Sole Wolfess and Kid
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel and Walter Reimer

(The Sole Wolfess and Aedith ‘Sunny’ Winterbough are courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  marmelmm

Part Ten.



[Note appended to manuscript: “Stop that right now, Master.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Stop what, wolfess?’]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Stop gloating over your corruption of yet another poor youngster.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “No, I never gloat. Unless I'm making you paranoid. Then I gloat. Like I'm doing right now.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Of course you don’t.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “But if I WAS gloating, I’d be quick to tell you all about it. Gloat, gloat, gloat, gloat, GLOAT.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Oh, shaddapyermuzzle.”]

The Master, as you can probably guess, is a sports-mad fool who adores the game of post-ball. Of course, all of the roebucks in Elfhame are much the same way, and will make a sport of (and bet on) everything from whether a drunken ex-Prisoner can pat an Elfhamian ant (a notoriously cranky breed) on its arse and get away before the offended party can get its mandibles on the perpetrator’s trousers, to farting contests.

Aedith had apparently acquired her taste in post-ball from the Master’s halfwitted fawn, the Sixth of His Name.

Fortunately, she hasn’t lived as long as the Master, so her knowledge was rather limited. Olivia took advantage of the lull in the conversation by asking Aedith if she had any Abilities to go with her Talent. My daughter looked at me, and I nodded, watching with a smile as Aedith got out of her chair and moved a short distance away before forming a post-ball-sized globe of light between her paws.

Olivia clapped her paws and beckoned, and Aedith tossed the light-globe to the tigress, who caught it and tossed it back. The rest of us in the room watched this game of catch for a little while.

And NO, she did not use an overpaw outshot spin on her delivery.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Did I say she was a hurler? And, by the way . . . how do YOU know what an overpaw outshot spin is? Do you have a stash of chicle cards somewhere?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Of course I don’t have a stash of chicle cards. I have a collection of meat-chew cards, and I buy them for the meat-chews.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Suuuuuuuure you do.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: (growling)]

Councilor Furrow was very impressed with this performance, and even more so when both of them started rising up into the air after stepping into a shaft of sunlight. The mare glanced at me and said, “She is really quite remarkable, Sergeant. Are you planning on staying in Eastness, so that your daughter can be trained as a Priestess?”

I gave the question what appeared to be some thought, although I’d already considered it. Being able to think can do that for you. “No,” I said after a few moments. “My own childhood – well, I was thought ‘special,’ and therefore I didn’t have a childhood. Aedith, though, will have a happy childhood, with friends and fun and silly games like post-ball.”

The Guard frowned. “Post-ball isn’t silly,” the canine objected.

I ignored him. “If she can receive some instruction while we’re here, that’s fine. Once a regular route is established between Elfhame and Eastness, we can discuss it in greater detail.”

The Councilor nodded. “I understand, and I sympathize. I know I wouldn’t want any of my children taken away from me.”

“How many do you have?” I asked.

“Three,” she said proudly. “Two colts and a filly, and they’re all growing like weeds. Thanks to the Wolf Queen, they’ll thrive in the Brilliant Light.” She looked wistful for a moment before smiling. “It’ll take several days before we have the delegation put together – ooh, impressive,” and we all looked to see that Aedith had tossed the ball of light into the air, where it dissolved into a cascade of bright sparks that vanished as they descended.

I felt a very maternal surge of pride. Well, at least I think it was maternal.

[Note appended to manuscript: “It might have been something you ate.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “At least I’m not like one of your lot, who fart all the time.”]

“You were saying?” I asked.

“Hm? Oh! Oh yes. What I was going to say is that it’ll be several days before we have the delegation assembled and equipped, and we’d like you to tell us about what sort of Gates we’ll have to go through.”

I nodded. “I’ll be happy to.” And that got me thinking.

[Note appended to manuscript: “I thought I smelled smoke.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “At least when I think, furs can't tell what one had for lunch."]

When the Wolf Queen first journeyed to Eastness, it had taken about eight Gates and several days to get to the city. The route was getting shorter; only five Gates this time, and I wondered how many Gates we’d have to go through to return to Elfhame.

“Where will you be staying, Sergeant?” Councilor Furrow asked.

“I have enough funds to stay at an inn or hotel,” I replied. “As soon as I find one I will make sure you know, so you can contact me.” She smiled and nodded, and my gaze drifted back to Aedith.

My daughter was wearing traveling clothes, but if we were going to stay several days, she needed something a little nicer.

I smiled. I knew just the place – of course, finding it might be difficult, if the shop didn’t want to be found.


***


We took our leave of Olivia Rainwater, with an agreement to come back so that the Priestess of the Brilliant Light can teach Aedith a few things that she should know, we went out the back way to avoid the crowd of worshipers and parted company with Mrs. Furrow and the Guard. He had to make his report, and she had to let the rest of the Council know.

Which suited me just fine. It gave me and Aedith time to look around in hopes of finding DelFurrio’s Tailor Shop.

When Tali and I had gone looking for it last time, I had been able to find it right off. That surprised Tali a little, but if the building was acting in such an Elf-ly manner it made sense that an Elf could find it.

It wasn’t in the area where it had been on my previous trip, but it was a mild afternoon. No harm in walking.

“Is that it, Mommy?”

Sure enough, there it was, and Aedith had found it first. I gave her a happy nuzzle and praised her for being a smart and very Elf-ly young lady, and paw in paw we headed for the shop.

Interestingly, the adjoining store wasn’t there any longer. It was a vacant lot now, with a low mound of dirt dotted with bushes and swathes of grass. It seemed a little odd to me; if the store had gone out of business, why demolish it?

Aedith and I entered DelFurrio’s. I figured that I could ask one of them.

Lisbet Fjordsdottir was seated behind the counter, dressed in a blouse and skirt with an apron and reading a small book, and she looked up as the bell over the door tinkled merrily. The reindeer femme glanced up and smiled widely. “Hello! Welcome back, W – er, Missy,” she amended before I could stop and correct her. She set her book aside and stood, catching sight of Aedith.

Despite my ears going flat, her squee still echoed in my head.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Well, vast empty space, of course there’ll be an echo.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

Lisbet caught her breath and called out, “Dorotea! Come out front!” The anteater, similarly dressed, duly did so, and the reindeer pointed at Aedith.

Two squees made my teeth ache, and Aedith gave a soft howl of distress. Seeing us cringe, the two femmes shut up.

“Sorry,” Dorotea said softly. Lisbet nodded, and the anteater femme asked, “How can we help you?”

I managed to smile despite my ringing ears and said, “I would like you two to come up with – a pair of dresses for my daughter.” Aedith looked up at me, her ears swiveling and a huge smile on her face, and I added, “One for everyday wear, and another for parties and things like that.”

Freyasdottir nodded and came out from around the counter, then crouched down to face Aedith on more equal terms. “Hello,” she said in a pleasant tone and with a smile on her muzzle. “My name’s Lisbet.”

“I’m Aedith.”

“You’re very pretty,” and the reindeer fished a measuring tape out of a pocket in her apron. “How about I get your measurements, and after that you pick out a color you like?” My little girl nodded happily and giggled as the reindeer started to measure her and make notes on a small notepad.

Dorotea and I watched this, and I asked her, “What happened next door?”

The anteater rolled her eyes and replied, “They fell into a gap.”

I blinked. “A – A Gap?! Here?”

Suddenly realizing what she’d said, Dorotea raised both paws about chest-height and waved them. “No no no! Not a Gap; a gap.”

“A gap?”

She nodded. “They were trying to expand their basement, and one of them decided to try using Gramerye. The poor guy didn’t get it right, and the entire building collapsed into the hole. It was easier for the city to just shovel dirt over it.”

“Phew. You had me worried there,” and I wondered if Tali had sent in her report to her ‘Headquarters’ yet.

“It’ll take a day or so to get the dresses done,” the anteater pointed out. “Do you need a place to stay?” Her bushy tail gestured at the door leading to the rear of the shop.

I thought about it, and just as quickly dismissed it. I had money for an inn, the State Council would want to find me easily – and I wanted Aedith to learn Gramerye. The technology that Tali and her people use may seem like magic, but it was peculiar to them. Some devices and other paw-made items may be useful, but an Elf’s paws and magic can do wonderful things.

“Mommy?” Aedith asked, and giggled as Lisbet took down another measurement.

“Yes?”

“Can we go see a post-ball game?”

[Note appended to manuscript: “HAH!”]

(Note appended to manuscript: “Haven’t I already told you to shaddap?”)





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