The wolf shivered on the balcony.

Rain poured down out of the slate sky and soaked through his pelt, soaking through skin and into the muscle and bone. It had been twelve hours since Aslan gave his mocking reply of "I hope you brought plenty of food," and the wolf's stomach ached in a constant reminder that he hadn't. His eyes were starting to run with tears—or whether that was the rain, he didn't know and he didn't care.

What a fool I was, thinkin' I was gonna make a bargain with 'im. I shoulda known he'd turn about and walk away, just like he did before. But dammit, I had to try...

And he rose up on all fours and started to slosh toward the doors, but one swung open first. A young girl strode through it, parasol in hand. Heart slamming in his chest, the wolf lifted his dripping head up to her face. It was weepy and full of regret, and it was the face of Queen Lucy.

"Oh, you poor thing," said the Queen. "Quick, get inside. I'm going to get you warm."

"What?" said the wolf. "But I—"

"I can't bear to see you like this!" she said. "Please! Come!"

And she swung about and sloshed into the castle, with the wolf limping close behind.

Five minutes later, she and the wolf were drying off in her bedchambers and standing by a cooking fire. The wolf was sitting in a puddle of his own rainwater, shivering by the hearth.

"I should've helped you sooner," said the Queen. "Aslan told us we couldn't. He said it was part of a plan that was too wonderful for us to understand."

"But why are ya?" he said in a raspy voice. "Ya can't very well go against him..."

"I don't care anymore. When I heard you were out here, I couldn't put you out of my mind. And when it started to rain, I didn't want to stop thinking about you. So if Aslan's not going to help you, and my brother's not going to help you, I suppose it's up to me."

"But what's gonna become of ya?" said the wolf. "Ya can't go on disobeyin' the Lion on account o' me."

"He's not coming back for a while yet," she said softly. "Anyway, it's not going to matter, not as long as this stays between us. Besides, the worst he could do is send me back to my own world. And if he kills you, it's probably better than going on as you have, all alone with no friends and no help."

And she came into view with a glass vial of something red and clear. "It's for your limp."

The wolf's heart did a flip in his chest, but it went still thereafter. Don't get yer hopes up, fool. Ya don't know if it's a trick, or even if it's gonna work...

But he couldn't help himself. He stared hungrily at the red potion as it flickered in the fire light.

"Please," said the Queen as she knelt down and uncorked the vial, "let me give it to you."

The wolf didn't think twice. He opened his mouth and felt a drop of it land on his tongue.

At first, there was just the taste of cinnamon and berries and the sensation of sweet and soothing heat going down. But then he felt a spasm in his back leg, as if something had been jolted awake. He looked over his shoulder, and a rush of strength went up and down his crookshank. His paw began to twitch, and all his limbs began to tremble with awe. With a shaky breath, he lifted himself onto his forepaws, then his good back leg...and then the fourth one.

"By God," said the wolf. "It worked!"

"Oh, hurrah!" said the Queen. "Hurrah for—" There was a pause. Her smile fell, and she went all embarrassed.

"What is it, O Queen? What's wrong?"

"Oh, I've been doubly awful to you, haven't I?" she said. "I've not only ignored you—I've never even asked your name. What is it, dear wolf?"

This time, the wolf's tears were ones of joy. "It's Iain, Ma'am," he said through a smile. "My name's Iain."

"It's good to meet you, Iain. Let's have a meal together, to the beginning of our friendship."

Iain nodded happily. "I would very much like that, Yer Majesty."

"So would I," said the Queen. "So would I."

THE END