“You may have tangible wealth untold.

Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.

Richer than I you can never be

— I had a mother who read to me.”

- Strickland Gillilan

In the keep of the Wolfgang den, set against and, in places, inside a mountain, overlooking a valley surrounded by ranges that kept the humans out and the werewolves safe, I sat upon a bed of furs and blankets, speaking with the leader of the clan. It might have been an absurd notion, an impossible situation even…but after my short time in returning to Glenwilde, I had gotten used to the absurd and the impossible.

Bastian had fetched some more logs for the fire which had been starting to grow low.

“It gets cold in the mountains…and on the plains…and pretty much everywhere.” A spray of cinders shot into the air as he laid a log onto the flames, unafraid of the fire. He brushed his hands off and looked around. “What do you think of the room?”

“It’s lovely.” I said sincerely. “I can’t imagine Kendra would give it any of her ‘five star’ awards but it’s warm, simply furnished and cosy.”

“I would have accepted the adjectives of ‘grand’ or ‘regal’ had you been inclined to use them.”

I laughed softly. “I guess I don’t know that much about werewolf décor. Where do the others sleep?”

“They all have their own rooms, grouping together as they see fit. Wolves are fairly social and share our sleeping spaces. We as werewolves have adopted this.”

“It must seem a bit of a waste, having a guest room like this sitting empty.”

Bastian stared at me. “This isn’t a guest room.”

“It’s not?”

“It’s my room?”

“It’s what?” I stood up in horror, getting off the bed in haste. “Jurgen led me here. He said it was where I was going to sleep.”

“And you are.” Bastian insisted.

“Then…where will you sleep?”

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“You most certainly will not.”

“It’s my room!”

“Then I’ll go elsewhere!” I gathered up some blankets and headed for the door, determined to put as much distance between myself and the bed as possible.

“You most certainly will not!”

Bastian’s arm whipped out and his hand grasped the doorframe, blocking my exit.

“Bastian!” I exclaimed.

“Bethany,” his tone softened and I met his amber gaze, “you were put into my care. I am responsible for your safety. I cannot let you sleep anywhere other than here. The door is able to be barred and I am here to protect you.”

“But,” my cheeks were hot, “this is your den…your clan…”

“And over the years, smaller clans have been absorbed into the Wolfgang clan.” Bastian explained as he let go of the frame and looked down at me. “Some of them are the remnants of clans that have been wiped out by humans. Bitter and enraged, one of my own might seek to make you pay for another’s crime. I would avenge you…but the damage would be done. After the way in which Christel threatened you, softly so as not to make an overt challenge but enough to scare you, can you really tell me you would be entirely safe beyond this door?”

I glanced at it and held the blankets tighter.

“No…” I murmured.

“Then here you must stay.” Bastian walked back to the fire, knowing I wouldn’t leave the room now.

“I’ll…sleep on the floor.” I offered, going towards him with my blankets.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Bastian said without room for argument, taking the blankets from me. He knelt and began to make himself a bed. I retrieved two more blankets and something that resembled a pillow and held them out to him.

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly. “It seems so…barren.”

“I have slept on the hard earth and rock of dens in Alte Fehde. This,” he gestured to his makeshift bed, “is luxurious in comparison.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Of course…I could always sleep in the bed with you.”

“Ugh…” I threw the pillow at him which only made him laugh. “One of these days, you’re going to be in earnest and I won’t take you seriously. Haven’t you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?”

“I have not.” Bastian stood and removed his vest, laying it neatly on his trunk. I tried not to be distracted by his bare chest as I recounted the tale.

“It’s the story of a boy who was meant to watch the sheep but he got bored so he cried, ‘wolf, wolf!’ and all the villagers came running, ready to defend the sheep. But there was no wolf. It was such good fun that he did it a couple more times until he really did see a wolf but the villagers were so peeved about his pranks that they didn’t come…and he was eaten.” I sat cross legged on the bed. “So you see, no one believed him either.”

“I promise you this, Bethany St James, that if I ever decide to be serious,” Bastian leaned in close, smelling like rain, lingering spice and wood fire smoke, his amber eyes gleaming, “you will not be able to mistake my intent.” He hovered close and I held his gaze before he drew back and chuckled softly. “You are a guest in my home…and I promised to be a gentleman.”

He lay on the makeshift bed which he’d made up close enough to the fire to enjoy its warmth but not so close that he would become scorched by it. I lost sight of him as I curled up in the bed. The fire crackled and spat, cinders tumbling softly and the world became much quieter. I rolled onto my side and looked at the space next to me. Not for one moment did I want to ask Bastian to come join me on the bed…but it was a bed large enough for two. I reached out and touched the other side, wondering just who had been in the bed before me. Who had Bastian taken to his room? Christel? There were many female werewolves…did Bastian have his own…harem? In wolf packs, there was usually only one breeding pair, an alpha male and an alpha female but there were human qualities to the werewolves…were all the children I saw in the inner court, Bastian’s? That couldn’t be right, surely.

But then, I didn’t really know him that well.

Not here.

At ‘House of Figs’ he was flirtatious and jovial and a gentleman.

Here he was a werewolf alpha, a member of the conclave that voted for hunting and killing humans…

He was different here. Not unkind or opposite to how I knew him…but he was more…commanding. There was an air of authority to him, of strength and decisiveness…and of danger. He had fought Dietrich with blink of an eye reflexes and I’d heard him growl at Armin…what had he growled at him about?

Oh yes…something about me…providing litters…but the way he’d phrased it…

“What is on your mind?”

“Huh?”

“I can hear you huffing and clucking your tongue.”

“Sorry…”

“Is the bed not comfortable?”

“No, I mean, yes…it’s fine.” I sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You are worried about finding the haiku?”

“I am worried about not finding it.” I paused. “I should have asked, did Aunt Jo stay in here?”

“She did. Just the one night.”

“I should have searched this room then.”

“It was the first place I looked but, in the light of day, I would recommend you conduct your own search in case I missed it. There are not too many places it could be in here but Befest itself is quite large.”

“You said you took her to another couple of places?” I sat up, grabbed my pillow, which was one of the things Bastian had told me to bring and threw it at the end of the bed. It looked strange, the purple and aqua print against the earthy, dark tones of the room. I pulled the bedding up and lay the wrong way round on the bed so that I could look at Bastian who lay on his back, illuminated by the firelight into a bronze and tawny statue.

“The old bastion that I mentioned was one place.”

I rested my chin on my hands. “What was the other?”

“Stein Anbieten.”

“What’s that?”

“A ring of stones you can see from the old bastion.” Bastian glanced back at me. “We’ll visit both tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I put my head on the pillow. I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t tired. I had a million thoughts running through my head. I peeked at Bastian. He was already asleep. I couldn’t see his eyes because his head was towards the fire and his ears blocked my view but his chest rose and fell gently. I sighed and put my head back down again.

Did he have his way with me?

Why did Armin phrase the question like that?

It sounded…unpleasant.

I was in the same room as a man who had always flirted but never took advantage…and yet I could feel a knot of tension in my stomach, a sickening dread.

What if the Bastian of Alte Fehde was not as honourable as the one of ‘House of Figs’?

I peered over my pillow at him and hated myself for my doubts. He was just lying there for goodness sake!

“Bastian,” I whispered so softly that, if he were asleep, I would not wake him, “are you awake?”

“Yes.” He said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

My throat tightened. “I…I need to ask you something…but I’m afraid to.”

Bastian twisted onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Princess, I would hear your every question.” His eyes grew concerned at my hesitation.

“I…something is bothering me.” I licked my lips. “Something Armin said in the tunnel,” Bastian’s eyes narrowed and I suspected he already knew what I was going to say, “about my being young enough to bear litters…”

“It was an observation of your age in the crudest sense. I will clip him over the back of the head tomorrow and rebuke his insensitivity.”

“I suppose that’s how you view women, though…” My voice trembled. “Bitches, I mean…female canines…able to bear lots of children for you…kind of like kings used to, to ensure their bloodline continued…”

Bastian sat up proper and I did the same, hugging my pillow tight. “Bethany…do you think that the women of the Wolfgang clan are a type of harem? That every night one of them warms my bed after I’ve had my way with them?” His words were too similar to what Armin had said. I felt sick. Bastian took my hand. “Bethany…I have mated with no female.”

“Yeah right…” I protested weakly.

“I swear to you.”

“No one gets as good as being flirtatious and confidence without…experience.”

“Have you known many werewolves?”

I hesitated. “Well…no…”

“Do you think wolves suffer crisis of confidence?” I stammered and shook my head. Bastian rubbed my hand with his thumb. “Male werewolves do not have the same, for lack of a better word, ‘hang ups’ as humans when it comes to females. Perhaps I am a little more confident than most but I am the alpha.”

“Then why haven’t you taken a mate?”

“I haven’t found the right one.” Bastian explained. “An alpha’s mate is an alpha unto themselves. She would need to be strong, beautiful, bold…beautiful…”

“Got it…”

“And able to stand with me and against the world. The humanity in me, for I am loathed to say the human as I never was one, has enough restraint to wait. I will live far longer than any wolf or human. I can stand to be patient until I find the right one.” He tilted his head, catching my eyes as his tawny locks created a halo of gold around his head, backlit by the glow of the fire. “Have I allayed your fears?”

“Yes…” I cringed and removed my hand from his. “No…” I tucked my arms around myself. “It wasn’t just what Armin said. It was…the way he said it…like…you had…”

Bastian’s countenance darkened and his jaw tightened.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, “I tried to forget about it, I tried to ignore it and just now, it all came back to me…the way he seemed to imply…”

“The comment was raw and scathing…but not of you…of me and my conduct. Armin knows that is not a path I ever wanted to go down.” How could someone talk with their teeth so tightly clenched together? Bastian ground out the words with vehemence.

I shivered. Bastian got up and heaved some of the bedding up and over my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth. Then he deliberately sat back down on his bed on the floor.

“You say ‘path’…does that mean…it’s been done before?”

Bastian sighed, his shoulders, which were normally straight and noble, bowing.

He was ashamed.

“You remember that I told you, when werewolves first came into being, there weren’t many of us?” I nodded. “Those that survived the humans hunting them down went into hiding, grouping together. Back then, they were more human than werewolf. The transformation only occurred during full moons. Over the course of many generations, we have learned to adapt ourselves to the transformation, able to control it,” he gestured to himself, “although it is strongest during Her Majesty’s fullness.”

“You mean a full moon?”

“Yes, that.” Bastian cleared his throat. “But in the beginning, during the bulk of the month that werewolves were actually human, the humanity in them craved connection and closeness. The only ones who would stomach their aberration were other werewolves. Even with families beginning to be born, there was a very small ‘dating pool’ to choose from. Some of the werewolf males would go to the villages while they were human and satiate their lustful needs with the most willing women they could find. Of course, this led to children born with the werewolf gene. The humans retaliated, hunting down the werewolves. Of course, the only werewolves they ever caught were the very young or the elderly. The humans were also careful to avoid the full moon for they would not stand a chance against the fit, young adult werewolves. When the full moons occur, the humans lock themselves in their fortified settlements and wait out Her Majesty’s ascent. But the werewolves found a new way to avenge themselves and to propagate their species.”

Bastian swallowed and barely met my gaze. “The werewolves would lie in wait in the fields for a young woman to wander too far from her companions…”

“They raped her?”

“Not just her,” Bastian shuddered, “all of them and not just once but until the settlements were full of women pregnant with werewolf cubs. It was a time of terrible violence and violation. Daughters…mothers…none were safe…” He cringed. “I…do not like to think what happened to some of those women or their babies…but there was one woman who was cast out of her village, the settlement not far from the bastion in Alte Fehde. She gave birth on her own and placed the baby on a stone. She was going to kill it when a female werewolf stopped her. The werewolf offered to take the baby and spare her life. The girl agreed and returned to the settlement. I do not know what happened to her but a wordless agreement was struck.” Bastian sighed. “Instead of killing the humans from this particular settlement, every planting season the werewolves raped the women in the fields and the babies born from this violence were placed upon the stone. The werewolves took the children and raised them, rebuilding their numbers and creating larger family groups. Because the women of the settlement held in their bellies the next generation of werewolves, the settlement was spared from attack.”

Bastian glanced at me then looked away. “Not a pleasant story, I know.” He sank onto his bed.

“That’s what Armin meant,” I whispered, “that you’d…”

“I’d never.” Bastian insisted.

“But it’s what he thought had happened,” I shuddered, “and then you’d felt bad when I’d begged not to be cast away…and you’d brought me here.”

“He has no other explanation as I cannot tell him about your world or ‘House of Figs’.” Bastian admitted. “I want to believe in a better way, a new culture of werewolf that doesn’t rely on killing and violation.” It was strange to hear him speak so passionately about something he didn’t sound sure of. He knew what he wanted…but he was doubting himself about being able to accomplish it.

For Bastian, it was unheard of.

“Have other humans come to live with werewolves?” I asked quietly.

“A very few. Werewolves are stronger, faster and live longer. Humans, by cruel comparison…”

“It’s okay, I get it.” I smiled weakly. “At least it’s all in the past now, right?”

“As much as it can be.” Bastian rolled onto his back and sighed. “The move to this valley seemed to break the habit and much energy was put into the construction of the keep and the other buildings. The Wolfgang clan is quite large as well so it’s not as if the males need to find females elsewhere.”

There was something in his voice, the way he said ‘need’, that tied a torniquet around my heart.

“Sometimes people confuse ‘want’ with ‘need’.” I said softly.

Bastian closed his eyes. “Yes…”

“Bastian…”

He twisted and looked at me. He reached out a hand and brushed a tear from my cheek.

“Yes.” He said gently. “My father was just such a werewolf.”

The tears began to fall. “I’m so sorry…”

He sat with me on the bed and held me warmly, my face buried against his chest. I had an image of a beautiful, blood red haired woman in tattered clothing placing a baby on a rock while a werewolf loomed in the darkness, ready to steal his son away.

When I woke the next morning, I was in bed and completely covered in blankets. I pushed my way to the top and looked around. The room was devoid of life except me and the fire that ate the logs hungrily. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

“Bastian?” I called softly, feeling a fool after I did so. “Come on, Bethany. Get up. You don’t need to be babied.”

The fire was a welcomed warmth as I changed, tugging on some boots over my leggings, a long sleeve top with thumb holes to keep the sleeves from creeping up, my coat and gloves.

To be able to say honestly that I was not hungry should anyone offer me raw elk for breakfast, I ate another muesli bar. Afterwards I scoured the room, hunting for the haiku. Bastian was right. There weren’t a lot of places for it to hide in and within ten minutes, I had exhausted every location.

As if sensing my defeat, I heard a knock at the door.

“Come in?”

Jurgen appeared, bowing from the waist. “My lady, my lord requests your presence in the inner court if and when you are ready.”

“I’m ready.” I nodded, taking up a beanie and cramming it onto my head. If the bite from the corridor was any indication, it was a very fresh day outside. I followed Jurgen, taking care not to step on his grey tail. He wore the most clothes out of any of the werewolves who were still quite lightly dressed despite the chill in the air. Jurgen wore a shirt beneath a tunic and as I studied him from the back, I noticed of his ears had a chunk missing from it. The wound was old and scarred over but it struck me again that there was something remarkably odd about him that I could not put my finger on.

“Did you sleep well, my lady?”

“Oh…once I got to sleep, yes I did, thank you.”

It turns out I’d been exhausted and only the stress of the insinuated yet unconfirmed violence of Armin’s words had been keeping me up. I’d grown incredibly weary afterwards and Bastian had put me to bed and gone back to his own.

Jurgen nodded and continue to lead me on.

We exited the keep, walking across the inner court. Armin was barking orders at a large group of two dozen militia all made up of young men and women. Bastian was observing them from the side, seemingly about to communicate with Armin with a few gestures and eye movements. Armin was able to adjust what he was doing and I was deeply impressed at the fluidity of their movements.

Bastian spied me and moved through the ranks of the militia, dodging their movements without watching for them. He seemed to instinctively know when to duck, dart or hesitate. He emerged from the other side and smiled at me.

“How are you?”

“Well rested.” I nodded, trying not to see Bastian as an abandoned baby. “Armin is keeping the militia on their toes.”

“He is an excellent captain of the guard…when he isn’t bellyaching.” Bastian snorted as Armin came closer.

“Whinge all you like but we’re accompanying you.”

“We?”

Bastian nodded. “Armin insists I need babysitting and so he has decided that our trip to the old bastion and Stein Anbieten would make a good training exercise.”

“Oh,” I scrambled mentally to come up with something to say, “well…the more the merrier, right?”

“Uh…right?” Armin seemed taken aback then shook it off. “I’ll ask for volunteers.”

“Make sure you use the soft end of the stick!” Bastian chuckled. “Armin’s way of asking for volunteers is to threaten them with a training baton.”

“Isn’t it dangerous, having half your militia away from Befest?” I asked.

“Not half, only about a quarter and those not in the militia are perfectly capable of fighting.”

“I know but,” I went up on tip toe and Bastian leaned down so I could whisper in his ear, “what if someone stages a coup while you’re not here?”

“There are too many loyal to me to do that.” Bastian assured me. “Besides, I am the alpha and any conquest of the Wolfgang clan must result in my defeat.” He ruffled my hair, sending my beanie askew. “Worry ye not, Bethany.”

“I’d be more worried if I had longer hair.” I muttered, fixing my appearance.

“Armin will have the volunteers ready in a few minutes. We travel light and fast.” Bastian indicated to Jurgen and they began to speak together. I got the feeling they were discussing clan business and stuck my hands in my pockets and looked around the den. I spied Elke in an undercover shelter where there was a number of strange machines that all seemed to be manually operated as well as a stack of drying racks and several piles of pelts. I waved and when she waved back and smiled, I went over to her, glancing around for her sister.

“Christel is in the valley, hunting deer.” Elke said, tucking her hair behind her ear, her almost albino colouring striking me anew along with the luminous quality of her eyes.

“Oh,” I laughed softly, “sorry.”

“She’s protective of me.” Elke admitted.

“Big sisters often are…so I’m told.” I shrugged then looked around. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing pelts for tanning.” Elke pointed at a pile. “Those are salted and dried and in that rotating drum, there are about a dozen soaking. They’ll dry on those racks and this,” she held up the one in her hands, “is to be polished.”

“You’re polishing animal skin?” I giggled.

“I’m smoothing the inside of the leather.” Elke laughed and pressed her foot on a pedal, spinning a horizontal cylinder in front of her, pushing the pelt across it. I watched, fascinated by the work and then, because I recalled her limp, I glanced down at her feet. Her uninjured foot was the one working the pedal. The other didn’t sit quite the right way as though it was attached wrongly to the ankle. “I’m too slow to be a scout or a hunter…so I do this.”

“Sorry,” I blurted, “I didn’t mean to stare.”

Elke shrugged. “I have gotten used to it. Besides, we all need somewhere warm to sleep and blankets to keep the chill away.”

I thought about the warm bed I’d enjoyed last night.

“This is very true.”

“Some of my work might even go into making clothing.” Elke picked up a white pelt which was beautifully smooth. “I could just imagine my sister’s own beautiful outfit but done in this…”

“It would be incredibly elegant.” I nodded, admiring just how soft it was. “Like a wedding dress.”

Elke gave a little huff. “Wedding is a human word.”

“Oh yeah? What do werewolves do?” I answered back her friendly challenge.

“Mate.” Despite her brazen answer, I saw a blush on her cheeks which was impossible to hide on her pale skin.

“Well…do you have ceremonies to celebrate ‘mating’?” I asked.

“No.”

I faltered. “Well…what about making a beautiful outfit to gain a mate’s attention?”

Elke shook her head and sighed. “Who’d want to mate with a lame bitch?”

“Elke,” I was surprised at her vehemence, “is that really…important to werewolves?”

“If I was in any other clan, I’d be cast out and dead by now.”

“Oh.”

“I know my sister is frustrated with Bastian for not hunting humans with the rest of the conclave…but if not for him…” Her light blush turned into a heated bloom. I saw her looking past me and turned to see Bastian and Jurgen approaching. Given that Jurgen was old enough to be her grandfather, I guessed her fluster was due to the rather handsome werewolf alpha who smiled with his pointed teeth.

“Elke, love your work.”

“I…ah…” She blundered.

“Bethany, are you ready?”

“Yep,” I turned and smiled at Elke who put her hands over her face, “hey…you’re not the only one to crush on him.” I whispered.

“You too?” She asked, peeking out from between her fingers.

“Actually…no.” I admitted. “But it’s easy to see why and how.” I waved and hurried after Bastian. “Good to go?”

“As soon as Armin moves his tail!” Bastian barked. Armin whistled and he and a group of six of the militia jogged across the inner court. I noticed that Dietrich was among them. “We’ll catch up with you at the den.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I better take the long route up.” Armin said smartly. “Let’s go!”

Dietrich, on the end of the line, bumped into Jurgen on his way past. “Make way, old man.”

Bastian, already going to clip him over the head, was stopped by Jurgen.

“Admonishing him will not change his attitude, or my age.” Jurgen let go of Bastian’s wrist.

“Impudent little pup.” Bastian muttered.

“You’re old!” They both looked at me. I clapped my hand over my mouth.

“Uh…okay…”

“No, I mean, what I meant to say is…I finally figured it out.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I didn’t realise it before. You’re old.”

“Bethany…”

“There aren’t any others.” I hastened to explain, studying Jurgen. “You’re the only werewolf that I’ve seen who is…”

“Old, we get it.” Bastian chuckled.

“It is not common, in werewolf culture, for any member of the clan to live as long as I have.” Jurgen admitted. “When one exists for violence, violence often claims you long before the skein of your life has reached its natural end.”

“Blood demands blood.” Bastian nodded and looked at me. “Jurgen is my father’s older brother.”

“He’s your uncle?”

Bastian nodded. “Jurgen remembers this valley when only the foundations of the keep were laid.”

“I much prefer your foundations, my lord.” Jurgen smiled kindly.

“I hope they stick.” Bastian tilted his head. “We’d better get a move on. The militia are swift as deer.” He took my arm and we headed up the path that led to the tunnel which fed into the mountain, crossing it swiftly to the other side. I’d remembered my torch thankfully and followed Bastian as fast as I could. We didn’t spare much time for talking, having spoken until late last night and concentrated on climbing through the heart of the mountain to reach the den.

Armin was waiting for us.

“Where are the others?” Bastian asked.

“Outside.”

Bastian paused. “Dietrich?”

Armin held up his hands. “Hey, you’re the one who suggested he join the militia.”

“He’s never listened to me before.”

“I thought he might be trying to sow seeds of dissent in the ranks of the militia.”

“Keep an eye on him then.”

“Always.”

I followed them out of the den into the open air. It was crisp and cool with a faintly darkening sky.

“You see those clouds?” Bastian nodded at Armin. “You sure about this? I feel like we’re going to get a soaking.”

“Good. Wet weather training.”

Armin snorted then sprinted across the ground to where I saw the militia gathered. He ran through their group and for a moment I thought I saw him trip but he hit the ground and suddenly, he was a wolf, his long legs stretched out, his tail streaking through the air. In an instant, the rest of the militia followed, all transforming and chasing after him.

“Woah!” I gasped. “Look at them go!”

“Fast, aren’t they?”

“Yeah…I can’t run that fast.” I suddenly realised I would be expected to keep up with wolves. “Bastian…I can’t do that. Bastian?”

He was doubled over, his skin sprouting tawny hair so fast he was almost completely covered by the time his hands hit the ground. But they were no longer hands. They were paws on his forelegs and his back legs trembled. He opened his long muzzle and gave a yawn as though becoming a wolf was like the end of a long day being human. He turned his head and looked at me, nothing about him familiar except his tawny coat and the amber of his eyes.

“Bastian…” I breathed, stunned. He jerked his head. “What?” He did it again. “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes and out of his jaw came a semblance of speech.

“Get on.”

I stared at him in horror. “No!”

He was huge, the size of a Shetland pony with the litheness of an Arabian stallion and yet I was mortified at the thought of riding him.

He tried to make his mouth move. “…ethany…it’s hard…to talk…this…get on.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

He snorted and gave me deathless glare.

“Okay…” I cringed and tried to swing my leg over, whacking his tail as I went. “Sorry!”

He straightened his legs and I had no choice but to clutch at his hair. My toes were close to the ground. I hiked my legs up as far as I dared.

“Hold on.” He grunted and began to jog. Not walk. Jog. I was bounced around and clung to him all the tighter. It seemed that’s what he was waiting for. The moment he knew I was clutching him firmly, he took off.

Now, I’d not been horse riding before except for some pony rides when I was young and Aunt Jo had taken me to a petting zoo. I’d love the idea of horses but was utterly terrified at the size.

But apparently needs must…and so I found myself riding bareback on a werewolf alpha across the plains of Alte Fehde, a fictional world that resembled the wild Scottish high country.

And Bastian was fast.

The immediate descent of the Wand was the most terrifying, Bastian plunging down outcrops and leaping across chasms…of course they were much smaller and narrower in reality but in my mind, he was traversing the world. When we reached flatter ground, his stride lengthened and the speed he had blown me away with increased exponentially. I kept my head down as much as I could, his body shifting powerfully beneath me, his long legs eating up the ground until it was all a van Gogh blur. Everything was vibrant but in motion, endlessly moving and causing my mind to grow dizzy.

When I felt him slow I braved a look up and over my shoulder. The mountain was well behind us.

“That’s incredible.” I breathed. “Uh…can I get down now?”

Bastian nodded and I slid from his back and staggered about on my feet.

“Did you get her drunk first?” Armin asked, curiously, emerging from behind a tree.

“I’ve been bounced around so much all my bones are in the wrong place.” I retorted.

“I apologise for the rough ride.” Bastian said, regaining some of his human form.

“It was fine.” I said, pretty sure my teeth were still chattering together. “Where are we?”

“The old bastion is on the top of that ridge.” Bastian folded his arms. “Why have you stopped, Armin? I could have kept going.”

“Yes, because it’s always about you.” Armin snorted. “I told the volunteers that if they want to eat, they have to catch it…so they’re currently chasing rabbits. We can walk for a bit while they dither about until they learn to work together as a team.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle and fell into step with the werewolves, enjoying the sensation of moving slowly.

“What will you eat if you don’t catch yourself a rabbit?” I asked Armin.

“Oh, I’m a hypocrite.” He held up a food pouch.

“As long as you share.” Bastian looked at him pointedly. Armin sighed and handed it over. Between them they ate the contents. I was offered some but declined, preferring my muesli bar. I would be fed up with them by the time I got home but they were better than dried meat.

The countryside was incredible, waves of green grass shifting with the breeze, changing direction just like water. I found myself picking wild flowers and breathing in their scent as we walked, reaching the old bastion and finding the militia there, eating their food which I tried not to look at.

The old bastion was atop a ridge. It wasn’t nearly the same level of grandness as Befest and many of the stone blocks were missing. I guessed they formed the base of the keep. There was thick brush hedging the old bastion in and trees had grown, offering additional shelter. I suspected, when the old bastion was occupied, that the hedges and trees had been cut back, offering a fantastic view of Alte Fehde. I could see the appeal to living somewhere that no one could approach without being seen.

“Did Aunt Jo go anywhere particular while she was here?” I asked, poking around.

“It was the place we stopped on the way to Stein Anbieten.” Bastian explained. “We did not stay here for long.”

I hunted as best I could but the old bastion had been fairly well stripped of anything that could hide a note from curious eyes or the elements. It didn’t seem likely that Aunt Jo would leave an important note out in the wilderness. I began to wonder if I should have concentrated my search to Befest. My searching must have brought me close to where Armin and Bastion at the lip of the ridge.

“We’re not going to get back before it pours.”

“We’ll make for Stein Anbieten and then to the Hohle.”

“Nothing beats sleeping out in the elements.”

“You know your problem? You’ve gone soft.”

“You know your problem?”

“I’ve got more than one?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re welcome to run back to the Wand.”

“Nah…there’s no decent cover. We’ll be better off going the way you suggested. I’ll get the militia off their backsides and climbing down the ridge. You’ll take the long way, yeah?”

“Yep. Even at a stroll, we’ll make Stein Anbieten well before dark and more than likely before it rains.”

I heard Armin move off and came around the wall to where Bastion was sitting on a chunk of stone, taking in the view.

“Find anything?” He asked after his ears twitched.

“Nothing.” I sighed. “I’m beginning to think this was a wasted trip.”

“We still have Stein Anbieten to visit.”

“I know…” I cringed. “But the militia and Armin don’t seem too pleased. I don’t want to drive a wedge between you and your people.”

Bastion took my hand, drew me close and gave me a hug around the shoulders, kissing my hair that was exposed, my beanie shoved inside my coat.

“Don’t worry about me and my people. And as for Armin…we always talk like that to each other. Keeps me from being pigheaded.”

I thought about how they looked, the two of them standing side by side. “Is Armin your actual brother?”

“No. We call each other brothers because we fight like siblings do but we have different fathers and mothers.”

I swallowed, hoping to get the conversation away from the topic of mothers after the revelation of how Bastian was conceived the night before.

“I just thought he might be Jurgen’s son.”

“Jurgen never took a mate.”

“Oh,” I paused, “that seems…unusual, doesn’t it? I mean, he was the older brother. Don’t successions of leadership fall to the eldest? Or is that just in human culture?”

“In werewolf clans, it is the strongest who leads and Jurgen, though elder, never had ambitions of leadership. And…I’m not sure Jurgen fully trusted my father.” Bastian admitted. “Despite his aged appearance, Jurgen was hale and hearty and a fantastic fighter. If he had taken a mate and produced cubs, he might have been perceived as a threat, particularly as his views of humans were so different to my father’s. I don’t think he wanted to risk a mate and cubs being targeted by my father, even though Jurgen still has no desire to be alpha.”

“He doesn’t hate humans.” I nodded. “He’s so polite and has manners when he speaks to me.” I looked at the giant blue sky that was beginning to be overtaken by grey. “He seems nice.”

“He is.” Bastian got up. “We should start moving. The militia will go down the ridge, practicing their climbing skills. We’ll go down the slope and head to Stein Anbieten once on level ground.”

We left the old bastion on the opposite side to the sharp ridge slope. The going was much easier than attempting to descend what was basically a mini cliff but it was not an easy stroll, no matter what Bastian said. I was panting before long.

“I am so unfit.” I huffed.

“I could carry you again.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

Bastian helped me down a sharp decline where my grippy boots were put to shame against his wolfish hindquarters. Even his tail helped to balance him and we made good time.

“Bramble. Watch out.” He pointed and I skirted around the bush.

“Bastian.”

“Mmm?”

“Apart from yourself and Jurgen, is it safe to say that humans are despised by werewolves?”

“That would be a mostly accurate statement, yes.”

“Was it Jurgen’s influence on you growing up that made you not hate humans?”

“Gosh no,” Bastian snorted, “I was not as bloodthirsty as my father wanted me to be but then, no one was. I was well trained in how to fight, Jurgen making sure I could hold my own and I had the beginnings of my father’s physique. But I was a bit of a wanderer. Armin and I used to play hunter/prey.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“One of us would be the prey and the other would track them down.” Bastian leaned close. “Armin was a beast to find. I don’t mind admitting that he won more often than not when he hid and when he was the tracker…he was fast.”

I clambered down and up a small gully while Bastian leapt over it, offering his hand to me so that I could reach the other side. The air was thick with floral scents and rich earth. We were still forging our way through the gorse and brush and overhead, birds cried across the sky, heading for their nests, away from the clouds that soaked grey into the blue.

“One day, I thought, I’ll trick him and I wound my way through the tunnels, hoping the maze would confuse his scent. He still tracked me down but I hadn’t lost until I’d been caught and ‘killed’. I ran through the tunnels, weaving this way and that, escaping out of the den then doubling back and found myself facing the supply room. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to realise my deception but by doubling back, he wouldn’t know if my scent was coming or going. So I opened the door and leapt in…and found myself in the Observatory.”

“Just like the Pevensie children in ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’.” I laughed.

Bastian paused, turned and stared at me. “There are no lions, witches or wardrobes in this story.”

I shook my head. “Never mind. Go on.”

“I think there must have been a booking or something because there were humans everywhere, tables everywhere…legs everywhere. In a panic I ducked beneath a table and hid behind the fringe of the tablecloth.”

“How old were you?” I exclaimed, imaging the giant form of Bastian crouched beneath a table.

“Thirteen summers or so.”

“Thirteen?” I gaped. “But…that means you would have been at ‘House of Figs’ at the same time as me.”

Bastian shook his tawny locks. “Don’t forget that time runs differently there to here. It’s a lot faster.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting.” I sighed. “So, you were hiding beneath a table…what then?”

“I prepared myself to attack these lowly humans who had dared to invade my home.” Bastian chortled. “Gosh, I was a right fool, imaging I could do so when I was still a pup. Anyway, right before I was about to attack, I heard an exclamation and a clatter nearby and food dropped to the ground within arm’s reach of me. A bread roll literally rolled in my direction. I sniffed it. I licked it…I devoured that roll in one bite.” Bastian moaned. “Bread…I tell you my favourite meal is bread upon bread, roasted, toasted, drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with herbs, crusty on the outside, soft as clouds on the inside…”

“And a big glass of milk on the side?”

“So much so!” Bastian laughed. “Once I had a taste, I had to have more. I began sneaking about, snatching food wherever I could. I’d forgotten about hunter/prey or Armin. I was just trying to taste as much as I could. I was busy stuffing my face with, oh something delicious, when the edge of the tablecloth lifted and Jo’s face appeared as she squatted down. She looked at me kindly and handed me a roll. She said, it tastes better with butter.”

“And?” I urged him when he fell silent.

“I bolted, overturning a few chairs in my haste and leapt through the door, back to this world. Then I realised I was still holding the bread roll…and I ate it.” Bastian chuckled. “I resisted going back for at least three days…which was, in your world, the better portion of two weeks. ‘House of Figs’ was closed that day and Jo was hanging washing. I went snooping for something to eat when bloody Rob caught me.” Bastian shook his head. “I wasn’t used to his smell. He doesn’t smell alive so I didn’t think to fear it until he grabbed me and no matter how hard I fought, I could not free myself. Jo went, oh it’s you! I wondered if you’d come back. Are you hungry? I stopped struggling then and hung, meek as a cub.”

“Seriously? You overcame generations of human hatred…because she fed you?”

We reached the bottom of the ridge and began to emerge from the tree line.

“You know what they say? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Bastian patted his six pack. “Rob watched me very carefully as Jo made me something to eat. He warned Jo about my ‘werewolf’ appearance.”

“You had some traits?”

“Ears and teeth. We are born as humans, pink and helpless but when we become adolescents, we begin to develop wolf traits until we mature into adults and learn how to control the transformation. You know human puberty?” I nodded. “Imagine a werewolf going through it…but with three times the attitude, body changes and hormones…I was feral…but oh how the food tamed me.” He began snickering to himself.

“What?”

“I remember…when she turned on the hot plate and began cooking the steak. I was horrified! No! You’re ruining a perfectly good piece of meat!”

It was so nice to walk and talk, far from the sorrow of the conversation of the night before.

“How did she explain it?”

“She quoted someone, Winona LaDuke.” Bastian cleared his throat. “Food for us comes from our relatives, whether they have wings or fins or roots. That is how we consider food. Food has a culture. It has a history. It has a story. It has relationships.” He laughed softly. “I thought she was mad…but the meat she made me…the tastes…the flavour…” He turned to me. “You have to understand that for wolves, it’s a feast or famine diet. We can go without but when we can eat, we eat a lot. It’s not about the taste but about the sustenance. I realised there was so much more to food than simply survival. I had to know more. I began visiting regularly, begging to be taught, desperate to understand this…thing called cooking.”

“You came for the food and stayed for the cooking?” He nodded. “Why?”

Bastian was quiet for a while. I glanced at him several times, waiting for him to answer.

“Because…without it…we as a people are lost.”

His words, whipped from his mouth, barely grazed my ears before being tossed away.

I blinked. “I don’t understand.” I admitted.

“In a culture like yours, saturated with art, music, culture, artisans, chefs, tailors and all the rest of it…how could you?” He swallowed. “The history of my people is steeped in violence and grievous violations. We are marked with blood, soaked through to our souls. And we will be forevermore if I do not stand against the tide and say, ‘enough’.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds foolish to imagine that cooking could transform a people into a culture…but I thought of it as a door, an opening to expose my clan to ideas, to new ways of living…to actually be a people who leave something wonderful behind…instead a trail of corpses or weeping women in fields.”

His words, hollow and aching, tore at my soul.

“Jurgen never hated humans like my father did. He saw them as distant kin while my father saw them as prey. But Jurgen’s attitude was lacking in that it did not replace what we were doing with something else. It was like stopping an addiction, breaking a habit…” Bastian’s hands clenched. “When I became alpha after my father’s death, I faced furious opposition that I would not exact vengeance. My brethren howled for blood while I called for peace. They know of no other life…I want to give them something else to, for lack of a better term, sink their teeth into.” He turned to me, his gaze for the first time ever, hesitant and needy. “Is that…wrong?”

“No, it’s not wrong.” I grasped his arm and walked close by his side. “It’s an admirable thing to do, to want to give your people something lasting to live for instead of the thrill of the kill.”

“We do still hunt and I do insist our militia are the best in all the conclave…but I can feel them itch for violence as if the need to revenge ourselves upon the world that cursed us is written on our bones…” Bastian took a deep breath and breathed out. “I find I am…stumped at how to breathe life into this dream I have. Imagine the valley, fields of wheat and vegetables, harvest for feasts along with animals we’ve hunted…prepared by werewolf cooks with herbs and spices and feeding artisans of leather, beautiful clothing not just for function but elegance and pots on the table, carved with painstaking skill while musicians serenade us as we dance…” Bastian sagged. “I know we have some small creativity but I truly believe there is so much more and after a while, we will no longer itch for violence but yearn for peace.”

“That’s what your ancestor on the dark wolf side, wanted.”

“I am not sure we will ever achieve it,” Bastian squared his shoulders, “but I am going to try.”

I walked alongside him as we crossed the plain, skipping over a stream.

“I can feel a question looming.” Bastian chuckled after a minute.

“Yeah…do you really think this is something you can achieve?” I drew back as he looked at me, hurt. “I mean, achieve on your own? Wouldn’t it be easier to share your vision with others in the clan? You’re trying to carry the responsibility of your clan on your shoulders alone…”

“Come on, Bethany,” Bastian said in a lightly disparaging voice, “would you give Christel the knowledge and location of ‘House of Figs’ and the vulnerable humans beyond?”

“Oh don’t be stupid.” I blurted and he laughed. “What about Jurgen? What about Armin?”

“Armin…to be honest I’ve come close to telling him several times.” Bastian sighed. “It kills me that I keep secrets from him…but I just don’t know how he’ll take it. If anything were to happen to that beautiful café, to Jo…to you…”

I smiled and nodded. “I guess I understand. You’re protecting us too.”

“Naturally.” Bastian sighed then looked at the wildflowers in my hand and plucked a dandelion stem from it, gazing wistfully at the soft white fronds in a sphere. “I confess, a part of me hopes I would be challenged and that I would fall, allowing another alpha to take over. If he was bold, courageous, fair, kind and compassionate…I would give him the Wolfgang clan and live out my days at ‘House of Figs’.”

“Seriously?”

Bastian winked at me. “A very small part,” he blew on the dandelion and the sphere disintegrated, pulling apart to drift upon the breeze that was drawing the clouds ever constantly across the sky, “that holds its resolve about as well as that flower holds its shape.”

“Hrm…but the flower goes on to plant seeds in fertile ground and new growth springs up.”

“You mean, in order for my vision to be realised, I have to die?”

“That’s not what I said!” We laughed. “Perhaps we took the analogy a little too far.”

Stein Anbieten was a ring of stones standing upright in the ground in the middle of a field of green so vibrant it looked fake. It should have looked friendly and yet there was a desolate atmosphere about it, standing on its own.

“It looks like Stonehenge.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

I made a mental note to show him a picture of it when we got back to ‘House of Figs’ before stepping closer to the stones. They were at least twice my height and each one was engraved with a symbol of the moon in a circle. There was a full moon and, on the stone on the opposite side of the ring, there was no moon in the circle. Filling up the three spaces in between the full moon and no moon on each side were depictions of the moon’s changing shape from no moon to full and back again.

“It’s the moon cycle.” I looked at Bastian. “Right?” He nodded. “It’s incredible.” Perhaps he was accustomed to it and didn’t find it fascinating but I was entranced. “Wow…it’s amazing…can I go into the middle?”

“Of course.”

I could easily imagine Celtic music and Irish dancers, medieval fairs and bonfires being hosted in and around the circle. It had a distinctly mystical feel about it.

In the very centre was a circular, flat stone on top of four smaller stones, creating a table.

“I’m definitely getting Narnian vibes now.” I breathed. “What was this place called again?”

“Stein Anbieten.”

I tried to say it, mangling the pronunciation. “Stein Anbieten…what does it mean?”

Bastian leaned on one of the upright stones and gazed at me. “Offering stone.”

“Offering stone?” I frowned. “Offering?”

He cleared his throat, opened his mouth then looked away.

Abruptly, his words to me the night before returned.

“Not far from the old bastion, on a stone…a girl gave birth to a werewolf…” I looked at the stone table in the middle of the ring. “The offering stone.”

A wave of nausea hit me. I swallowed it down. I had to search the appalling stone table in case Aunt Jo had hidden the haiku underneath it. I tried not to look at it, fumbling blindly underneath, frightened of what I would find. But there was nothing.

I pushed myself up and found myself gazing at the stone. I shivered, staring at it. I reached out and tentatively stroked the top of it.

“Bastian,” I whispered, “was this…” I looked at him.

Bastian nodded. I pulled my hand away. He held out his to me and I took it, glad to be drawn out of the circle. Thunder rolled ahead and the wind began to pick up.

“We’re going to have to hurry or we’ll get drenched. The Hohle isn’t far away.”

Hohle was an apt description for the den the werewolves considered to be accommodation out in the wild. The mouth of it was low in the ground and completely invisible to me. I would have walked by it, ignorant to its location but Bastian drew me in just as the lightning split the clouds and rain began to fall. I nearly let out a shriek, half falling against a body in the den.

“I don’t smell that bad, do I?”

“Armin.” I shivered, my eyes struggling in the dark. “Are you all in here?”

“We are. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No.” I sighed then smiled which he could probably see. “Thank you for asking though. Ow!”

“Watch your head.”

“Yeah…” The ceiling of the den was low and without being able to see, I must have looked a right fool scrabbling about. I decided to stay close to the entrance as there was a little light to see by. The mouth of the den was sheltered enough that the wind couldn’t penetrate but it began to howl like a wolf and the temperature dropped. I shivered and put my beanie on my head.

“Bethany, come to the back of the cave.”

“I can’t see a thing back there,” I protested, “and my torch will hurt your eyes.”

“You will see better from back there once your eyes have adjusted.” Bastian’s profile became clearer as he leaned closer, the faint remaining light in the sky giving him a marble finish. “Bethany, you will freeze this close to the entrance.”

“I don’t want to step on anyone.” I hissed.

“I will guide you.”

I cringed but did as he said, inching through the den towards the back. Bastian guided me patiently until my feet struck something soft.

“What is that?” I froze.

“A few pelts left behind for travellers seeking a dry place to wait out a storm.” Bastian insisted. “Lie down here. I’ll lie close and you can share my warmth.”

I was so glad the den was dark. “I’m…not entirely comfortable with that.”

He chuckled. “Would it help if I were a wolf?”

“Huh?” He pressed against me and I reached out, feeling his coat. “Oh…alright.” I sat down on the pelts and felt him lie down nearby. Bastian was right, of course. At the back of the den, the silhouettes of the werewolves in the den with us were illuminated when the lightening flashed. They were all curled up in wolf form which was probably more comfortable to sleep in I supposed. I looked down at Bastian. I couldn’t see him but I could almost feel his insistence. “Alright, I’m lying down.” I curled up on the pelts and shuffled towards Bastian’s back. He was warm and dry and, thankfully, in wolf form. It made it easier to imagine I was not pressed up against a man. I did not need to add that complication to my life.

Funnily enough, it was quite easy to go to sleep.

Back in Befest, I relaxed in a large tub of warm water and felt my sore muscles unwind.

“He needs a bloody saddle…” I muttered, my backside aching from riding on Bastian across Alte Fehde to the Wand. After a fairly decent night’s sleep, we’d woken early and left the Hohle to return to Befest. There was little point hunting around the endless sea of green. It would only call attention from hunters should they see a pack of wolves aimlessly wandering and I was sure Aunt Jo would have deliberately put the clue somewhere I could find it.

Only I hadn’t.

After we got back to Befest, I had searched as much as I could but the keep, the inner court, all the rooms…there were so many places a clue could easily hide.

And before long, I had begun to ache like I had never ached before in one particular spot.

Bastian had laughed when I’d tried to sit down, screeching in pain. He asked Jurgen to bring a tub to his room and fill it with hot water then, graciously yet with his usual wink, left me to bathe in peace.

“Don’t you want to wash up?” I asked him.

“Hmmm, two of us in the tub…” He smiled. “A dash in the valley river is more than enough for me.”

“Brrrrr.” I shivered.

“Which is why I did not offer such a soaking to you.”

When the water had turned lukewarm, I clambered out and rubbed myself dry with a rough blanket. Werewolves didn’t need towels, apparently. The fire kept the room warm as I put my dressing gown on and poked through my bag.

“Dressing for dinner,” I mused, “I feel like I’ve wandered into the set of a Victorian novel.” There was a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“Jurgen, my lady.”

“Oh…I’m not dressed.”

“I hoped as much. I have brought you something to wear.”

Immediately the thought of Christel’s Viking-style halter top, that barely covered her breasts, came to mind…that and the fact that unless they were children, werewolves didn’t wear pants. They remained in beast form from the waist down.

“Uh…I’m not entirely comfortable wearing werewolf attire.” I called through it.

“It is not werewolf. It is human.”

My curiosity overrode my nervousness and I unbarred the door and opened it. Jurgen stood beyond with a dress draped across his arms. He carried it with the tenderness that someone would hold a baby. The dress was silvery grey with a rounded neckline and short, straight sleeves followed my georgette bell sleeves in white that would probably reach my wrists. The bodice was tapered into the waist and then ample skirt followed. The short portion of the sleeves and neckline were trimmed in a thick band with Celtic styled symbols stitched around it.

“Jurgen…it’s beautiful.” I stepped back. “I can’t wear that. It’s too fancy.”

Jurgen’s eyes were soft. “My lady, this dress has been hidden away for too long. If you do not wear it, I fear no one will and it will fall apart, forgotten and unadmired.”

“Okay,” I laughed, “you’ve convinced me! But I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get into it on my own.”

“I will leave you to change and when you reopen the door, I will lace up the back for you.”

Jurgen was as good as his word and very gentlemanly. He also produced a belt that was designed to loop around my waist, its length covered in the same Celtic styled symbols.

“It fits you well.” Jurgen said as he adjusted the lacing at the back.

“It’s really lovely,” I paused, “but Jurgen…why do you have a human dress in Befest?” A horrible thought occurred to me and I spun around. “This wasn’t Bastian’s mother’s dress, was it?”

Jurgen gazed at me with his pale eyes. “He told you about her?”

I floundered, wondering who knew what about Bastian’s mother.

“He…we discussed things…it came up…”

Jurgen sighed sadly. “In the end, it was the knowledge of what his father had done which broke his hold over Bastian. My brother, Albrecht, was born without a shred of mercy or kindness in him. He knew of the consequences of his actions…he simply did not care and he was determined to make Bastian a perfect replica of himself. For my small part, I tried to teach Bastian about compassion and humility but of course, his father’s strength and power were extremely alluring…but then Albrecht boasted to Bastian about how he was roaming Alte Fehde, looking for vulnerable prey and he saw a human woman walking alone…and he was filled with lustful rage that she would dare be so bold in his land.” Jurgen swallowed. “Albrecht returned to Befest and bragged of his conquest, saying he had made sure it was not a mistake she would make again. I felt sickened to even be counted as his brother. I counted Her Majesty’s full ascent for nine months. My brother also counted and when I noticed he was spending a lot of time in Alte Fehde, I began to tail him and saw that he was watching Stein Anbieten. And then, one night, weeping, there she was…with a babe in her arms which she placed upon the stone.”

I shivered, imagining a screaming baby Bastian lying on the cold stone table.

“When Bastian heard about the manner in which he was conceived, it was as though a blade had been passed between himself and his father. Albrecht didn’t notice, but I did.”

“What about his mother?” I asked quietly. Jurgen shook his head, his grey hair, grizzled and wiry. “Oh.” I breathed. “Then…whose dress is this?”

Jurgen smiled, a light glowing in his eyes. “My wife’s.”

I stared at him. “Your wife?”

“Yes.”

“But…werewolves don’t have wives or husbands. They have mates…and Bastian told me you never had one.”

“It is because I never told him.” Jurgen gestured to the trunk and I nodded. He sat on it, his body creaking as much as the trunk did. “Over fifty years ago, when I was much younger, Albrecht ordered us to attack a caravan of humans. He liked making sure I was part of the pack as he knew I loathed the bloodlust in his eyes. There was a carriage that toppled over. As the rest of the pack attacked the humans on horseback, I looked into the carriage. Looking up at me was a pair of the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen frame with jet black tresses in a single thick braid.” Jurgen smiled sadly. “She was trembling with fear yet had the courage to say, ‘if you are going to kill me, do so quickly’. In the face of her bravery, my resolve was undone. I pulled her from the carriage and hid her, biding her to wait until we had gone and to run for the settlement.

I returned to Befest with no one any the wiser…and dreamed of her eyes gazing at me. I returned to the settlement several times, looking for her from afar. When I finally spied her atop the walls, my heart burst into love.” Jurgen shook his head. “I didn’t even know her name. She came out, with guards surrounding her, to a river and I gazed at her from across the other side. Then her blue eyes lifted and she saw me. Her mouth opened to cry out and I made to run but instead of calling for her guards she bade me to stay. We spoke in hushed tones and she told me where her window was. I climbed the wall many times and we conversed through the window…”

His eyes were filled with joy as he recounted his memories.

“Then she told me, she was betrothed to a nobleman of the settlement and was there to marry him.” Jurgen closed his eyes. “My heart sank. I knew I could never hope that my love would be reciprocated but I hoped all the same. Yet, after she had delivered this news, she told me that if she had a choice, she would be mine.” Jurgen pressed his hand to his chest. “I had to leave her, to be wed to this man but as the time drew nigh, I found myself gazing at her window from my hiding place near the river, knowing my chance was slipping by…and then she found me. She had slipped out of the settlement and come to me, begging me to be hers. Me? Begged to be hers? I should have been the one begging her.” Jurgen swallowed. “We went to Stein Anbieten and there, where once there had been only obligation and fear, we pledged to love each other.” He gestured to my dress. “Saraid wore the dress you now wear. She brought me a black and silver tunic with white sleeves which I would have willing worn…but then she stood before me without fear as to my werewolf form and put it aside. She said she loved me first and would always love me best.”

“You sent her back?” I gasped softly.

“I had to.” Jurgen admitted. “Albrecht would not stand for a human in Befest and even if I could have convinced him, I knew he would not hesitate to force himself upon her or kill any cubs of my own. Not that there were any cubs. We were careful. She married her nobleman but she always called me her husband.” Jurgen sighed deeply. “Perhaps we should have run…but Albrecht would have tracked us down or we would have run afoul to other werewolf clans. I could not protect her as I ought. But she came to me whenever she could, even while bearing children for her nobleman.”

His texture voice ebbed away and I opened my eyes, lulled into a storytelling trance and gazed at him.

“Jurgen? What happened?”

He would not meet my gaze. “After ten years of meeting in secret I entered Alte Fehde and smelt smoke and blood on the wind. The settlement had been attacked and my beloved Saraid had been killed.”

“Jurgen,” I reached out to him, “I’m so sorry.” I swallowed. “Was it Albrecht?”

“No, a different clan had taken offense to the settlement and raided it. But it wouldn’t have mattered whose clan it was. I could never take part in the hunts again. I could not challenge my brother but I tried to instil my affection for humans into his son.” He looked at me. “You and Jo are proof of my success in helping shape Bastian into a fine, decent, strong young man.”

I gazed down at the dress. “I feel unworthy to wear this now.”

“Nonsense,” Jurgen stood up and studied me, “it does my heart good to see it worn again. I gave Bastian the other tunic years ago but the dress would look silly on him.”

I giggled and straightened. “Oh! He wore it to my birthday party!”

“And now you will wear Saraid’s dress,” Jurgen offered his arm.

I trembled but took it, allowing him to lead me out of Bastian’s bedchamber. We headed down the steps of the keep to the feasting hall where the evening meal was well underway. I could hear the loud talking, the belching and even some growling.

My heart trembled.

“You’re not going to abandon me at the entrance, are you?” I asked him urgently.

“I shall walk by your side.” Jurgen promise and escorted me into the hall.

The table at which the werewolves feasted was made of several long tables and the chairs were stumps of wood. Only Bastian’s chair was a little more elaborate but even it would be struggled to described as having ‘rustic charm’ in my world.

The table was lined with werewolves, devouring meat with their pointed teeth, barely letting it touch their plates and not a piece of cutlery to be seen. I had hoped that my entrance amidst the chaos would go unnoticed. But one of the militia we had travelled with, sitting beside Armin who was at Bastian’s right hand, caught sight of me first and gave his captain a nudge. Armin looked up and his jaw fell open.

And like a ripple effect, all talk in the hall faded out to nothing.

It was like a mash-up between Cinderella and Vikings.

Bastian twisted in his seat after the silence reached deafening levels and his jaw dropped hopelessly.

He clamped it shut but for a moment, it was a real thrill to see him so unguarded and taken aback.

He had often made bold claims of my beauty stunning him…

…now, surprising him in an unexpected gown, I felt for the first time worthy of such a claim.

“Bethany,” he rose from his chair and held out his hand, “words…fail me.”

“As awkward as this moment is…that might be worth it.” I admitted. Jurgen urged me forward and I took Bastian’s hand. He drew me to the table, Armin getting up in haste to give up his seat. “Oh no, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Let him be a gentleman.” Bastian insisted so I thanked Armin before sitting down. “Alright everyone,” Bastian looked up, “back to your food.”

The feasting continued at a much more subdued level. I rested my hands in my lap, wishing I’d thought to eat my second last muesli bar. I couldn’t stomach raw meat.

“One of these days, Jurgen is going to have to tell me who his tailor is.” Bastian winked. “You are stunning, Bethany.”

“It’s the dress.” I tried to insist.

“Oh no,” he leaned forward and my lungs filled with heat, “it isn’t…” I could feel my blush rising. Bastian cleared his throat and stood up. “I have something for you which I think you will like.”

He moved away, giving me some blessed room to recover from my blush. I glanced around the room and spied Dietrich and Christel speaking, their eyes sharpened into rapiers and pointed at me. It was hard not to run away from them. Thankfully Bastian returned with a wooden tray and a cloth over the top.

“Ta da!” He said, drawing the cloth away, revealing a pile of the most beautifully red and lustrous strawberries I had ever seen.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, forgetting that I was trying not to draw any more attention to myself. “Strawberries!”

“I found them when I went out for my dip in the river and carried them back in my arms.”

“Could you make it sound any more dramatic?” I laughed. “Thank you, Bastian. They look beautiful.” I picked one up and bit into it, feeling sweet, juicy flesh being crushed beneath my teeth. “They’re amazing. Try one.”

“Oh no, I picked them for you.”

“Please…” I insisted and he took one reluctantly. Then I caught Armin’s eye. “Would you like to try?”

“It might look like meat,” he said with folded arms, “but it doesn’t smell right.”

“Come on,” I jiggled it in front of him, “just one little bite. One little teeny, tiny…harmless bite…”

Armin sighed and held out his hand, popping the strawberry straight into his mouth. For a moment I thought I saw revelation and surprise in his eyes but, seeing how everyone was staring at him, he cleared his throat and pretended to cough.

“It’s alright…for rabbits…”

I ate a few strawberries and drank some water, avoiding the mead. I was just starting to feel safe, like I was holding my own in a werewolf feasting hall, when I heard arguing down the end of the table. It was enough to get all of our attentions, Bastian standing up. I craned my neck and saw Dietrich arguing with two other members of the militia.

“Speak!” Bastian roared to get their attention.

“Dietrich wants to challenge you again.”

“A full moon as not passed yet.”

“You are not worthy to be alpha!” Dietrich snarled. “Look at yourself, falling over yourself at the feet of a human like a cub pissing itself in pleasure. You’re a disgrace! And now you have others falling for her as well! The Wolfgang clan should not be ruled by a human and her werewolf lover!”

“You forget your place,” Bastian said, raising himself to his full height, “and you disrespect my guest.”

“See!” Dietrich cried, his younger voice carrying due to the silence in the hall. “He doesn’t deny it! Is this weak human to be our alpha’s mate? Are we to be thus polluted? Our alpha won’t even honour the call of the conclave! Even now it meets and yet shuns the gathering of other werewolves for the sake of these…humans!”

“Knock it off, Dietrich.” Armin barked. “Regardless of the degree of your ire, you cannot challenge Bastian again until after Her Majesty’s fullness has passed over.”

“I can.” Christel stood up. “I can issue forth a challenge.”

She stepped out from the table, her eyes glaring at Bastian.

“You’re going to fight me for control of the Wolfgang clan?” Bastian said darkly at her.

“No,” Christel smiled, her pointed teeth showing, “I am challenging her.”

And to my horror, her finger was pointed at me.