“So,” said Robert, “you’re a werewolf?” It was all he could think of to say.
The Historian fixed his old eye, the good one, on Robert in much the same way that a lion fixes its gaze on a three-legged, blind, deaf gazelle with a bell around its neck.
“Well,” continued Robert, “it’s just that I’ve never met a werewolf before today, you see. And, uhh…” The Historian’s stare was getting to him. “Are you going to blink anytime soon?”
“Probably best not to provoke the creature responsible for a great many deaths,” said the voice in Robert’s head.
“Right,” said Robert.
The Historian looked from Robert to Lily and his face broke in a whimsical smile.
“He doesn’t know, does he, Lily?” growled the Historian.
“Know what?” asked Robert.
Lily turned to Robert and there were actually tears in those amber eyes. Although he didn’t know why she was so upset, Robert felt a rush of anger that something had dared upset her like this.
“Amber eyes,” said the voice in Robert’s head.
“Amber eyes,” said Robert out loud.
Lily closed her eyes, and then opened them again.
“I don’t underst―”
“They both have amber eyes,” said the voice.
“Oh,” said Robert. “Oh shit, you’re a werewolf too.”
As if it was the simplest statement in the world. He turned to the Historian. “Bloody hell, you’re not her dad, are you?”
The Historian laughed and the sound of it bounced around the chamber. The firelight flickered, casting his shadow against the far wall and for a moment, Robert thought he saw his true shape silhouetted there.
Lily took both of Robert’s hands in hers.
“This isn’t easy for me to talk about.” Lily’s eyes were moist as she looked past Robert into the fire.
He felt a pang of sadness override the anger. Then he realized he was holding hands with a werewolf. Then he realized that he was currently sitting in a room with two werewolves.
“You’re over-thinking this,” said the voice in Robert’s head.
Lily seemed to collect herself, and shifted her gaze to Robert.
“I was born to a family of Lords over three hundred years ago. My father’s name was Randolph Redcloak. He owned a great amount of farmland along the Southern edge of the Enchanted Forest. When I was twenty years old, I spent the summer at my grandmother’s estate not far north of here. I spent the summer hunting and fishing, learning how to run the family business, and enjoying the time with my grandmother. At the end of summer, I set out with two friends to hunt for Jingraz, a sort of deer, but the day drew to an end far too quickly. It was a horrible day of hunting, we didn’t catch anything, and it wasn’t until we were a couple of miles from home that we realized why we hadn’t caught anything. We came across a field filled with half-eaten Jingraz. And at the centre of the field sat a giant, wolf-like creature.”
Lily glanced at the Historian, whose face was unreadable. “The creature attacked us, violently, and killed my two companions before we even had a chance to run. I was carrying my father’s hunting blade and it was pure luck that saved my life that night.”
The Historian snorted.
“The creature stood over me while I sobbed and struggled. Blood dripped from its jaws and its amber eyes shone in the moonlight. It sank its teeth into my shoulder and it felt like it would tear me in two, so I lashed out with the blade, a silver blade, giving him the scar he now wears so proudly. I ran like I’d never run before but the change was already upon me. It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before and I stood and screamed. But all I heard was a howl.”
“Lily, I don’t know what to say.”
“I change with the moon, and at will, if I so choose. I can heal from any injury but silver, and you’ve seen how strong this curse has made me.”
“It’s not a damn curse, you ungrateful whelp,” growled the Historian. “What I gave you was a gift.”
“You would’ve murdered me!”
“That’s why you joined the hunting party to cross over to Othaside to catch the Beast of Gévaudan,” said Robert.
“Because he infected me, we were… are… commonly bound. Even when we’re miles apart, we can still sense each other. I can smell him infinitely clearer than anything else. I was the best person to hunt him down.”
“I don’t think your sense of smell is that good, my dear Lillian,” said the Historian. “If it was, you’d be able to smell the distinct feline scent on your companion.”
Lily looked at Robert, who felt embarrassed although he couldn’t figure out why.
“You can smell the cat on me?”
“It’s as plain as day.”
“But there was no cat,” said Lily. “It was all in Robert’s head.”
“I highly doubt that,” said the Historian.
“I knew it was real!” said Robert.
“No you didn’t,” said the voice.
“Well, I did start to question myself after none of you believed me,” agreed Robert.
The Pixie was suddenly hovering in between them, holding a massively thick book with the name Rumpelstiltskin inscribed in gold on the black leather cover.
“Ah, good,” said the Historian and pointed to one of the large reading tables. The Pixie flew over to the table and dropped the book with a thud. The Historian was already making his way over to the table, as if the conversation regarding his murderous intentions and consequential infection of Lily was over. But Robert couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Lily was still looking at Robert, maybe trying to gauge his reaction.
“I’m sorry, Robert; as my travelling companion, you should have known. I endangered you. Are you… okay?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose. It’s just another weird thing to get used to really. How come you couldn’t smell the cat on me?”
“Oh sure, completely ignore her inner turmoil and focus on your own preservation of sanity. She’s not going to like that you’re not being sensitive,” said the voice in Robert’s head.
“I think it’s because I’ve been with you the whole time, I’m somewhat desensitized to your scent. Thank you for understanding.”
“Or maybe not,” said the voice.
“Uh yeah, no problem. Not like we can change it, I suppose.”
The Historian coughed loudly. “If you two are finished being ridiculous maybe you’d like to tell me what it is you’re looking for?”
There it was again! As Lily moved over to the table along with Robert, she felt the same wave of admiration for her new travelling companion. It was warm and fuzzy and entirely unfamiliar to her. He didn’t seem to mind that she had a vicious killing machine hidden inside of her. Over the years, Lily had confided in very few people. Those who knew her secret had never acted the same around her again. Robert didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t help but find that an admirable trait.
Outside the castle, General Gnarly and Gnick sat with their backs against the castle wall. They were making themselves look busy and keeping the Pixies at bay by sharpening various pointy kinds of weaponry.
The Pixies hovered above the castle wall, staring down at the Gnomes and chattering amongst themselves. Pixies hated Gnomes and Gnomes hated Pixies. This point was proven when a brave Pixie had chosen to spit on General Gnarly. The spit had barely touched his red pointy hat when he’d flung a blade, cleaving the Pixie’s wings from its back and causing it to plummet to Earth. Pixies, being the cannibalistic carnivores that they were, swooped down to tear the injured creature to shreds. After that, the Pixies kept out of what they hoped was throwing distance.