Riley

 

“Jack! Leave the Puss alone!” Dang this rollicking Wolf. Dr. Jekyll’s serum really did what it promised. I rub my hands over my face and cut a helpless glance at the sky. If one whelp is this much work, now I understand why Mother Goat always looks so exhausted when she takes her seven kids to town.

As the cat screeches cease in the distance, I believe Jack chased the poor guy up a tree. Thank the fairies wolves can’t climb that well. Continuing on my way to Granny, I put my fingers between my lips and whistle sharply. “Jack! Come here, boy!”

After the next two whistles, the stray puppy finally emerges from the dark side of the forest, ambling toward me across the wood anemone with his nose in the flowers as if he needs to sniff his way back to me. “Did you give the poor cat a heart attack?” I ask dispraisingly, folding my arms over my chest when he comes to a halt in front of my feet.

The Wolf pulls in his lolling tongue, and I swear his flews lift in a smirk.

“Instead of chasing clueless Fairyland inhabitants, you should try to change back before the Huntsman comes after you.”

The sandalwood-colored fur on his forehead crinkles in an uneasy frown. Through pursed lips, he lets out a yip. Then he squeezes his eyes closed and flattens his ears. I’m waiting for the big pop, but still, nothing happens. We both sigh, and he hangs his head in defeat.

“Nah, don’t worry,” I tell him and rub behind his ear because I know it’ll lift his mood again. “In a few hours, the spell should be over anyway. Do you know what the doctor also said while you were zonked out?” I start walking again. Jack curiously lifts his muzzle to me. “He’s confident the serum will affect you for quite a while. Like two weeks or something. Maybe even through the entire month. Which means, you won’t be troubled by the pull of the story any longer.”

At that news, he perks his ears. The hopeful gleam in his eyes is cute.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” I move in front of the Wolf, taking a few steps backward, and smile down at him. “In that time, I’m sure to find Prince Right For Me, we’ll fall in love with each other, and once the story of Red Riding Hood is—” I hesitate and then start whispering, “B-R-O…” Warily, I quirk my eyebrows and finish my incomplete spelling by breaking an imaginary stick with my hands. “Then you won’t feel any kind of calling ever again and won’t have to lock yourself in other people’s dungeons anymore.”

It’s too risky to really speak the sentence out loud. There’s only one way to get out of a story, and that is by saying the words: “I’m breaking from my tale.” Nobody really knows what happens to Fairyland residents who have no story to tell anymore. But rumor has it, there’s a group of breakers dwelling on the outskirts of Oz. According to the Scarecrow, they have no home, no jobs, nothing to do or care about. Must be quite a dreary life.

Of course, that fate isn’t awaiting Jack, no matter how panicky he stares at my hands currently. Once I have my prince, we’ll find Jack a beautiful princess, too. New stories—happy endings.

Granny’s house is around the next bend. Mother Holle steps out through the small gate in the low, coffee-brown picket fence, beaming when she lifts her head and spots us. The rotund woman wearing a white apron over her dark-blue dress is one of my grandmother’s best friends. She always braids her brown hair up in two circlets over her ears. Her chubby cheeks dent as she takes my chin in her hand with a smile. “Good morning, dear child. Your grandma will be so happy to see you. She’s been worried sick the past couple of days.”

“Um…yes. Another adventure came in between.” I scrunch my face. “Is she okay? I mean, she didn’t turn into a…er…”

“Vindictive witch because you two didn’t come to play?” Mother Holle finishes my sentence.

“Yeah, something like that.”

She laughs and pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I think your grandma actually enjoyed the vacations.”

Oh. That’s good. I nod. She acknowledges Jack with a tilt of her head, and we both stand there for a moment, watching the fine trail of snow falling in her wake as she leaves. I wonder how she does that.

When a cold snout nudges my hand, I emerge from my daze and let Jack through the fence gate. Before we even knock, Granny opens the door. She must have seen us coming through the window. A warm smile on her face, she welcomes us with a hug for me and a skeptical frown for Jack.

We see each other so often, I barely ever come to visit between the tales. With Jack Wolf at my side, it must look rather odd to her.

“Since you’re not alone, I believe this isn’t an official visit?” she asks, raising one graying eyebrow.

“No, Granny, it’s not.” I push my hood down and take a seat at the kitchen table. Inside, her little house looks a lot like mine. All wooden walls and cozy ambiance. I’ve always loved coming here.

Completely different from Mother Holle, my grandmother has the petite proportions of an imp rather than a teapot. She barely reaches my height, which is a shame because I’m already not the tallest girl on the block. But she probably doesn’t mind. What she lacks in stature, she makes up for with her loving personality and humor.

“Now, tell me what kept you two away from my house for so long,” she demands, placing a cup of raspberry juice in front of me and a bowl of water on the floor for the Wolf, who sits down and gives her a wary furry frown.

She rubs his head before tightening the cord of her pink terry robe and lowering into a chair across from me. Her elbows braced on the table, she plants her chin in her cupped hands, waiting curiously for me to fill her in.

I brief her about my intentions to find a prince and the weird adventures the past couple of days held for Jack and me. When she hears about the mishap with King Arthur, she almost falls off the chair from her laughter. “You really tried to shoot him out of his story? With an arrow of love?” Her salt-and-pepper hair fans out around her head on the table when she drops her forehead to her arms, sheepishly hiding her red face from me.

“All right, you can stop laughing now, Granny,” I grumble.

Half a minute passes before she gets a grip again. She rises and walks to the cupboards, shaking her head at Jack with a reprimanding smile. “And you let her do that? A fine Wolf you are.” Opening the fridge, she throws a quick glance back at me. “Are you hungry? I’m going to make soup and roast chicken for lunch. Jack looks like he’s starving.”

The sound of a decent meal makes my stomach skip with joy, so I nod, and Jack’s tail starts drumming an excited tune on the floor.

“You know, the night after our encounter with King Arthur, Jack got into real trouble,” I continue. “The call of the wood seems to be harder on him with his wolf half than it is with me.” Taking a sip of my juice, I study Granny with a curious look. “Mother Holle said that you enjoyed your time off. So didn’t you feel the pull of the tale at all?”

Giggling, she takes some veggies from a rack and gets out a big pot to put them in. “Oh, I felt it, indeed. But it was more like a funny tickle in my toes.” Her puffy, pink slippers waggle. “Nothing to worry about. To be frank, I was hoping that maybe you two might like to pause the tale a little longer. When you didn’t come and sent the stork to me with your message, I told Roland, and he decided to go on a cruise aboard the Nautilus.”

“The Huntsman is on vacation?”

“Yes. He left last night. They’re going to visit Poseidon in Atlantis, too. The journey will probably take a couple of days. I was thinking, maybe I could visit my cousin Wilma in Bedrock in the meantime.”

“What a lovely idea!” I set my glass on the table and rise. From the corner drawer, I grab a vegetable peeler and head to the sink with the square window above. Red-and-white-plaid curtains are drawn back, letting in the noon sunlight. On the draining board, I find some carrots and start peeling them for the soup. “It must be a while since you’ve last been there.”

“True. You two have been keeping me on my toes.” She snickers behind me. “Wilma has been writing and asking for me to come for years. Traveling isn’t so easy for her with the baby and the dinosaur, as you know. And then they only have this funny foot-work car. I can’t wait to get into—” She goes abruptly quiet.

“Get into what?” I chuckle. But there’s no answer. A half-peeled carrot in my hand, I turn around. My smile fades. “Granny?”

The spot where she stood only moments ago is empty except for her fluffy pink slippers. My gaze drops to the Wolf sitting beside them. The happy spark in his dark eyes makes me nervous. “Jaaack?”

Innocently, he lifts his brows.

Cocking my head, I glare at him. “Did you eat my granny?”

He shakes his head so fast, it’s a miracle he doesn’t get dizzy from it. He can go play the sweet puppy dog for someone else today. The bulges in his belly convict him.

“Dang it, Jack, you heard what she said! The Huntsman is gone for several days. There’s no one here to cut her out now.” Grimly, I point the carrot at him. “How could you?!”

When he pulls a dog pout, I toss the veggie into the sink and grab Granny’s wooden spoon instead. The part when Roland pulls out his knife and slices the Wolf’s stomach still gives me chills even after living through it thousands of times. I’m certainly not going to grab a knife and do the same to save my granny.

But she must come out of there somehow.

“Open your mouth,” I command, locking gazes with Jack.

Instantly, he backs away into the corner of cupboards, looking at me as if I’m the Grinch taking all his Christmas presents away. A small, helpless moue seals his lips shut.

I don’t have time for this. And Granny doesn’t either. “You asked for it, puppy dog.” Grabbing his snout, I push my fingers and thumb into his flews until his jaws unclamp. Jack rears back with all four legs, his claws scraping on the floor, but it won’t help him. As soon as there’s just a tiny crack between his lips, I stuff the back end of the wooden spoon through and poke it deep down his gorge.

His eyes fly open so wide that a squirrel ogles them for a potential new home from outside the window. At the same time, he begins to gag and heave. Good. I poke harder. In a wild panic, he paws at me, but I’m not going anywhere before he throws up my gran.

When his eyes glaze over like dark crystals, and his throat works frantically, I pull out the spoon and jump back. His entire body jerks, his muscles contracting violently. He coughs and huffs for long seconds. Finally, poor Granny hurtles out of his mouth on a slide of saliva, landing on her butt on the floor. She wipes her icky-wet strands of hair away from her beaming face. “Wow! What a ride!”

I want to rush to her aid, but Jack’s continued convulsive choking holds me back. He shudders and spits out a ball of buff fur right into Granny’s lap. As the salivated little lump of fluff unfurls into a cat with boots, a vest, and a hat, my chin smacks my chest.

“What have you done?” a hoarse whisper escapes me. But the first round of ranting goes to the Puss in Boots.

“How dare you eat me, you stupid, fat dog?” he blusters in a foreign accent, climbing off my Granny and shaking the spittle from his fur. “Did your mama not teach you respect?” Furious, he stalks up to Jack until they’re face-to-face. The nervous whimper can’t save the Wolf now. “I hope you caught the kitty flu. And fleas that will drive you crazy,” the Puss rages on, “by pinching and nipping you from the inside forever!” Filled with disgust, he lifts his arms. Wolf drool still drips from his hands. Yuck, I’m quite sure he doesn’t want to lick that dry.

He huffs at Jack one last time and, with a swift wipe of his paw, brings his claws across Jack’s face. The pained yowl makes me wince. Then the buff cat whips around on his heels and trudges out through the door. It slams shut behind him, but the ongoing scolding carries in through the windows until the Puss disappears into the forest.

Jack looks as if he just stepped off a spinning carousel. As I help my grandma up, I cut him a sharp scowl, even if the red streaks across his muzzle tear at my heartstrings. “Don’t look at me like that. You know you deserved it.”

A sad whine escapes him. He ducks his head and reels out of the kitchen, curling up in front of the couch.

“I better take a quick shower,” Granny says, still quite amused as she hurries into the bathroom. I take the time to wipe the dog drool from the floor with a wet mop. Nothing but trouble with this Wolf. Oh, by the fen fires, it’ll be such a blessing to have him back on two legs again.

After rinsing the drool off the mop and storing it away in the closet, I cut a glance to the living room. Mournful eyes glisten up from under the coffee table. The scratches on his face are gone. Wolves heal fast in Fairyland. And they need to since their stomachs are regularly cut open.

I snort at him and then return to peeling the veggies for lunch.

 

*

 

Three chimes from the grandfather clock in the living room tell us that it’s a quarter to noon. Granny and I are almost finished with lunch. I take two plates out of the cupboard to set the table. As I turn around, Jack leans in the doorway. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, hands in his pockets, chin bashfully lowered, and watching me from under his dark lashes.

For a split second, I halt in my tracks. A smile tugs the corners of my mouth up. Then I put the plates down and run to him, not stopping until my body crashes against his as I fling my arms around his neck. Standing on my toes, I whisper with relief into his ear, “Welcome back.”

Jack wraps his arms around me, rather loosely at first. But soon enough, a deep sigh escapes him, and the embrace tightens. I close my eyes. He pulls me hard against him and lowers his forehead to my shoulder.

“Tough day, hm?” I ask.

As if too ashamed to speak, he only nods into the crook of my neck.

“Ah, what have we here?” Granny cheers from the other side of the kitchen. “The swan turned back into the princess.”

Jack stiffens at the taunt, but I giggle anyway. Releasing me, he finally comes farther into the room. “Ma’am…” His voice raspy and shy, he still can’t seem to hold his head as high as he usually does. “Sorry for eating you.”

Yep, the past forty-eight hours put a dent in his ego. A deep one.

“Ah, don’t worry, my dear.” She pokes him in the side and snickers. “It was hardly the first time, now was it?”

He stares at her for a long moment, then he shakes his head as an embarrassed grin takes shape.

“Sit down.” I push him toward a chair before grabbing a third plate from the cupboard. “Lunch is ready. You must be hungry.”

Granny dishes out soup for all of us, and we partake of a delicious roast chicken with gravy and tiny potato dumplings. I only wish Jack wasn’t so pensive. He barely contributes to our conversation. Whenever I cast him a glance across the table, his guarded gaze is fixed on me as he silently chews chicken bits or spears chopped veggies with his fork.

“Is your friend always this quiet?” Granny voices my concern.

“Not quite so much,” I reply truthfully with a touch of longing for the good old times between Jack and me.

“You know,” she speaks to him now, “most of the time, I only get to see your big mouth and you from the inside. It’s nice to have the real you sitting at my table for once. Feeding you”—she grins—“with something other than myself.”

I nearly choke on my dumpling and look up just in time to see a tiny smile race across Jack’s face. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for Granny because she puts her knife and fork down and wipes her mouth with a linen napkin. “Hey, did I tell you kids that I was at P. Sherman’s dental surgery last week? He made me a set of false teeth.”

Now we both glance at her in confusion. This is odd. She still has all her good chompers. “What for?” Jack asks the question that’s on my tongue, too.

Mischief makes her green eyes gleam as she pokes her finger cheekily into his ribs and waggles her head like a daisy in the wind. “The better to eat you with, eh?”

Dropping the cutlery, I cover my mouth with my fist, trying not to spew veggies across the entire table from laughing. The smile on Jack’s face grows into a lovely chuckle. His eyes quickly dart to my side of the table before he lowers his gaze again and…holy howl of a werewolf, is that a blush on his cheeks?

It’s so cute, I can’t stop staring.

Of course, Jack notices it and presses his lips together in an embarrassed grin as his gaze finds me once more through those roguish strands of hair. Amazing. There seems to be so much more to this Wolf than I thought all these years.

I force myself to continue eating, but the sweet image will be forever burned into my memory.