Tales of the Big Bad Wolf: The Red Riding Hood Arc (A Fairy Tale)

Chapter 21, Part D: Ten Steps Forward (cont.)

Hello folks! On the off chance that any of you are heading to A-Kon in Dallas Texas, I'll be there June 1-3 in the Artist Alley, Island E-6. Free bookmarks to any who stop by :).  

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Hastings avoided looking him straight in the eye as he continued to undress.  Maximilian knew it had nothing to do with the sight of scars upon his master’s form, but signaled some discomfort on his part with his decision. 

The Count understood.  His manservant was a caring sort of human, much like Maximilian’s own mother.  However, he could little afford to be like her when it came to presenting himself to other Wolframs.  Nostalgia and softheartedness could get one killed.  Nor could he be like his grandfather, whimsical and given over to fits of sentimentality.   

This eclipse, Wolframs would come to watch him instead.  He, as the one who wielded the symbolic scepter, would make decisions for them in this strange time to come.  How well he fared when the danger passed would depend on how solidly he behaved now.

So while Hastings could afford to openly mourn the woman who had once resided here, he would not.  To appear to cling to mementos of someone who affronted the current lord seemed foolish.

However his memories, unlike the things she had left behind, would not be so easy to cast off.  In spite of how much he tried, he would think of her as he, too, began to sleep. 

Mischief took form of one stone creature pounding across the snow, its legs pumping quickly as it flew through trees that lined the Great Highway.   The lion followed the road, propelled by a sense of boredom and by its pack mate’s account of a woman with a magical touch and an ability to speak to their kind.

While the creature prowled the woods, it did not notice a small owl flying and twirling around behind it. It had no reason to pay the bird heed; this owl was a rather ordinary sort often seen in these parts. Furthermore it had no magic gifts of note.

But the flighty creature was well-trained and gifted with a good memory. Its sharp eyesight allowed it to move nimbly around in the darkness, avoiding the blackbirds that slept during the night hours in these trees.  It would not dare go near them for there was no friendship between their kind.

The owl came to rest in a tree just as the lion itself abruptly halted at the sight of a fresh trail.  With a lack of finesse the stone beast walked all over the inconsistent prints on the ground, trying to follow them as they meandered towards a familiar home.

A sudden slice of the air forced the lion to turn back.

The bird, hidden away in the treetops above, fluttered its wings nervously as it watched the scene below.

Invisible just moments before, a soft aura of magic illuminated a tall figure dressed to match the snow.  In low tones, a woman spoke sternly to the stone lion.  "Didn't your friend tell you not to bother the boy?"

If the owl had expected a bloodbath, it had anticipated incorrectly.  Both owl and lion were aware of that the lady had not meant to harm the other creature. Had she, that snakelike line of magic would have hit the lion easily.  Still, the lion’s tail waved uneasily as it glanced to its side to observe the melted snow.

“I came to see if it was true," the lion turned its head back and whined like a petulant child. 

“If what is true,” came the respond, brisk and cold as the winter itself.

The tail began to wave excitedly.  "To see the pale lady with magic who can speak with all things that are magic. To ask.”

She sighed, evidently displeased by the turn of events.  “I did not think your friend would be so unreliable as to break his word. He was not supposed to speak of our meeting.  I should have sealed his mouth—“