PART II: The Lone Wolf
"Your Highness!" Duke Hammond's voice echoed in the long gallery, and desperate, Snow lengthened her stride, pretending she hadn't heard him. She had managed to avoid the persistent counselor all morning, but now it seemed her luck had finally run out.
"My Queen!" The duke panted as he sprinted to Snow's side.
Caught, Snow could only turn to acknowledge him, pursing her lips and trying to look suitably menacing. It was not hard. "Duke Hammond, I trust this is important. I have a pressing matter to attend to and no time to waste." Which was the truth; Snow was going to find that stupid-looking, smirking, infuriating huntsman and wring his neck. He had been now gone a week and Snow had had enough. How dare he make her worry, when he in all likelihood was stuck in some tavern, drunk out of his mind and some all too willing wench in his lap trying to take advantage of his inebriated state…
"It is, Your Majesty, it is of the most utmost of importance!" Duke Hammond rushed to declare, face glistening with sweat, looking disheveled and at his wits' end. "I have just heard that Duke Gherkin and Lady Sonia have changed their wedding feast's main course from ox's testicle and spleen with broccoli and red onions to deer roast with red wine sauce and fried mushrooms! The gall of those people!"
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Snow muttered, thinking that changing one's main course from the horror of ox's testicle and spleen was a sudden show of sense from the couple that had shown so little of it previously. There was now a remote chance that Snow would be able to at least enjoy the feast part of their wedding.
"But the deer roast with red wine sauce and fried mushrooms was to be served in your wedding!" The duke whined piteously. He looked around wildly, and then whispered urgently, "They have spies everywhere, and this proves they are ready to resort to dirty tricks to win, they have no scruples…"
"Win what?" Snow was almost too afraid to ask.
"The most talked about, glorious, exquisite wedding there ever was!" Duke Hammond sounded baffled that Snow was failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
"Oh, my dear Duke, if things are going to go on as they have, I have now doubt that we at least have the most talked about firmly in our corner," Snow sighed, thinking that it would be so much easier if she just eloped. Of course one rather needed to find someone to elope with first.
"They will not win, I'll make sure of that," the duke said darkly, all those years fighting and resisting Ravenna suddenly evident in his eyes, the warrior awakened once more to do battle as the future hang in balance, glory and honor riding at his side.
"I…I'll leave everything into your very capable hands, Duke Hammond," Snow said, wanting to steer clear of the whole wretched business of wedding rivalry. She could only hope that she hadn't just condemned the entire kingdom into another brutal war.
"You can trust me, Your Highness," The duke said solemnly and gave a low bow.
"Yes, well…I have to go now; I have some business to take care of…" Snow turned to go, her escape so very close, but at the last minute paused, for she couldn't quite help herself, "Roasted mutton with mint sauce – I want that on the wedding menu." And then she fled without looking back at the dumbfounded duke.
-o-
The Captain of the Queen's Guard stood at attention, his back ruler-straight, eyes fixed ahead. His queen paced the length of her private sitting room, clearly agitated.
"What do you mean you could not find him?" The queen snapped, and the Captain tried very hard not to wince. "Never mind, that was a stupid question," the queen then sighed, but the Captain knew better than to relax. He had dispatched patrols earlier that day at the queen's request, having been told that the queen would like to see the Huntsman if he could be found and if it would not be a terrible inconvenience for the man. The Captain was seasoned enough to know what it had really meant: drag the Huntsman back at this very instant, whether the man himself wished it or not.
The Captain of the Queen's Guard was a most solemn man and took great pride in doing his work professionally and to the utmost of his capabilities. He had never failed to fill his queen's command. Until now. Despite the patrols having combed through every village, town, tavern and ditch nearby, there was no sign of the Huntsman.
"Did you look in the taverns?" The queen had a dark look in her eyes. "Did you question the wenches? One of those devious women could have lured him somewhere to rob and to keep as…" She wrung her hands violently and kicked at the footstool. The Captain kept his eyes fixed on the purple drapes; he most certainly hadn't noticed anything peculiar in the queen's conduct.
"Yes, Your Majesty, but no one had seen him in any of the taverns or with any wenches," The Captain explained. Then hesitating, he plunged ahead, "We have searched everywhere. If he would be nearby, we would have found him. Maybe he has left these parts and gone, well, hunting."
"Thank you Captain, I certainly hadn't thought of that," the queen glowered at him. The Captain had good instincts and reflexes; they had saved him numerous times from almost certain death. A tingling sense of danger was growing harder for him to ignore and all of his instincts now screamed one thing only: Flee! He suppressed it tightly, for he would do his duty, even if it would kill him.
"Do you wish for the patrols to search further?" The Captain was compelled to ask, even though he didn't think it would yield any great results. When the Huntsman wanted to disappear there was none that could find him. Although the man had an irritating tendency to question everything the Captain did and to doubt the Queen's Guard's competency (as if the Captain and his men weren't the best at their job!), the Captain grudgingly recognized the man's skill at combat and tracking. The Huntsman was also quite skilled at vexing the fair queen to the point of a total temper tantrum – apparently even when he wasn't anywhere near Her Majesty.
Said queen was trying hard to keep her temper, breathing deeply with her fists clenched. Finally, she halted her pacing, turning to look out of the window. "I don't know if it would make any difference," her voice sounded surprisingly small. "If he wants to stay away…"
The Captain wanted suddenly nothing more than to find that damnable man, even if it took him to the edge of the world, just to get that fragile look away from the queen's face. "We could venture into the Dark Forest," he suggested against his will. His men detested the Dark Forest.
The queen was silent for a moment, deliberating. Then she turned to look at the Captain, eyes and voice ringing with steel once more. It heartened the Captain. "Have you any pressing duties here?"
"Apart from a slight…altercation between Duke Hammond's and Duke Gherkin's servants, and a lone wolf, who keeps trying to sneak in to the courtyard, all is well enough. Nothing the Castle Guard can't handle."
"Very well, you can dispatch a few patrols into the Dark Forest," the queen said. Then she smiled slightly and added, "I'm sure your men are going to love that."
"The men will do as the Queen commands," the Captain vowed.
"I'm sure they will," the queen answered gently, her smile waning.
Just as the Captain was about to excuse himself, a hasty knock penetrated the silent air of the room. The queen's expression turned to all-suffering and she muttered quietly, "What now?" More loudly she asked, "Who is it?"
"Lena, Your Highness. There are some people, who ask to see you," a woman's voice could be heard through the thick oak door, slightly muffled. The queen sighed, but did not answer. Lena, one of the queen's handmaidens and a quite comely young woman of reputable background, continued, "Lord Budgy is here, My Lady." Now the Captain could hear the strain evident in her voice. "And Count Perfidious – I mean Count Perfidant is also here. And Master Peevor, Lord Cabot, Baron Beaver – I mean Barmel, Master Colinson, Earl Whitesnake…" The list went on and on. The queen's face whitened most alarmingly.
"Captain, I find myself in need of your service," the queen said, a slight pleading note in her voice.
The Captain would have straightened up, if it had at all been possible; as he already was standing at the most rigorous attention, he stiffened his jaw and boomed at his most serious soldier voice, "Ever at your service, My Queen!"
"Good. Now, I need you to get me out of this room, without any of that lot out there noticing," the queen smirked.
"Yes, My Lady!" Already the Captain was calculating the different routes of escape and their success rate, and how many people he would have to subdue or kill to get the queen safely to… "Where would you wish to go, Your Majesty?"
"Hum, I think…I would rather like to go riding."
And ride she did. For the queen's wishes was the Captain's command. And perhaps people are somewhat glad to know that he didn't even have to kill anyone to get his queen safely to the stables, the mob of badgering suitors none the wiser.
-o-
As people following this story might have guessed by now, Eric had not been spending his time at some tavern and had most certainly not been in the clutches of any wenches. Indeed, if he had met any, they would have more likely screamed bloody murder than they would have swooned and sought out his company, which had been common enough reaction until the old crazy man and his crazy mutterings and all that business of turning into a wolf.
After the initial shock of transforming from a man in his prime into another kind of predator had worn of, Eric had been rather curious and somewhat thrilled. His new body fascinated him and he could not help but explore all the things he could do; how fast he could run, how high he could jump, how hard he could bite. It was exhilarating to smell all the different animals in the forest, to sense the movement and to hear the different sounds. It was a skill he had had before, but now it was hundredfold. It was a part of him in a new way, more deep and profound than he could ever have imagined.
So it is perhaps quite understandable that his first action as a wolf had been to hunt down a deer and fill his belly full with raw, delicious meat. For he had been rather hungry, having left in the middle of the feast, and he had especially looked forward to the roasted mutton with mint sauce, but the blasted announcement had been given before the course had been served, and he had rather forgotten all about it after hearing the ridiculous, horrible news. Had Eric known that no one else had been able to enjoy the dish either, he might have felt a little better.
Be that as it may, the Huntsman had enjoyed his new skin for a time, until he had remembered who he really was and where he had planned to return and who by now surely waited him with murder in her eyes. Most importantly, he remembered there was to be a wedding, which he had to stop at any cost. That was when Eric felt the more unfortunate and inconvenient aspects of his transformation.
It was no use to hunt for the old man; he had vanished into thin air and Eric couldn't even pick up his scent with his new sharp nose. There was no sense in roaming the forest, hoping that some solution would present itself; the Huntsman didn't believe in that kind of luck. Anyhow, these kinds of transformations usually wore off with time. Baron Barmel had been turned into a beaver some years past, and although the situation had been somewhat uncomfortable for all and hilarious to some, the enchantment had ended as suddenly as it had begun. And if Baron Barmel was now called Beaver more often than not, it could not be really proven that some of his unfortunate habits had been born following the time spent as a beaver. He could have picked up that habit to scrunch his teeth anywhere. Keeping an ever growing pile of twigs and wood in the corner of his room was harder to explain, however.
Only other reasonable action left then, was to go back into the castle and try to get Snow's attention and wait (and pray and hope) that the spell would end soon. It was rather easier said than done. To Eric's ever growing annoyance, people tended to be rather violent towards wolves when they weren't fleeing from them in terror. Also, it turned out that the castle guards were quite adept in their jobs; there was no getting past them into the castle's courtyard. Normally that would have made Eric quite happy, but now that he himself had to get inside the castle in secret, it was only irritating and frustrating and wasting valuable time and anything could be happening inside the castle – what if Snow was getting ready to marry that buffoon in that very moment?
For six days and six nights the lone wolf brooded and stalked the lands around the castle, looking a way in that didn't exist and waiting a chance that never seemed to come. In his desperation he even thought of resorting to violence; surely it would be the guards' own fault if they refused to get out of his way…Luckily, on the seventh day, the queen rode out of the castle with only the Captain of the Queen's Guard accompanying her. As glad as Eric was, he would have rolled his eyes in dismay if he had known how a wolf rolled its eyes. The Huntsman had told Snow thousands of times that one guard was wholly insufficient and criminally inadequate for the protection of the queen. Did she ever listen to him? Of course not. The fact that Eric and Snow always rode with just one guard – and that only for appearance's sake – was beside the point, it was quite different, and anyway, Eric would always protect her. (Not to mention Snow was quite good with a sword herself.)
The wolf followed the horses with his nose rather than with his eyes, knowing that revealing his presence prematurely would only lead into screams, curses and violence. Not that he had really any idea how to present himself without causing alarm, or how he could get Snow to realize who he was before all hell could break loose. Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. However, the Huntsman arrived at the metaphorical bridge sooner than expected, for the horses stopped at a small clearing and their riders dismounted. The dreaded moment had come.
Nervous, Eric slunk closer, reminding himself of the importance of his mission. He had once accidentally heard how Marquise Plump had murmured sweet nothings to someone. At first, it had been hilarious to hear how the object of the marquis' attention was "such a sweet, tender lamb", then a little baffling when it was continued with "your tasty, delicious, mouthwatering loins". It had been quite disturbing to realize the marquis was very much alone, only a freshly slaughtered lamb for company. And although Eric now could maybe, just a little, understand the temptation and bliss of fresh meat, the blood still warm…He was a wolf! What was Marquis Plump's excuse?
The wolf hid in the bushes, eyes fixed on Snow. She looked as beautiful as ever, dark hair windblown and trying to escape its fastenings, the simple green riding dress fitting the lithe body most distractedly. She gave her reddish-brown mare a pat and a kiss and then let the horse wander freely in the clearing. The Captain of the Queen's Guard stood in permanent attention, stiff as a ramrod, eyes looking for potential threats. The man was wholly humorless and followed Snow's every movement like a lost puppy, but at least the man was on alert. Eric grinned and bared his sharp teeth. Maybe he could nip the Captain – just a little. The man was so annoyingly proper and severe and uptight all the time, believing he could protect the queen best.
A horse gave a distressed whinny and Eric knew the animals had finally caught his scent. He stepped out of his hiding place, moving slowly, trying to appear unthreatening. But it may be hard to imagine any wolf to look harmless, and it has to be said that Eric in particular appeared anything but safe. He was a big grey-white wolf, obviously strong and fit; the leader of his pack. His eyes gleamed intensely, fixed on his prey, and as he parted his jaws, the sharp teeth were dangerous and fierce enough to freeze the heart of the bravest of men.
The Captain's horse neighed in fear and bolted. For a moment it looked like Snow's mare would follow, but the terrified horse stopped at the edge of the clearing, hesitant and undecided. Clearly she didn't want to leave her mistress behind. The Captain spun around and saw Eric; he paled and drew his sword.
"Wolf!" The Captain yelled, and the Huntsman couldn't help but growl a little at how the man was stating the obvious. "Your Highness, if you could mount and leave the beast to me." The Captain was as courteous as ever, even in the face of danger. Eric wanted to roll his eyes badly and resolved to learn how at the earliest opportunity.
"Really Captain, I am quite capable…" Snow muttered and stood her ground, staring at the wolf, her expression alarmed and fascinated at the same time. A few cracks appeared in the Captain's stony façade, frustration and vexation apparent. Ha! Eric thought ungenerously. Let someone else suffer the queen's bigheadedness for a change. Eric stopped a safe distance away from the man, sitting on his hind legs. He hoped he wouldn't have to resort to wagging his tail – he most certainly wasn't a dog.
"It must be the same wolf that has been trying to sneak into the castle for a meal. It must be starving to seek out humans," The Captain said, wary and clearly calculating how to best dispatch Eric to greener hunting lands. Eric flashed his teeth, just a little.
"It doesn't look underfed," Snow mused, stepping closer to the wolf, "In fact, it doesn't look like it wants to eat us at all."
"Your Majesty! I have to protest!" The Captain sounded terrified. "Please stay back, it will attack you!"
"Nonsense, it will not hurt me," Snow said, certain, and came closer to Eric slowly, as if she was approaching some small timid animal, careful not to frighten it away. The Huntsman didn't know if to weep or laugh – that was his girl! Ridiculously brave, always compassionate and terminally curious. He should have known that she would meet a wolf with open arms; hell, she had once stared down a troll. Snow inched ever closer, her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes fixed on Eric. The Huntsman couldn't have known that his gaze was equally arresting; his eyes had been the only part of him that had stayed the same.
Snow looked into the deep blue of the wolf's eyes and whispered, amazed, "Eric?" The Huntsman's heart thumped almost painfully, his name from her lips such a sweet sound. He couldn't help but be immensely proud, for this proved yet again why Snow was the queen: she was all that was good and true, but she was quite brilliantly smart besides.
-o-