Fair maid, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head;
And every hair a sheave shall be,
And every sheave a golden tree.

George Peele, 1558-1596

Peewit searched the village mound for Johan, only to find him gathering fruit from a grove of trees with Sabina and a group of villagers. They wanted to get as much of the first harvest in before the storm blew it away or damaged the trees.

"Johan, I need to talk to you!" he screeched as he rode into the trees. Johan swung down from a branch and landed gracefully on his feet. Sabina considered following his lead, but reconsidered and climbed down the ladder.

"What's wrong, Peewit?"

"Come back with me to the cottage and I'll explain. It's about your father."

They apologized to the others for having to abandon their work, and agreed to carry some baskets of cherries back to the village.

"He recognized Maenad? Are you sure?"

"She seemed pretty sure. Then she ran off, talking about 'the pack' whatever that means. Hey! Do you think it could be those other wolves?"

"We'll worry about that later, I have to go tell father what's really going on, if I can," Johan said, handing his baskets to Peewit.

"I'm going with," said Sabina, handing Peewit her two baskets and following Johan down the trail.

"Later? Hey! Wait!" Biquette bleated, almost a laughing sound.

Johan raced through the village's muddy streets, praying his father wasn't alerting the people about a werewolf in their midst. He was near the entrance to a woodshed, when an arm reached out to pull him in. It was Edelhart.

"That dog of yours is a monster! Don't try and tell me you didn't know! What in heaven's name do you think you're doing, associating with such a creature? I've seen them up in the north, what they do!"

"She's not…she is a werewolf, but she's an ally! You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"An ally? Surely the King didn't seek her out?"

"No, but the King trusts her, she's not like the others…"

"I'm his servant." Interrupted Maenad, gruffly, standing at the entrance to the shed.

"Servant?"

"I was taken his prisoner. He could have executed me, but spared me in exchange for my servitude. The king sent me with your son to retrieve you."

"Is this true, Johan?"

"She is here on the King's orders, yes."

"And you think she can be trusted…"

"I know she can be trusted. Ask Sabina and Peewit."

Edelhart eyed her with continued suspicion, but did not make a move against her. Maenad bowed deeply and followed the two men outside, into the rain.

They all settled down into their cottage. Tension hung in the air like the black clouds outside. Edelhart wouldn't take his eyes from Maenad. He believed her story for now, but he clearly did not trust her. He sat by the door hand ready at his sword, while she went about eating and drinking and relishing being able to spend the storm on two legs. Peewit tried to break the tension by telling awful jokes and playing his bagpipes, which he had snuck along in his pack. Johan and Sabina sat miserably watching and listening.

Eventually, Peewit ran out of "songs" to play and Edelhart let his guard down enough to get some sleep. The four moved close around the fire.

"You said there was a 'pack,' you mean those wolves you were with at the pond?" Peewit asked, helping himself to some pottage.

"Yes. Those are the wolves I mentioned. But you cannot tell anyone about them. I promised I'd keep them safe if they helped you. They're a special pack. I do not want to betray them."

"What makes them so special?"

"They just are."

"Will they be all right in the storm?"

"They should be. It's you humans who are the threat to them." She glanced at Edelhart with narrowed eyes.

"I think…it'd be better for me to go back to them when this rain lets up. Which by the smell of things won't be for a while."

The rain pounded on the thatched roof of the cottage and the wind blew fiercely all night, rattling the door and single shutter. Thunder crashed outside, while the embers of the fire provided faint light inside.

"Maenad?" A small, soft voice called. Maenad lay covered by a rough homespun blanket next to Sabina. Her hands and feet twitched rhythmically, she was dreaming. Sabina rose quietly and went to Johan's bench across the room. He had a look of concern on his face as he slept. Did I cause all his troubles? she wondered, laying her head on the bench and brushing her hand across his cheek. The beginning of a goatee was starting to show on his chin. She gently kissed him. He opened his eyes and smiled.

"Everyone's asleep. The thunder woke me up." Johan sat up groggily and put his arms around her waist after she sat down next to him.

"They need to rest up. As soon as this storm breaks, we will need to return to the King's castle." There was a twinge of regret in his voice.

"I think storm will last for a long time."

"I hope so. I'd like more time admire you, my dear."

"No you don't. I look terrible, like I've been working in the fields all day."

"Don't say that. I've always thought you were most beautiful with your hair loose, riding and fencing."

Sabina beamed, then kissed him again, on the mouth, on the cheek, on the neck…

Mrrrroww…

The both looked up to see a large cat, sitting in front of the fire. Her coat was tan, flecked with gold. Despite the only light coming from embers in the hearth, her fur glistened as if sunlight shone through the leaves of a deep forest, and her ears were tufted like a wildcat, though she was clearly tame. The cat looked at them with half closed eyes, looking content as only a cat can. But there was something vaguely more than cat-like about her. Something in the eyes, and the shimmer of her fur.

"Where did that cat come from?"

"Probably hid herself here before the storm."

The cat looked around the room, then back at the two, and began to purr.

One of their companions began to snore loudly, and Peewit shifted in his sleep, still clutching his bagpipes, letting out a teeth-grinding squeak.

Without uttering a word, Johan gathered up their bedding, took her by the hand, and gestured to the door to the stable, to the hayloft, where it was dark and silent, save for the patter of rain on the roof.

The cat waited for a while by the hearth after the two left the room, then calmly strode outside, disappearing into the storm.