The Woods-Wanderer

Chapter 5

As fantastic as Grandmother's cottage was, Ilya knew she couldn't stay there for long. The truce between Truss and Gallyn wavered more with each day that passed. She had to find a way to get to the Trussian palace– and fast. Grandmother's healing draught had worked wonders, but no potion could give her the strength to walk to Truss. It was a three-day journey by carriage– at least a week on foot, assuming she wasn't attacked by woodsmen or eaten by a lorry.

Ilya pouted for a good half hour before Grandmother called her to the kitchen. The elderly wolf sat a bowl of stew in front of her. Ilya smiled gratefully and began gulping it down.

"So," Grandmother said casually, using the hem of her apron to wipe off the table. "It's come to my attention that you wish to leave." Ilya choked, gagging on her stew. Spluttering, she coughed until she could speak.

"No! I never want to leave. But I must. The fate of my country rests in my hands." Grandmother raised a furry eyebrow.

"That is a rather large responsibility for a mere girl." Ilya straightened.

"I'm seventeen. Marriageable age. It's my duty to marry a Trussian prince to keep the peace." Grandmother looked skeptical, but thoughtful.

"And you must reach Truss soon, or war will break out. Hmmm." Rosy bounced into the room, grinning.

"Grandmother," she exclaimed, breathless, "Zale made me a skipping rope. I skipped a hundred times without falling!" The aged wolf smiled absentmindedly.

"Very nice, dear." Then she stood still for a moment, staring off into the distance.

"Grandmother?" Ilya asked cautiously. The wolf snapped from her reverie.

"I'm sorry, dear. Sometimes I... see things." She clapped her paws together. "Now. You must be on your journey by noontime, so pack your trunk and I will ready a traveling bag. Go, go!" Ilya jumped from her seat and ran into the tiny bedroom where she had been sleeping. Hurriedly tossing clothes into her trunk, her hands happened across a new fabric. It was silky and thick, almost cold. She pulled from the trunk an indigo cloak, so dark it was almost black. Like a strip of night torn from the sky. Ilya ran her fingers along the length of it. She certainly hadn't packed it. Had Mother? Laureline couldn't have kept a secret like this, so it hadn't been her. It was beautiful. Ilya hung it around her shoulders and fastened it at the neck with a pin made of blue jade. Grandmother came bustling into the room, a pack in her paws.

"Now, you must be–" she stopped when she saw Ilya. "Ilya? Is that you?" Fear and apprehension laced her aged features. Ilya tilted her head, confused.

"Yes. Who else would it be?" Grandmother took a deep breath and turned Ilya toward a looking glass in the corner. Ilya gasped.

It was her still, but not. Staring back at her in the mirror was a shadow, a grey replica of Ilya's shape and size. Ilya swallowed a scream.

"What am I?" she said, fighting panic. Grandmother's brow creased in concentration, her paws feeling at the cloak's fabric. Suddenly she laughed.

"It's not you, dear. It's the cape. It's made of styxsilk."

"What's that?" Ilya said, fear falling from her voice.

"Command it to return to your true form." Ilya did so, and her brown hair and skin reappeared. She exhaled in relief. "It will take on the form of anyone you command it to. It took on the shadow because you had not commanded it yet. It's a very perceptive fabric, styxsilk. Wear it with care." Ilya nodded, relishing in the sight of her own familiar features. Grandmother handed her a traveling pack.

"Don't open it yet," the wolf ordered. "Inside you'll find enough food and water to last you six days, if you eat little. Also inside is a small portion of my healing draught. Spend it wisely, for there is only enough to be used once." Ilya nodded.

"Thank you, Grandmother. You have given me so much already. I cannot thank you enough." Grandmother smiled wryly.

"I am not finished giving." Ilya frowned, confused.

Grandmother whistled. Oh, no. She wouldn't. Zale came bounding in the door, panting hard.

"Zale, you are to accompany Ilya on her journey to the Trussian palace and ensure no harm comes to her." Zale made two hard, barking noises and growled a little, but was silent under Grandmother's glare.

"Oh, no, that really isn't necess–" Ilya began, but Grandmother waved her off.

"You are going. He is going with you. End of story. Now go– we are losing the day." She shoved them out the door with surprising strength.

"Goodbye!" Ilya called, waving to the kindhearted wolf. She waved a paw back at them. Zale whimpered a little as he hefted Ilya's trunk onto one shoulder. Ilya hadn't considered the fact that he might be sad about leaving his home. She shoved those thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand– walking to Truss. They trudged silently through the gloomy woods for hours. The quiet was torturing Ilya. Were they just going to say nothing the whole time? He couldn't even talk. Was she not supposed to talk? How were they supposed to communicate? Her head whirling with questions, she overlooked the root in her path and tripped. She landed in the dirt, twisted awkwardly. Zale laughed his barking laugh and kept on walking. Ilya scoffed from the ground.

"How gallant," she spat, brushing dirt and pebbles from her knees. "How could I ever worry about my safety with you here? I feel so cared for." Zale shot her a dirty look and she smirked, knowing he could say nothing. "Does it bother you, being unable to speak? Knowing that I can talk and talk and talk–" the wolf spun on her and bared his teeth, growling menacingly.

"Okay okay point taken," Ilya said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. Zale turned back towards the path and they walked on in silence.

After a few minutes, Ilya heard a quiet, gravelly voice say,

"What makes you think I can't talk?"

"WHAT?!" Rage and shock overwhelmed her, and with absolutely no forethought, Ilya tackled the six-foot-wolf with everything in her. Zale easily pinned her to the ground, picked her up, and sat her upright. "You-you ogre!" Ilya shouted, her voice ripping through the quietness of the woods. "You let me go on and on, never stopping me, making me look like an idiot!"

"You were doing that all by yourself," the wolf said coolly. Ilya ground her teeth and reminded herself that physical violence would get her nowhere.

"Well, you weren't exactly a gentleman," Ilya said hotly. "What was to keep me from thinking you couldn't speak?" Zale glared at her, knowing full well that he couldn't argue.

"Well, at least I have my dignity intact," he retorted, hints of a growl creeping into his voice. "At least I can walk ten feet without falling."

"AT LEAST I HAVE FEET!" Ilya screamed. "Why are you even here? Just go back to the cottage and I can figure it out myself!"

"You think I don't want to?" Zale barked.

"Then why don't you?!"

"Because Grandmother would skin me alive, burn my corpse, and dance on my bones!" he roared. Ilya swallowed a laugh.

"She would." Zale didn't reply, but the corners of his mouth curled upward in an almost-smile. There was no more talking for a while after, but it was almost a companionable silence.