“Mother have mercy!” shouts one of the bandits. He drops his weapons and bolts, climbing onto his horse and galloping away.
Once one breaks and runs, most of the others follow. They mount their horses. I chase after some, snapping at horse hooves, barking and snarling all the way. As soon as they see me, even more run, and soon it’s just the man in black holding his knife to Will’s throat.
Will rears back, smashing his skull against the man’s nose and throwing an elbow into his ribs. On instinct, the man in black grabs for his bloody nose, and lets Will wriggle away. I pounce the man in black and knock him to the ground. With two big paws on his chest, I pin him to the ground and lean down to growl. My boy leans in, an arrow pointed at the man in black’s nose.
His hands shoot up to cover his face. “All right! All right, already! I get it! You win. I lose. Now call off your hound!”
“Swear you’ll leave us alone!” My boy shouts.
When the man doesn’t reply right away, I move a paw to his throat. He makes a very satisfying choking sound before I let up.
“I swear to leave you be and let you go,” replies the man in black. “Just get this monstrous beast off my bloody chest!”
You should shoot him, I say to my boy.
Does he smell like a lie? Faelyn asks.
I sniff the air before huffing out a disappointed breath. No.
Faelyn hesitates only a moment, just long enough that I think he might let the arrow go. Instead, he takes a half step back. “Release him, Brick.”
With a frustrated snort, I back off and let the man rise.
He dusts off his black shirt. “You might have gotten lucky today, prince, but the Brotherhood has long memories and casts a long shadow. This isn’t—”
I interrupt his pointless speech by lifting a leg to pee on his foot. He shrieks like an offended eagle and scrambles away.
“You’re dead, you hear me?” he shouts, climbing onto his horse. “You and everyone you love.” He rides a circle around us shouting, “Trinta never forgets!” before galloping off.
Faelyn drops his bow and throws his arms around Will, squeezing him tight. “I thought I lost you.”
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Will quips and squeezes back.
They part and Faelyn drops to one knee, arms outstretched. “Come here, boy!”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Panting, I bound across the space between us and throw myself into his arms hard enough to knock him over. Laughing, he falls to his back, and I tackle him, licking his face. For a minute, I feel like a puppy again as we wrestle, and he’s back to being my boy. It doesn’t matter that we’ve gotten older, and things have changed. We’re still best friends, and nothing—not even time or whatever he has going on with Will—can change that.
My boy finally manages to get free, and I crash to the grass laying on my back, my tongue lolling out of the side of my mouth.
He lies panting in the grass next to me a moment before he says, “I’m sorry about earlier, Brick. You were just trying to play.”
It’s all right, my boy. I turn my head and look at him. We’re still best friends?
He smiles and pats my head. “Best friends forever.”
Will comes over and pulls Faelyn to his feet. With a serious voice he says, “We can’t keep doing this, Faelyn. You have to tell your father about us.”
The joy on my boy’s face lessens, but he’s not sad. The air smells more like worry.
“I know.”
“He’ll understand,” Will promises.
“But what if he doesn’t? It’s different when you’re a prince.” My boy picks up his discarded bow and picks some stray blades of grass from it. “And what about the Runecleavers? I’m promised to one of them.”
“It will all work out, Faelyn.” Will wraps his arm around Faelyn’s. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Faelyn sighs and looks down at me. I wag my tail, hoping it’s the reassuring gesture he’s looking for.
“No,” says my boy after a minute. “It might be easier for him if it’s just me. And if things don’t go well, I can always come find you.”
Will nods. They hug and kiss goodbye and then my boy gets back on Toffee, and we head for home.
Later that night, I lay on the rug in my boy’s room while he has a long, quiet talk with his father in the next room.
The king hugs my boy after, squeezing him tight. “If he makes you happy, then he’s welcome here, Faelyn. That’s all that matters to me. Will’s a good man. I’m glad you found someone worthy of your heart.”
There are more words, more hugs, and some tears, but when the elf king gets up to leave, my boy is smiling again, and it’s good to see. I’d trade all the ducks and fish and rabbits in the world to see him smiling.
I lift my head and wag my tail as the king comes past.
He stops to give me a few pets. “Take care of him, boy. He still needs you.”
I do my best! I say, but it comes out to him as a quiet, “Ruff!”
When the king is gone, and the lights are out, my boy pats an empty space on the bed and invites me up. It’s been a long time since he let me sleep in the bed with him, but we cuddle up that night, and when he’s fast asleep, I crawl down to my spot at the end of the bed to keep watch. I may be old, and my joints may be sore. I can’t run and play like I used to, but I can still sleep with one eye open, and protect my best friend while he sleeps.
I make a vow that night. Wherever I am, that will be his safe place. Whether it’s on the road, at the lake, or around the castle, I am my boy’s safe place, and that will always be true.
Eliza Eveland (she/they) is a coffee addict living in woods of West Virginia where fairies are real, and magic grows on trees like vines.
Eliza writes real, relatable characters in fantastic worlds that just happen to have wings or pointed ears and a little bit of magic.
Author website: https://elizaeveland.com/
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/616062436341571
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@elizaeveland
George and KitKit Save the Witches
By Faith Hunter[1]
KITKIT WATCHED HUMAN-WITCH-KITTEN CALLED Angie standing in open doorway. Angie-kit waved her hand in front of pride alphas, called the Mama and the Daddy. She pushed power-magic into the room where the Mama and the Daddy witches slept. Angie had much magic-power. It was in many shades of greens and yellows to KitKit’s eyes. Power was to make the Mama and the Daddy pride alphas sleep.
This was, “Not allowed,” according to the Mama. This was “Oh, Angie. I’m ashamed of you,” bad. This was the smell of an alpha swatting a kitten. Though the alphas were lax in using their claws, to KitKit’s way of thinking.
KitKit was the Mama’s familiar though the Mama did not understand or accept this. And because there were four witches in the den, and only one KitKit, she had to leave her alpha-witch and follow the little witch.
Angie was not silent like KitKit. Humans, even witch-humans, were noisy no matter how silent they tried to be.
KitKit followed, cat-silent. She sent ahead warning to George the Stupid-Dog. Angie is coming. Angie did bad thing.
KitKit had allowed George the Stupid-Dog to communicate head-to-head in the cat way. Cat familiars were not allowed to share with stupid dogs, but it had to be done to protect so many foolish human-witches.
Angie inched forward, around the reclining sofa, past the unlit Christmas tree and the wrapped boxes that KitKit had not been allowed to tear open and play with. KitKit smelled and saw George the Stupid-Dog and the smaller-male-human-witch-kit called EJ on the sofa. Both were awake in the dark.
1
Author’s Note: Based on