A/N: Welcome back...
The inside of the inn was plain, but tidy. A bar lined one wall, while wooden tables and chairs were clustered around the rest of the room. Empty of patrons, the room was full of mid-afternoon sunlight. Isabelle and Peabo were ushered to a parlor on the second floor by Madame Helle, Bernard's portly wife.
"Would you care for some soup?" she asked primly, handing Peabo and Isabelle each a bowl before they could reply.
"Thank you," Isabelle said graciously, quietly beginning to eat. A few days on the chilly spring roads had given her an appreciation for hot food. Tasting carrots and peas again was wonderful; Isabelle hadn't had any vegetables nearly as lovely since her Christmas meal with Trestan. So much had happened to them since then: Trestan was free of his curse, Isabelle had nearly died and then recovered, and they had met Friar Justin and Peabo.
Madame Helle banked up the fire as they ate. She dropped a log into the fire with a little too much force, smoke and ash filled the little room. "You may open the window if you like," she said stuffily, took their dishes and departed.
With a sigh, a breath full of smoke, and a cough, Isabelle moved to open the window.
"No, Isabelle, sit down," Peabo said, bouncing up and shutting the window. "I have it." A cold, clear draft filled the room, making the air breathable once more.
"Thank you, dear," Isabelle smiled at him. Peabo was handling the loss of his favorite pet rather well. He pulled his toy top from his pocket and set it spinning on the windowsill. Isabelle sat back down—on the road, she had missed the luxury of chairs as well. Things were wonderfully, comfortably boring until Peabo gave a cry and attempted to dive out the window to the ground a story below.
"Peabo, what are you doing?" Isabelle scolded, "Why are you doing that, more importantly?"
"My top!" Peabo cried, pushing Isabelle aside and sprinting for the stairs. "Dymphna!"
"Peabo, come back here!" Isabelle demanded. "Friar Justin said not to leave the inn! We shall get your top when Trestan comes back. I can't believe that you were fool enough to play with it on a windowsill where it could fall!"
The boy obviously was not coming back upstairs. Isabelle picked up her skirts, rolled her eyes, and ran after him.
By the time Isabelle got to the door of the inn, Peabo was dashing down the street after a grimy urchin who was evidently stealing the top. With a martyred sigh, Isabelle gave chase, weaving through crowds of people who just that morning seemed lively and jovial, but were now grim and menacing. Isabelle pushed her way through the multitudes, trying to keep within sight of her young charge. Gasping for breath, she had long since given up yelling at him; he probably could not hear her if she had tried.
When Isabelle was nearly spent from running so hard, Peabo ducked into a side alley. Isabelle dashed in after him, only to find both herself and the boy surrounded by thugs. Six men, ripe with the odors of sweat, brine, and ale, approached the unlucky pair.
"Peabo," Isabelle said darkly, standing her ground, "you should not have left the inn."
"I'm sorry," Peabo sniveled, backing toward the wall of the alley.
One of the men was getting too close—the liquor smell on his breath was horrible—and was eyeing Isabelle in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She took a subtle step backwards. As he kept approaching, she took another. And another. Soon, her back was pressed against the wall, next to Peabo. The men were in a tight semi-circle around them, leaving no gaps through which to run. Isabelle's stomach churned. What was she to do? Isabelle stumbled, the heel of her glass slipper catching on a crack in the cobblestones. An idea came to her.
"Peabo, do exactly as I tell you--promise me," Isabelle commanded quietly.
"I will," he answered in a small voice. "I promise."
"Close your eyes, count to ten, and then pick up my glass slippers--now!"
"Close my---what?" A quick slap from Isabelle set him counting. "One…Two…"
Isabelle pried off her glass slippers--the men nearby looked confused, but kept advancing toward them. Poor Peabo was terrified as he kept counting. "Three…Four… Five…"
The now-welcomed silver mist descended on Isabelle. For once, she was grateful for her curse as the felt her body become a wolf once more. All was quiet--all eyes but Peabo's tightly shut ones were focused on her and her curse.
"Six… Seven… Eight…"
Isabelle leapt toward the nearest thug. All of the men were paralyzed with fear. With surprise on her side, the thug fell under Isabelle's weight. She managed to take down another before Peabo counted "ten."
"Now," Isabelle shouted at Peabo, even though she knew all he would hear was a bark. Peabo's eyes opened--he too froze in astonishment at the large and rather hostile wolf that had appeared beside him. Isabelle growled in annoyance. Peabo snatched up the glass slippers and ran for his life. The thugs ran in the opposite direction, screaming about witchcraft and enchantments.
Isabelle followed Peabo, keeping up with ease. She could smell the way they had come--their trail would lead back to the inn, but Peabo turned the wrong way. Whining, Isabelle nipped at his heels. Peabo ran faster, batting at her with the slippers, but eventually turned the right way and arrived back at the inn. The boy was about to go inside--something Isabelle had not anticipated for she could not follow like this. He glanced back at her one more time before he was going to enter. Isabelle whined at him ruefully and trotted to the back of the inn. Peabo followed tentatively, still clutching the slippers. Isabelle whined at him until Peabo finally got the hint and set the slippers down. Rolling her eyes, Isabelle stepped into them and was transformed into a woman again.
"Isabelle, what?" Peabo sputtered, "You were a wolf and now you're… Does Trestan know? How did that happen? That was incredible!"
"I shall explain when we return to our room, Peabo," Isabelle sighed in exasperation. "But first--you must never tell anyone about this afternoon or what I became. Promise me!"
"I promise--but you must tell me more!"
"Fine--but only behind closed doors," Isabelle said, leading the way inside.
"If you insist," Peabo said dramatically. Isabelle cuffed his ear affectionately, shaking her head.
Once they had arrived back in their room, Isabelle told Peabo the sparsest details of her curse and her meeting with Trestan. "Now, Peabo," Isabelle admonished, "You must never tell a single soul of our adventure today. Trestan would only worry and I do not wish Friar Justin to know that we disobeyed him. And besides," she added brightly, "everything came through in the end. We are safe and content."
"Except that slimy beggar child has my top," Peabo lamented, realizing this for the first time. Isabelle stifled her groan of frustration and wrapped the boy in a sisterly embrace. "Why is it that beggar children all look crippled until they steal something and run away with it?"
"Because that is what they do," Isabelle replied, stifling a laugh. "Now be a dear and get me a drink of water--this afternoon has been exhausting. Trestan!" Isabelle heard the door open and the two men enter the room.
"Hello cara," Trestan grinned. "I hear your afternoon has been rather exhausting?"
"Boredom is the most exhausting thing in the world," Isabelle lied, kissing his unshaven cheek.
"Indeed…" Trestan said, completely unconvinced. Isabelle was surprised when he said no more about it.
After an uneventful supper, the travelers all turned in early. Isabelle wasn't happy with lying to Trestan--it made conversations rather difficult--but telling him the truth was not a viable option either. Still, she would think about it the next day or put it out of her mind entirely. Still, it plagued Isabelle as she tried to sleep.