(words 1,942 this chapter)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 32-33

The Narnians

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

chapter9

The Wolf Dog

The snow laden path up ahead faded into an unnatural fog just before Fain was jerked awake. He could feel a damp icy patch spreading across his right arm.

"Is everything alright son," a disembodied voice asked.

The satyr even from this distance could feel the cold radiating not only from the paw resting on his arm but from the fox's entire body.

His feet sliding from the edge of Fain's pallet, Merbos took a seat on the floor wrapping his tail around himself. "I had been laying here listening to you mumbling in your sleep when ' of a sudden you went all quiet and still, if I woke you I'm sorry."

"Being woken from a nightmare is nothing to apologize for Merbos,' Fain assured him. 'I had been laying here thinking about the first time Tobruk tried pulling the sleigh and well... I guess I must have drifted off."

Merbos with a chortle remarked, "Yes, I remember the day well. So many folk passing through Midway act like they're carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders so it was always a pleasure whenever you and Tem were around..." his voice trailed off. "Fain about your father... he was a faithful subject, a loyal friend and I am going to miss him ever so much."

Fain tried covering his face with his left arm so Merbos wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes. This act triggered a white hot pain that shot through his chest causing his lungs to catch in mid-breath. 'Is this all I've got to look forward to for the rest of my days,' he wondered while waiting for the spasm to subside.

The idea of living in constant pain or spending his days in a drug induced stupor sickened him. He again started toying with the idea of putting an end to all of this when that spark of grim determination planted by his father returned to remind him of the oath he had sworn. 'He would pay back these good people for all the sacrifices they were making for him, no matter how long it took.'

Azron's observations from earlier in the day weaved their way back into his thoughts. The badger had mentioned there was something different about the fox. The satyr now saw it too. He could hear in Merbos voice an inflection that was never there before, that voice of self possessed indifference now held an almost paternal quality.

He doubted he'd get back to sleep anytime soon so it seemed to him the perfect opportunity to try to get Merbos to open up about himself. He breached the lengthening silence with, "Merbos...?"

"... umm," came the fox's patient reply.

"Merbos, I don't really know you all that well, might it be alright if we talked for awhile," Fain asked hopefully.

Merbos standing again planted his front feet on the pallet. "Sure Fain, what would you like to know?"

The chance offered him, the youth began rattling off a string of questions he had always wanted to ask the fox. "Your Da, that is, your father... what is he like, is he still around and your Mum, too. Where were you born-do you have any siblings-I bet your life's been one long adventure-would you tell me all about it."

Merbos giving him a heartfelt smile, chuckled. "You don't really want to hear the ramblings of some old coot now do you? Wouldn't you rather hear a story instead? I know of one I think you might enjoy. It's called the wolf dog and it's a favorite among the folk of the Western Woods."

Merbos settling back down to the slate tile floor began, "It goes something like this. There was once in Lantern Waste a fox and his lady fair who loved each other full and well. This union in time would produce a litter of kits, two dogs and two vixens. Now as the folks up north will tell you, the sign of four in any way, shape or form might just send the normally dispassionate Witch into fits of uncontrolled rage.

"The idea of two sons of cunning and two daughters of guile living right under the witch's nose she deemed intolerable. She summoned all her available troops and sent them out to quash this perceived threat to her absolute authority. This of course made life rather difficult for the two parents, forcing them to constantly seek out new lodgings in which to shelter their youngins.

"Their mother, when she felt they were old enough to understand, gathered them to her explaining that there might come a time they'd have to separate and flee for their lives. If that day were to come then they were to run away following their noses and not look back no matter how much they wanted too. When they could go no further they were to stop and find a place to hide, waiting there until someone came for them.

"One night soon after, in an old wild badger's den they had made their own father appeared out of the dark shouting 'Run- Run!' A moment later the roof of their borrow along with their world was torn asunder."

The sound of sleep deprived grumbling of other smugglers coming from the darkness, Merbos realized he had been speaking overly loud.

Fain and Merbos in the stillness that followed heard a swish-swish sound coming from the gloom. Silhouetted by the lone stub of candle on the bar, Helria swathed in a floral brocade night gown and waste length stocking cap, appeared out of the gloom. A cup in one hand and a bowl in the other she stopped next to Fain's bed setting the earthenware mug and bowl down on the corner of the pallet.

Planting balled up fists on her hips she offered them one of her soul restoring smiles. "Merbos are you disturbing my patient,' she asked in a hushed tone. 'I could here you from all the way across the room."

page 33

The fox with a smile, explained. "I thought I'd regale Fain with a tale of the north I once heard and I guess I must have gotten a little carried away."

Helria moved to the forward end of Fain's stretcher and picked up first one then the other of the two boxes that had been used to immobilize his head and set them down on the floor. She straightened before laying the palm of her hand on Fain's forehead as she observed, "We shan't be needing those any more I'm thinking."

Turning to the fox she noted, "I don't believe it's a good idea to let Fain get too excited right now."

Fain tried raising his hand to protest but was overwhelmed by another stab of pain running threw his chest. He let the hand drop back to the plank.

"Please, please Helria, I'm not the least bit tired and I'd very much like to hear the rest of the story," he wheezed.

After the tragic death of his father Helria knew she could deny Fain no reasonable request, so she acquiesced. "I have a bowl of weak broth and a cup of willow bark tea I'd like to see you finish so I guess it would be alright."

Sliding a hand between Fain's head and the folded blanket that was used as his pillow she could not but admire how the satyr endured the pain she must have been inflicting on him. The she-minotaur sat and as quickly as she could scooted down to a point where she might rest Fain's head against her thigh. The bowl hovering beneath his chin she ladled several dollops of soup into the satyr before setting the dish aside.

Once again dawning that seraphic smile she had so carefully cultivated to put people at ease, Helria bid Merbos. "Pray continue with your yarn, master scribe."

Merbos paused a moment gathering his thoughts. "Where was I? Oh yes, the root entangled roof of the shelter pealed aside perhaps from the blow of an axe, one of the dog kits remembering his mother's instruction launched himself through the rift over their heads into the night.

"Shouts and curses filling his ears the fox did as he had been told and ran like the wind straight ahead into the darkness. Soon though his strength along with his speed began to wane, so much so he had to force himself to set one foot in front of the other - "

"His name?" Helria trying to get a few sips of the opiate laced tea into Fain inquired of Merbos.

The fox queried. "His name? Who's name?'

Not bothering to look over at Merbos, she asked, "The kit's name. What was the kit's name?"

"His name? Why, it was Merb... Moibly, yes that's it. his name was Moibly,' Merbos quickly added.

"Now if I might continue. The fox kit... that is Moibly, exhausted, could go no further. Looking round he espied an ancient yew bush, deciding it's branches weighed down by the snow might offer some small measure of protection against the wind. Curling up inside this makeshift ark, alone and frightened Moibly wept himself to sleep.

"The dawn's first light found him cold, thirsty, hungry and despondent. The day passing offered no sign of relief. Thirst getting the better of him, the little fox in desperation licked at the ceiling of his snowy shelter. The small amount of icy liquid he was able to collect on his tongue only made his stomach hurt all the more.

"Seeking nourishment Moibly tried taking a bite of the dry, yellow needles that made up his bed. Truly, this was a very bad idea,' said Merbos, gravely. 'Every mother's child knows, as Moibly would have if his mother had been there, that the needles of the yew plant are poisonous.

"Chewing the objectionable tasting stuff he quickly spit it out. However, swallowing the residue still lining the insides of his mouth caused Moibly to fall into a toxic stupor. His vision fading, in a state of delirium he stumbled out into the night. Staggering along under the blanket of unseen clouds he'd trip over one thing or another falling on his face

"Sprawling out on the snow would tamp down the fever in his blood enough that he might once again gather his feet under him and press on. Time and again he'd find himself repeating this ritual until finally his strength gave out. Moibly rolling on to his side whispered a tearful goodbye to his parents and siblings before giving over to his fate."

Helria turn to look at the fox, her face taking on a contemptuous expression. "That's it? That's the end of the story?"

Merbos donning a mischievous grin responded to her question with, "An ending, perhaps or perhaps, just a beginning.