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 Six.


[Note appended to manuscript: “Was anyone hurt trying to catch the flying children?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Mostly it was hurt pride, although there were some bumps and bruises. I was worried about Kung, though.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Oh?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Yes. I thought he might hurt himself laughing.”]

One by one, eventually the children settled back to the ground, with Aedith being the last one to land. As soon as the maids were assured that none of their charges were harmed, they saw the comedy in it, and where they had formerly been rushing about nearly at their wits’ end with worry, they now laughed and chattered among themselves as the children told them all about how it felt to fly.

Sunny scampered into my arms as I knelt and she said excitedly, “Mommy! Mommy! Did you see?”

“Yes, I did,” and I nuzzled my clever little girl. The children had apparently promised to behave, as they resumed playing, and Aedith ran off to join them. She started teaching them a game I’d seen her and the other children in Elfhame called ‘King Upon the Mountain,’ and after a few tries they all seemed to get into the spirit of the thing.

Play took most of the morning, and after a break for lunch, all of the children were guided into a hall by an elderly feline femme for music practice. No baglutes were to be seen, which was nice, and the instruments that the children were being taught were sort of a curved wooden board with seven strings drawn taut down the board’s length and supported at one end by a little piece of wood. I later found out that it was called a guqin.

Aedith and I were allowed to come inside and watch the children at their lessons. The music sounded odd to my ears, but it served to drive home the diversity of the Shining Land, and just how little of it I’ve seen so far.

[Note appended to manuscript: “You’ve seen more of it than I have, wolfess.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “That’s because I’m taller. Higher vantage point.”]

Kung seemed to be moving a bit slower as he sat down to watch the music lesson, and he thanked me as I helped him sit. “Elves Do Not Lie, young wolfess, but old age is a good and pleasant thing.”

“Oh?”

The elderly canine nodded. “It is true that you are gently shouldered off the stage,” and he suddenly smiled up at me, his eyes set amid the folds of skin twinkling, “but then you are given such a comfortable front stall as a spectator.” He gave a soft chuckle and nodded, and I turned to see that Aedith had left us and was sitting beside one of the canine children.

My daughter was sitting very close, her fingers and paws twitching as she tried to imitate the student’s motions. The girl was nodding encouragement, and suddenly everyone stopped playing as the teacher uttered a stern word. Everyone went quiet as the teacher got to her feet and padded over.

She looked at the student, and then at Aedith, before saying a few words to the student. The younger femme nodded vigorously and scooted to her right as the teacher padded back to her seat. The little girl seated next to Aedith and gestured for her to follow along.

The first chords were a little off, if the smothered giggles from a few of the students were any indication, but Aedith got the hang of plucking a few key notes. After she had managed the full scale, the exercise resumed but at a slower and somewhat more elementary level, with Aedith trying to keep up and the girl beside her coaching her along.

While I listened, I kept my eye on Sunny as she and the other girl interacted, and my suspicions that she already knew Elf-mind grew. Again, I’d check on this after our evening meal.

When the class ended, Aedith came back to me, flexing her paws and making faces as she did so. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“That’s hard to do,” she said, rubbing her fingertips against the pad of her thumb.

“Everything is hard to do at first,” Kung said, “but as you do, it becomes easier.”

“Is that how you teach here?” I asked.

The ancient canine smiled as he placed his paws in his lap. “I heard, and I forgot. I saw, and I remembered.” He raised a finger. “I did, and I understood.”

I couldn’t fault him for that. You can hear about using a sword, or watch two furs sparring, but until you feel the weight of a hilt in your paw and actually use a blade, you’ll never understand.

The next class was dancing, and Aedith had a much easier time keeping up with the careful, precise steps that the other children went through. After that was a class in writing and reading, and Master Kung guided us back to our quarters to rest and get ready for dinner. Before her bath, Aedith took a nap in the sunlight coming through the windows, while I sat against one wall, watching her sleep as I thought about what Master Kung had said.

I was also thinking about where the Gate might take us next. This was a wonderful place to visit, but we had somewhere to go. Whatever guiding intelligence might be behind the Gates (they were truly ancient, Long Ago magicks, so they might be sentient and talk to each other, you never know) might have some reason for prolonging our trip to Eastness.

Still, whatever happened, my daughter and I would meet it in a Seelie, Elfly manner.

Dinner was just as interesting as breakfast and lunch, and more heavily weighted toward feral meat in deference to the fact that we are both wolves. The tea served with dinner wasn’t sweetened, and looked a little clearer and a slightly different color than the Rajjan Tor tea that Princess Anastasia favors. Still, it was all delicious, and as we finished the meal I decided to try something.

I stretched as I reached out with Elf-mind. “Aedith? Tickle me.”

Now, something like that sounds very simple, doesn’t it, as well as rather silly. Well, it’s how I learned Elf-mind when I was a cub in the creche at Artemisiaford. Make it fun, and young minds will take to it faster and retain it longer.

So I just sat there, very quietly sending that thought out while not making eye contact with my daughter while she looked at a picture book that Kung had given her.

Aedith paused, one ear flicking.

I just kept on what I was doing.

Her ears swiveled, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her set the book aside and start creeping toward me as quietly as she could. She paused, ears swiveling.

And pounced on me.

“Eek!” I said, making every effort to be surprised as little paws started seeking out ticklish spots on my ribs, and giggling as she found them. Of course, I had to retaliate, and we were both rolling around and tickling each other, gasping with laughter until we finally ran out of breath.

I craned my neck and nuzzled Aedith. “You know Elf-mind, Aedith!” I said happily.

“Yes, Mommy. I heard you, up here,” and my clever girl tapped the side of her head. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can,” I replied. “When did you learn how to use Elf-mind, Aedith?”

She hugged me and said aloud, “Sister Stella taught all of us.”

Ah. “Why?”

“Well, she said that it’s because Sixth doesn’t know what we’re saying, so we all talk in Elf-mind,” Aedith replied. She smiled. “Stella’s really smart.”

“Yes, she is.” Probably smarter than her twin brother, and definitely more dignified. Fitting, as she’s destined to rule Elfhame eventually. “Can you pat your head, rub your belly in circles and wag your tail at the same time?” I asked and smiled as her eyes widened. “I bet you can’t.”

She blinked before smiling as the challenge was accepted. “Watch this, Mommy,” and she got to her feet, thought about my challenge, and started by patting her head.

It took her a few tries, but she managed to pat her head and rub her belly in time, slowly. Bringing her tail into it caused problems; try as she might the best she could manage was her tail swinging about in a circle rather than wagging from side to side. Finally she huffed and said aloud, “I can’t do it.”

I held out my arms, and she stepped into the hug. “Don’t worry,” I said as I stroked her ears. “Like Elf-mind, or playing that instrument, it takes practice to get really good at it.”

[Note appended to manuscript: “So that explains why Bridget and Trixie have venery with Sylvester so often. Practice makes perfect.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “And it’s easier to learn if it’s fun. Now, shaddap.”]

While taking our baths and getting ready for bed Aedith and I talked back and forth in Elf-mind while I learned how far her knowledge of it extended. Based on our conversation, I figured out that she’d started about two years earlier, and all of the children know how to do it. It of course makes sense; Stella knows some Standard, but like the rest of the roe-does in Elfhame she prefers not to use it, while Sixth knows only enough Standard to order drinks and get his muzzle slapped. Dotto and Stormy know Standard, along with the children who emigrated with their parents from Licksburg, and the children among the Gypsy Wolves speak their own language as well as Standard and whatever they’re learning from their fathers among the ex-Gray Horde prisoners.

It also made me wonder how many of the other adults knew that the children could converse in Elf-Mind. Chances were excellent that Princess Anastasia knew, along with Estvan Silverbrush. If the Master had known about it, he certainly hadn’t said anything about it.

[Note appended to manuscript: “No, I hadn’t known, apart from Sixth. But it does make a lot of sense.”]

Before we bedded down for the night, I traced a few wards over the window-frames, nothing fancy. There were those bandit-wahs to consider, and I wanted us to be safe.

“Good night, Aedith,” I said in Elf-mind as I gave her a hug and a smooch before tucking her in.

“Good night, Mommy.”

Elves Don’t Lie. I could swear that my eyes had barely closed when the wards around one window snapped me awake. It was sometime after midnight.

And there was a hooded figure wrapped in black silhouetted at the window.






<NEXT>

<PREVIOUS>

<FIRST>