He came around to my bed, seating himself next to me and wrapping his arms around me tightly, resting his lips against my hair in a brotherly kiss as I fell back into sobbing. I buried my face in his shoulder, against the warmth that was him. He was so kind to me, so good to the girl whom he thought of as his headstrong younger sister. "I want to go home." I said, a burr in my voice from crying. Mendres nodded, drawing back a little. "I know you do, Sivvy. We all do. But this is important to your people, to your mother. You want to help, don't you?"
I nodded, wiping my tears away for good. "Your mother needs you to take care of you. She has since your father left. If this is what it takes, then this is what you have to do." I nodded, unclenching my fists from his shirt. "Thank you, Menny." I said, standing up and putting my usual blankness on my face. As Mendres turned to leave, he looked over his shoulder at me and said with a gentle smile, "And you need to make some friends." I fell asleep that night dreaming of my father.
The next morning I spent in my rooms, first practicing swordplay with a pattern dance Tennebren had taught me, then returning to my desk to do paperwork. It was always me who did paperwork for my mother, because she was too forgetful these days to do it accurately, and because I had ever since my father had gone away and not returned. When I finished it, I stood to stretch, my eyes falling on a book that I had used when I was younger to sketch things that I saw ad wanted to see. I flipped through it, smiling both at the amateurish drawings but at the better ones.
The sketch book prompted me to go out, perhaps to the beach that was only a few miles from here, to sketch something to make me think of something else. I put the book and a charcoal pencil in a pouch, along with my sword, which I belted to my waist. I went out the door and informed the guards that I was leaving, and not to follow me. They were not pleased, but they could not deny my request. I changed to wolf shape as I dashed from the Nest, my breath coming more freely as I raced past the civilized little houses and streets and people, my strides longer and longer until no longer did it seem that I was confined, either by gravity or by sadness.
I stopped at the beach, letting out a joyous, musical howl, prancing about on my own, even taking the liberty of galloping and leaping about, in and out of the surf, letting the waves lap my feet and sides, my howls and yips of joy coming more and often. Finally, I flopped on my side and changed back to human shape, my clothes wet and covered in sand, although my sketchbook had been kept dry in the treated leather and magically sealed pouch I had put it in. I pulled it out and began to draw, the crashing waves, the harsh cries of seagulls, the leaping of a dolphin I saw far off and brilliant, and the mountains in the distance, as well as the building that housed the Wyvern's Nest, white and tall and gleaming amongst the houses of its citizens.
A hand on my shoulder almost wrenched a shriek from me, but instead I only gasped, keeping my composure as my hand touched the sword at my belt. "It's me," Salem said, flopping down beside me, his eyes following the marks in my sketchbook. "You're a very good artist." I blushed. "I wouldn't call it art, really." I protested mildly. "Just idle drawings. I really should be going, I shouldn't have come in the first place, I-" Salem touched a finger to my mouth. "I'd just keep quiet if I were you." he said, a twinkle in his eyes. "It's easy to tell that you aren't being honest." I blushed even more, my eyes stubbornly refusing o meet his, and instead gazing at my feet as they traced lines in the sand.
"Tell me something, Sivvet." he said, leaving off the title of "princess." "What do the loup do in their spare time?" "We don't have spare time." I informed him primly. "Even the children are most always busy. We are singers, if we have any sort of time for pleasurable activities." Salem nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me more about the loup." So I did. I told him about the songs we all spent spare time writing. I told him about midnight hunts, during which we rarely actually hunted, mostly just pirouetted under the moon, enjoying life and the company of others. I told him about the nursery, where older, childless loup watched over the children, who all slept in a large, soft bed in the center. I told him about the beautiful Den, with its walls that sparkled with gemstones and granite. And I told him about what my parents were like, omitting the death of my father and my mother's mental instability.
When I was finished, Salem nodded. "It sounds beautiful, Sivvet." he said matter-of-factly. "I don't think I've ever heard of anything like that. Your kind can really perform magic?" I nodded. "The humans call us loup-garou, or werewolves. They get the stories from the seductions from long ago, when a loup would bed them in the guise of a simple human female, and then reveal to them the form of a wolf; to see if the human had the strength of will to remain with her as a husband. The loup men did the same to the human females. A loup is the most fertile during the full moon, and that is where humans drew their stories from."
Salem grinned. "That's true?" I nodded. "Of course it is." I laughed, something I did only rarely, but I was feeling considerably more comfortable. "The humans somehow got it into their heads that if they have silver with them, they can repel or kill us. It is a childhood dare to find a human and steal the silver they keep with them."