped to her knees so she could crawl. She heard a small sigh of pleasure from the King as he entered behind her, his eight legs scrunching up under his cloak for easier passage.

Red hurried, went around a sharp corner, and tumbled into a small room as her hand missed the ledge. Instantly, the King stood over her, beaming, "You'd never make a good spider, you know… So, how do you like it?"

The room was absolutely covered in spider webs. However, instead of the random, silky patterns that blew into faces and caught on clothing, this silk had been carefully layered onto the walls and floor, creating a soft surface on everything.

The King grinned wildly before running to a little hole in the wall, squeezing through, and wheezing, "Thirsty?"

Red picked at the floor besides her before muttering, "Yes."

Seconds later, the King scrambled back through the small hole, holding a dusty bottle of champagne. Coming over to her, he twisted the cork out deftly, watched the liquor foam, and then offered the whole bottle to her.

Red snorted, crossed her arms, "I can't drink alcohol! I'm not old enough!"

"Mm?" The King eyed her curiously before putting the bottle to his lips, downing half of the bottle, and then throwing it behind him without a care. It bounced off the wall, spilling its contents everywhere.

Sitting, the King grinned widely, "You never answered my question."

"Huh?"

"How do you like it?"

"…It's… soft." Admitted Red, patting the floor. The threads of the web felt like silk.

The King smiled happily, eyes slitting, "I weaved it all myself… Of course it's soft…" He turned, used his legs to push him back in, went over to a small basket in the corner, and lifted the lid. "And my little pets help me sometimes…" He put a hand in, withdrew a furry tarantula.

Red bit her lip, scooted backwards. Spiders! The small kind! She hated spiders! The King wasn't so bad because he was partially in disguise; the only thing that showed what he was were the eight legs that seemed so helpful.

The King obviously had the opposite feeling. Kissing his little pet on a leg, he turned, set it onto the ground, and then crouched to watch it with happy eyes before noticing Red's tenseness and asking, "You don't like him?"

"…I don't like… little spiders…" Red would have just said 'spiders', but the King might have taken it the wrong way.

"Not big ones?" The King's ears perked, his eyes narrowing.

"No, not big ones."

"… I can deal with that." The King picked up his pet, put it back into the basket, and murmured, "Yes, yes, dears… The rest of you can come out later… Just not right now…" He set the lid atop the basket before turning, smiling, "So… Are you hungry? Thirsty? Bored? I haven't had anybody up here for the longest time, and I feel that it's suddenly my duty to be a proper host." He bowed mockingly.

Red glowered at him witheringly, "I want to see the Wolf and Peter."

The King nodded, "It can be done. So you're not hungry? You're not going to eat at all?" His face fell as he asked this.

"Not if you just want me to eat because I can get fatter or whatever you want to happen to me." Snarled Red, crossing her arms.

The King suddenly turned wrathful. Face contorting into a vicious scowl, eyes narrowed, he hissed, "I want there to be something to eat, at least! You're the scrawniest, little thing I've seen! How much do you weigh? Fifty pounds? A hundred? Nothing!" He came closer, bristling, eyes sparkling with hungry anger, "I want a good meal, not a snack! I've been sick, living off bloody soup, and how much of it was poisoned? Probably all of it! I haven't eaten a good meal in three months! Nothing! Not even a rabbit! Do you know what hunger does? It hurts! Have you ever hungered, you in your precious, little world, where food comes in bags and is delivered right to you?" He broke off to cough before saying weakly, "And all the while… we are in here, starving. There're no bags of food, like there used to be. There's hunting or starving, killing or being killed. Good champagne is a treat, not that disgusting brew I offered. Sugar? Hasn't been farmed for years now… Good bread? It's all unleavened and hard and flat now, 'cause we got no bloody yeast!" He stayed quiet for a moment, catching a breath, and then latched a furious eye on a stupefied Red, "And you… You're one of those people who cook a whole meal and eat only a few bites before throwing the rest away. I know you are. At least my original enjoys his meals and doesn't waste. And his son? Barely eats anything, because he has a bloody reason! He's sick, you're not, and he eats more than you still!" He bared his teeth, snarled at her in a feral manner. The fang-tipped mandibles poked out, clicking angrily, and his legs brushed out from beneath his purple cloak, twitching in rage.

Red stared at him, shivering, "…Is it really… Is it really that bad here?"

Suddenly, the King was sitting on the floor, sullen and miserable. His legs curling around him, making a small cage, he whispered, "My guards follow because I can deliver rations, my people eat each other, and rebellion is a common word… I think it's bad. I just need to survive, try to pick things back together… Laws must be made, rules enforced, the riff-raff dealt with accordingly. Rations have to be made so I can start giving them out to the common folk, hopefully stopping the 'killing and eating each other'… I just want to make my world better…" He picked at the floor, his claws tearing up little strands of webbing, "But nobody wants me to do it. They think I'm a miserable tyrant who pokes into the natural order of things. Yes, I know that predators are supposed to hunt, and prey supposed to run, but couldn't we keep that to a minimum? Predators could go a week without meat, couldn't they?"

Red saw a weakness, stated, "Then you shouldn't eat me."

Anger flaring once more, the King hissed, "I haven't eaten meat in three months! I think that gives me right to three months with meat!"

Red cringed, "And that sort of defeats your purpose, doesn't it?"

The King snarled at her, scrambled up, and, hurrying to the small hole in the wall, squeezed through. His fur disguise was all ruffled, the hair prickling as they rose in angry indignation, and his breath came with difficulty, his lungs frozen with rage. What a naïve girl! She couldn't see past her nose! Of course it defeated the purpose! It's what stung him most about his plan! Always faults, never perfect! Always, always, always!

Red waited for a few moments, hearing the enraged hisses and snarls from through the hole, before standing, creeping over, and peering in. It was like the room she stood in, covered with silk webs, but this room was more cramped, only nine feet by four feet. The King lay on the torn cloth, balled-up webbing, and small pillows that littered the floor, half of him hidden under the soft debris.

Glaring at her, he snapped, "Go away! Leave me to my peace!"

Curious, Red poked her head in, glanced to the sides to see small golden trinkets and necklaces hanging from the walls, "Is this where you sleep?"

"Yes, it's my room! Now go away!" The King turned away, buried himself in the cloth, and then settled, completely covered. The only thing that showed was two of the spider legs, which were poised to strike should Red venture closer.

Red bit her lip, drew back just for comfort's sake, and asked quietly, "…But what about visiting the Wolf and Peter?"

Slowly, the King's two spider legs lowered, relaxing. The cloth rags shifting, his poked his head up, eyes suspicious, "Why do you want to talk to them? Plotting? Planning an escape?"

"No! I just want to see how Peter is doing!"

"He's doing fine, so shut up, find something to do, and stop bothering me, or I might forget that I promised I wouldn't eat you till next week."

Red glowered at him, "And what would I do up here?"

"Ah, I don't know." Grunted the King sarcastically, "Why don't you go throw yourself out of my home and kill yourself in the process? Save me the trouble." He ducked back under the cloth once more.

Huffing, Red turned, stormed to the corner, and sat down to fume.


The captain had brought some fruit and flat, hard bread for the Wolf and Peter. The Wolf was disgusted when he saw the purple spots on the apples and the felt the mushiness of the oranges, but thanked the hesitant, rather nice captain, waited till the man left, and then turned to feed Peter.

Peter, tail thumping against the covers, sat chewing a half of an apple, ears perked with delight, "Thank you, papa!"

The Wolf was using his claws to carve off the rotting parts of the oranges and apples. Glancing over, he smiled softly, cooed lovingly, "You're welcome, Peter. I'm just happy that you're not asking for cake or anything." He turned his head down to glance at the mushy part of the apples and oranges in his hands and sighed. He had kept all the disgusting parts for himself, given all the good parts to Peter.

Peter paused, blinking, and then dropped the apple piece to reach forward, find his father's hand, and found the rotten parts of the fruit. "What are you eating?"

"Fruit, just like you."

"… But they're mushy!" Peter grimaced, drew back, felt for the apple half he had dropped, found it, and then held it up, "You want mine? This one's good."

"No, you can have it." The Wolf smiled, patted Peter on the head.

"But why?" whined Peter. "You have to eat too!"

"Well, I had something to eat last night. When was the last time you ate?"

Peter's ears fell, "Last afternoon, I think…"

"See? You're probably hungrier than I am, so you get the good parts."

"But…" Peter sniffled, "What about I get half good, half bad, and you get half good, half bad too? Then it is fair…"

"No, Peter, it's okay. They're not that bad." The Wolf picked up a droopy orange half, sniffed at it, balked, and then dropped it over the side of the bed, deciding not to eat that piece.

"Then you can have the bread." Said Peter, feeling around for the bread and holding it up when he found it.

"I'm not that hungry. Go ahead and have it, Peter. You need to eat, you know," The Wolf smiled, bent, and whispered, "so you get some muscle on those bones and be strong like papa!"

Peter giggled, felt for his father, and then latched onto him, hugging him happily, "I'm strong! See?" He squeeze at his father's stomach.

The Wolf barely felt it, but grinned, "Ooh… You're very strong, Peter!" He nipped at Peter's ears, laughed when the little wolf squeaked, rolled back.

"I am! I am!" Peter cheered before using his arms to prop himself up, tail wagging wildly behind him, "And I'm going to get better so I can walk! Then I'd be able to walk without crutches!" Plumed tail in the air, frail legs quivering as he tried to straighten them so he could stand up on the bed, he grew quiet, biting his lip.

The Wolf immediately dropped the rotten parts of the fruits, took Peter's thin arms in his hands, and gently helped him stand upright. Quivering, Peter moved his legs back and forth, the scanty fur covering them on end, and then whispered, "No… I want to walk by myself… Let go…"

Pursing his lips, the Wolf muttered, "Peter…"

"Papa, please? Maybe I can stand up… Please?" Peter's voice was filled with hope.

Slowly, the Wolf let his hands drift away from his son's arms, and, immediately, Peter crumpled back down onto the bed cover. Surprised, Peter pulled his legs out from underneath him, felt at them, and then began to sniffle, "I don't like my legs, papa…"

Sensing a restrained sob in his son's voice, the Wolf hurriedly caught him up in his arms, cradled him, "Oh, it's okay, Peter… It's okay…"

Tears glittering in his eyes, Peter clutched at the fur, whimpered, "Papa… I want to walk without my crutches… I want to walk…" He curled up, trembled, trying to hide his tears away from the outside world.

The Wolf smiled sadly, pulled Peter up so the little wolf couldn't cover his face, and wiped a tear away with a gentle claw, "Peter… It's okay… You know, you're much better off than some people. There's some people who can't even move their legs. You can. There's some people who can't move their arms. You can. You should be happy!"

"But there's people who can move everything!" Peter cried, the sobs racking his little, thin body. "Like Marie… She can move everything! Why can't I?" He sniffled into his father's fur.

Lost for words, the Wolf just said, "…But I still love you."

Peter stilled before wiping at the tears, nodding, "Thank you, Papa… I love you too…" He sat still for a moment before sitting up, holding up his fingers, and counting off, "And I love Marie, and… and the angels and –oh!- I love Bunny and-"

The Wolf laughed, "Bunny? That little toy? You can't love a toy!"

Reproachfully, Peter grumbled, "But I still love it…"


Irit was angry, fuming as hunger, anger, and impatience tugged at his mind, each demanding equal attention. He had let the snake take the two originals to the King, his cousin, and he could just shudder with envy as he imagined his bigger, stronger cousin devouring the small original. Not that he wanted to eat the original, for that would kill the lady that he was trying to woo, but still… so small, defenseless…

Irit kicked at a stone, itched at his head, and then bit his lip when he saw a rabbit chewing at a mouse ahead. Licking his lips, seeing an opportunity to satisfy one of the things bothering him, he lay down, grew still. Rabbits liked scavenging; they wouldn't hesitate to come closer if they thought a still body a possible meal. Besides, it was almost night, and it was hard to hunt in the dark.

The rabbit finished devouring its mouse, cleaned some blood from its nose, and then prowled along, its little length of yarn trailing behind it. For a few moments, Irit thought it wouldn't see him, but he let an inner sigh of relief sound as the rabbit gave an excited squeak, hurried over, and sniffed at him.

Instantly, Irit twisted around, his tail flaring out from beneath his coat to strike the rabbit in the neck. The rabbit jerked before stilling, eyes glazing over as it died.

Chuckling grimly, Irit stood, stowed his tail, and started off. He'd find his way back home, start a warm fire, and eat before falling asleep. What a wonderful, comfortable plan, not to mention warm. The air was growing cold now. A warm fire would be nice…

A small sound interrupted his thought process. Freezing, he cocked his head, listening for it again, curious.

It came again, and Irit blinked. A sneeze? For a moment, he weighed the options in his mind before deciding such a sound was worth investigating. Turning, he started off into the trees to his right. The snow crunched underfoot, and Irit started to hear the small sneezes clearly.

In his mind, he was already imagining the scene: a small creature, a welcome addition to his meal, standing around, sneezing so loudly in a dangerous place. He would creep up behind it, kill it, take it home, eat it for dessert. Again, a wonderful plan.

Irit jerked as his foot skidded on an icy patch of mud. Scrambling to keep his balance, he leapt back, barely managing to stop himself from falling into the hole that bared its gaping jaws at the sky. Another sneeze came from within, and Irit, forever tempted with the thought of a second course, knelt, leaned forward to peer curiously into the hole.

Instantly, he grinned, "Well, hello there! You're a memory eater, aren't you?"

The memory eater glanced up in surprise. Sitting in knee-high water, soaked to the bone, and cold, he had not been expecting anyone to pop up and grant him a 'hello'. With a whimper, he whined, "Take out?"

Irit drew back, rounded the hole, and found an edge lacking ice. Kneeling again, he gazed in, asked, "Well… I can try… How did you get in there?"

Miserably, the memory eater muttered, "Wake up and see mirror man putting girl memory and original through mirror and I try to stop. And he had no time for concentrate and sent me to middle of forest. I walk, slip, fall."

"Mm… This is… a day and a half ago? You've been in here the whole time?"

The memory eater nodded before calling, "Eat?"

Instantly, Irit's happiness fled. His new-found treasure was asking for his dinner? Slowly, he let his eyes fall the rabbit at his side, sighed, and pushed it in. Memory eaters never came into mirrors… But now he had one trapped in a hole! A rare find! Besides, memory eaters tasted horrible, as far as the rumors went about them.

The memory eater splashed up, caught it, and tore into it ravenously, his tail wagging furiously behind him. Within seconds, all that remained were bits and scraps which had fallen into the water, and the memory eater was eagerly licking the blood from his paws, gazing up at the morose Irit eagerly. "More?"

"No, there's no more." Grumbled Irit, eyeing a particular bloody scrap in the water. "But, once I get you out, we can hunt till nighttime, how about that?"

The memory eater nodded vigorously, licking his lips.

"Have you tried jumping out?"

The trapped animal nodded once more.

"Show me how high you can jump."

Blinking, the memory eater back away before sloshing, bending, and leaping upwards. He only made it halfway up the wall before he struck it, dug his claws in vainly, and slid down with mud plopping down around him.

"Pitiful." Irit stood, turned, and glanced around for a good branch. Seeing one, he started for it.

Panicking as his rescuer disappeared from the lip of the hole, the memory eater shrieked, "No! No! Come back! No! Don't leave!" He pushed against the wall, clawing it frantically as it yelped and sobbed.

Irit was shocked by the loudness of the creature. How had it managed not to be found out this past day and a half? Shuddering, Irit pushed the thought away, grabbed up the branch, and stomped back to the hole.

The instant he appeared, the memory eater sat down, shivering in relief as he licked his torn-up paws. With the frantic clawing, he had ripped open day-old wounds, and black blood now dripped from the fingers into the muddy water.

Rolling his eyes, Irit held the branch down, thankful it reached just a bit past the halfway mark the memory eater could jump to. "Here you go. Jump, hold on, and I'll pull you out." He braced himself.

The memory eater gazed at the branch with inquisitive eyes before standing, leaping for it. His fingers caught the end of a thick branch.

Irit jerked forward, not expecting the weight, but caught himself in time. Arms straining, he struggled backwards, pulling the branch up.

The moment he was close enough to the top of the hole, the memory eater scrambled up and off the branch, joyfully buried his nose in the snow. Irit watched him with mixed feeling; for one thing, he was sorry for the creature, but the thing had eaten his dinner! Oh well…

Reaching forward, Irit tapped the memory eater's head, asked, "Are you okay?"

The memory eater hid his bleeding paws in the snow, nodded hastily, "Yes. Eat now? Please? I am lots hungry."

Irit grinned, "So am I."

"…So… Eat?" Turning to the branch, the memory eater peeled off a small stick, nibbled happily at it, and then offered it to Irit. "Wood is yummy."

Irit glared at the stick before grunting, "I was thinking more of hunting…"


Red had torn up a whole bundle of web, playing with the silk threads before ripping them apart or tying them together, making small string dolls and necklaces with it, before the King finally overcame his somberness and poked his head from his room.

When he saw what she had been doing, he groaned, dragged himself through the hole, and stomped over, "Destructive, little thing, aren't you?" Shoving her out of the way, he bent, made a small gagging noise, and vomited some thread back onto the torn-away spot before spreading it around with a hand.

Red glowered at him, "I'm bored."

The King licked his lips before nodding, "And I'm hungry. Let's go raid the kitchen."

"…Raid the kitchen?"

"Sure…" The King clapped his hands before snorting a cough, wincing, and muttering, "Because you need to eat and the kitchen is right by my store of food."

"Your store of food?" Red had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yes, my store of food." Said the King in an annoyed tone, snapping his jaws at her. "It's for me and no one else! And you can't have any."


The King took Red to the kitchen, stole some hard, blackish bread and sour cheese for Red, and then dragged her to his 'store of food'.

It consisted of a large room, smelling of sulfur, misty and hot. Like the King's personal rooms, it was entirely covered with silk; however, instead of a flat, smooth ceiling, there were several big bumps that caused the threads to show the rock around it.

The instant Red stepped in, she stopped, coughed, "Ew! It's hot and icky in here!"

"Below are the baths," The King explained, grinning as he walked into the middle of the room, eyes glittering in pride, "So the steam comes up and heats this room. Makes it a lovely place if you ever get cold…" He reached up, gently pulled one of the 'bumps' from the ceiling, and brought it to the floor. Red saw that it was a long, lumpy oval.

"What's that?"

"My food…" The King stroked the webbing covering the oval softly before shaking it. The faint sound of sloshing came from inside, and the King grinned widely, "I save these for rainy days usually, or times when I'm starving, but I think I deserve one…"

"What is that?" asked Red, nibbling at her cheese before her nose wrinkled. The smell of cheese and sulfur did not go together. She turned to the bread, bit at that.

"One of the guards who disobeyed me several months ago."

Red choked on her mouthful of bread, struggled with it for a few moments, and then spat out the small, soggy lump onto the webbed floor. Staring at the King, pained tears in her eyes, she asked hoarsely, "There's a person in there?"

"What remains of him." The King shook the cocoon, shuddered with pleasure when he heard the liquid noise.

Red gagged, feeling suddenly sick. However, no bile would rise from her stomach and the action turned to a dry heave.

The King didn't notice. Happily turning the cocoon over, he poked a hole, put his mouth to it, and, tilting the oval upwards, began to groan with happiness as disgusting, rotting sewage flowed into his mouth. A few drops of reddish-white escaped at the corners of his mouth, trickling down his cheeks.

Bile finally came, and Red vomited against the wall as the smell of decomposing flesh hit her.

For the next few minutes, the King continued to have his feel of the rotten contents of the cocoon, oblivious to everything, before finally lowering it, surveying the cocoon itself, and smiling. Turning, he saw Red, pale as snow, trembling against the wall.

Blinking, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Red managed to squeak, "You just… you just… That's disgusting!"

The King patted his stomach, "No, it's not… It's wonderful… Delicious…" He licked the drops of rot from his lips. "Much better than soup or fruit."

"So… so… each of those," Red pointed a finger at the bumps on the ceiling, face twisted in a restrained grimace, "is a dead person?"

"Correct… And I'm sure there's one that's been sitting there a good year and a half… I'm forgetting which… But it's not this one, you know why?" He motioned at the cocoon he had eaten from.

"…Why?" asked Red hesitantly, voice trembling.

The King picked up the cocoon, shook it. The sound of rattling solids now came. "See? There's bones."

Red couldn't take it. Bending over, she vomited a second time.


Irit was elated about his new 'pet', who managed to catch a locust, a small bird, and a decent-sized rabbit. Now, as he headed home, the memory eater slinking behind him, he hummed happily, "Good day in hunting. Three things? That's more than I can catch in day if it's good, and we got it all in an hour. Maybe there's something to that rumor that you guys can 'feel' if there's mirror things close… Right before dark too! We're lucky! Going home, getting ready to eat and sleep and be next to a warm fire all night…" He glanced up at the dark sky, smiled at the stars that blinked down on him, and asked, "So… You're happy?"

The memory eater was dwelling on the image of his girl memory, inwardly pining for her. His paws hurt and he wanted caresses and easing love to take away the pain. However, at Irit's question, he nodded solemnly, grunted, "Thank to you for helping out of hole."

"Of course!" Irit turned, smiled at him, "But you didn't answer my question."

The memory eater stopped, sat in the snow, and whimpered, "Want girl memory…"

"Who?" Pausing, Irit glanced at the memory eater, a bit confused.

The memory eater scrambled for names, "The girl memory! Uh… Gre…Gretel… and… and… Red! Girl memory, Gretel, and Red her names! Nicknames!" He smiled hopefully at Irit, hoping he would know who he was talking of.

Irit's face darkened, "Oh… Yes, I know her…" Turning, he started off again.

The next moment, he felt a tug on his pant leg. Turning, he stared down the memory eater, who gazed imploringly up at him. "Please? Tell me where…"

Irit sighed, bent, and petted the memory eater's head, "Well, I'm sorry to say that she's currently either in captivity or dead."

The memory eater's eyes widened before he shook his head, backed away from Irit, trembling, "Lying bad. Lying really bad if hurt heart of other."

Hurriedly, Irit reassured him, "Look, I don't know whether she's alive or dead. She's probably alive, okay? Don't panic."

"Where? Where girl memory?" The memory eater pleaded, fur raising on end.

Annoyed, Irit hissed sternly, "Calm down first and I'll tell you."

Instantly, the memory lay down in the snow, taking small breaths, eyes tearing up, "Want girl memory… Will calm…" For a few minutes, he remained still except for the occasional tremor before asking softly, "Where girl memory?"

"In the castle."

"Where castle?"

"You're not going to the castle."

"Why not?" wailed the memory eater. "Have to find girl memory!"

Irit glowered at him before asking angrily, "And die in the process?"

"Die?" The light of fear sparked into the memory eater's eyes, "Die? But… Girl memory die if I not go!"

"And what do you care?"

The memory eater stopped, processing the sentence for a few long seconds before mulling over what answer he should give. Finally, he said slowly, "Girl memory my friend."

"Friends die all the time. It's nothing. Get on with li-"

"Girl memory my friend." Snarled the memory eater. "Girl memory my only friend. Without girl memory, I bleed, pain hurting, and die. Girl memory my…" He searched for a word.

Grimly, Irit suggested, "Center? Obsession? Bloody death-sentence?"

Glaring at the scorpion, the memory eater growled, "heart."

"So you like her?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?"

"Love?" The memory eater blinked before asking in confusion, "Love and like not same?"

"Of course not!"

"… Wait…" The memory eater put his hands to his head, searched for a faint definition of 'love' in his brain. What was love? It was related to 'liking', yes, but what else? He bit his lip, concentrated.

Irit sighed, seeing it would take a long time, and nudged him, grumbling, "Let's just go back to my home and eat and I'll think about taking you there, okay?"

The memory eater nodded morosely, "But… I want girl memory…"