Rimwick

The Big Bad Wolf

Hi again! It's me, the author:)... not sure who else it would be. Just so you know, I respond to comments and messages, even if they're in German. (I will be extremely impressed if they're in German.) Thanks for reading!

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Someone is licking my face.

Something, actually, that is in fact Roman. I open my eyes, blinking away bright spots that stunned my vision. I'm lying in the powdery snow that cushioned my fall. Branches above me sway gently, spilling soft snowflakes onto my nose and cheeks.

"I'm really getting sick of landing on the ground," I mutter. I think of something, remembering the nouns I made visible earlier, and say, "Warmth." Bright orange letters appear in the air, flickering like the flame of a fire. I reach out my numb fingers and touch the word, and a flash of comfortable heat travels up my arm into my chest. It lasts about two seconds, and then it's gone, leaving me shivering in the cold that suddenly seems more intense.

"What was that? The weird thing with the tree and the wind and the words? Did you see... I mean..." My voice trails off. Of course, Roman the Wolf doesn't answer.

Shakily, I rise to my feet, reminding myself that it's just more magic. I've seen plenty already. We have to get back to the color hunt.

"Do you know where more ribbons are?" I ask Roman. He bends his massive head in answer and leads me onwards, our path twining through the hills. We gather more strings that Roman takes in his mouth, plucking them from on top of boulders and untwisting them from damp branches. I'm so tired. None of the trees cause windy storms or glowing words, and the task becomes mundane.

When the stars start to fade from the violet sky, I realize that we've wound our way back to the clearing the hunt started in. Roman breaks away from me and rushes into the woods as dawn spreads in curling vines of light across the sky.

"He doesn't like changing in front of people," Echo says. "Probably because he comes out naked."

I jump about twelve feet into the air. "Echo! I didn't see you!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." The blue glow of her eyes is slowly growing dimmer. "How many ribbons did you get?"

"Eight, I think. You?" The word eight is scrawled as if by a child, it's letters formed in ragged yellow lines. But by the word you, I'm speaking normally, with no visible letters appearing.

"Six. The sun's up."

Echo's eyes have now completely reverted to their normal brown. The other Dusk Children have gathered and we meet in the middle of the clearing as Master Atlas appears. His massive stature silences the chatter the filled the air, and the light from his torch, instead of illuminating the dawn, seems to darken it.

"It is time," he rumbles in his low voice. "What have you brought me?"

"I have brought seven ribbons, Master," Felix says, placing his tattered strings reverently in Atlas's outstretched palm.

"I have brought six." Echo copies the motion.

"Seven," Brooke says, flouncing across the clearing on her delicate, now solidified legs.

"I have nothing." Anvil mutters, looking at the ground. No one attempts to make eye contact with him.

"And Fallon?" Master Atlas asks.

"Three." She places them in his palm as if daring anyone to think she's embarrassed by the low number.

Something isn't right here. Fallon, who carries a quiver of arrows and catches rucksacks full of game, only found three ribbons? I'd expected her to get the most. And how did her brother find nothing?