“Well, then,” Puck said, peering over her shoulder. “I guess there’s no choice but to follow the ominous paw prints of doom and see what they lead us to. Hopefully to a giant wolf and not an irritable manticore or chimera.” He winced and scratched the side of his head. “Though, if Wolfman is in a bad mood, I think I’d rather meet the manticore.”
9
PACKMATES
We headed into the trees, following the luminescent tracks as they set a long, loping trail through the forest. Around us, the Deep Wyld shifted and rustled, never still, always watching. Puck tossed a ball of faery fire into the air to light our way, and the glowing sphere threw strange dancing shadows over the ground and trees as it bobbed in front of us, making the darkness look like grasping claws coming to extinguish the light.
The tracks led us into the most tangled part of the forest, parting trees and undergrowth, until we stumbled upon an ancient stone ruin. In the past, it might have been a grand structure, but all that was left now were broken archways, mossy floors, and vines hanging from every stone. The paw prints ended at the edge of the ruins, and we ventured in cautiously, suddenly feeling the presence of something huge, even though we couldn’t see it.
“Okay, I think we’re in the right spot,” Puck said, his voice barely above a whisper. Even his quietest voice seemed to echo too loudly in the stillness. “This definitely has all those fun ‘monster lair’ feels. How close do you think Wolfman is right now?”
“Closer than you think,” growled the deepest of voices behind us.
We spun. Two yellow-green eyes, glowing and intelligent, watched us from atop a crumbling stone wall. “A good thing I’ve already eaten today,” the voice continued, as the massive form of the Big Bag Wolf dropped into the space with us. He seemed even larger than before, a massive predator of jaws and teeth and bristling menace. Nyx fell back, moonlight blades appearing in her hands, and Keirran tensed as the Wolf stalked forward, fangs bared in a terrible grin. “Robin Goodfellow, the Unseelie prince, the Iron Queen, the exiled king, a Forgotten and the cat, all invading my territory,” the Wolf mused. “This would have been a most interesting hunt, indeed.” His shaggy head swung around to me. “Hello, prince. I see you’ve still managed to hang on to that soul, or whatever you got from the Testing Grounds. And that cub of yours hasn’t destroyed the Nevernever yet. Though he is very brave, or very foolish, to show his face here.”
I stepped forward, feeling the wary looks of Nyx and Keirran at my back as I approached the huge wolf. “True,” I said, “but he is mine. And in a way, this is your fault. You should have eaten me when you had the chance.”
The Wolf snorted a laugh, and the immediate tension dissipated, if only a little. “That can still be remedied,” he growled, though the tone was begrudgingly amused. He sat down, still managing to tower over us as he gazed at me. “It has been a while since our paths have crossed, prince. What do you want this time?”
“Wait,” Nyx said, causing us all to glance at her. She stared at the Wolf, recognition dawning in her golden eyes. “I know you,” she whispered. “I’ve seen you before. But, how can that be? I’ve never been to the Deep Wyld.”
“I was alive when the Lady ruled, Forgotten,” the Wolf told her. “I remember those days, though it was very long ago. There was no wyldwood and Deep Wyld back then—there was only Faery. The arrival of Summer and Winter and the creation of the courts made it much more civilized, and much more suffocating. Those of us who had no desire to be part of their new laws and regulations left and made our way across the River of Dreams, into dangerous, unclaimed lands where we could be free. That territory, the lands beyond the reach of the courts, became known as the Deep Wyld. There are no laws here, no decrees, no kings or queens that must be obeyed. There are only the Old Ways—eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. That is the way it has always been, and that is how it will remain, if I have anything to say about it.”
“Um, right,” said Puck. “Speaking of laws and rulers...”
Meghan stepped up to join me, causing the Wolf to prick his ears at her. “We have a problem, Wolf,” she began, wasting no time in coming right to the point. Unlike the rulers of Faery, the Wolf would only grow impatient with empty niceties and superfluous words. I could appreciate that. “Something only you can help us with. I hope you will hear me out.”
“Iron Queen.” The Wolf peeled his lips back in a grin, tongue lolling out of his jaws. “I remember when you first came to Faery,” he said. “I remember a scared, magicless, weak little mortal. But you still decided to take on a legend to save the Winter prince, who was your enemy. Hah.” He panted, his grin growing wider. “You had teeth, even if you didn’t know how to use them. And now you are a queen, with all the laws, rules, decrees, and regulations that come with becoming the ruler of a court.”
His eyes narrowed, the grin fading as his expression turned serious. “Normally, I don’t tolerate the rulers of Faery poking their noses into my hunting grounds,” he growled. “Not unless they can offer me an intriguing hunt. However...” The gold-green gaze flickered to me. “You have both proven your strength, and the Deep Wyld respects that. I suppose I can listen. For old time’s sake. But make it quick—I have no desire to stand around and listen to pointless blather.”
Meghan nodded. “You know of the Forgotten,” she went on, and the Wolf snorted.
“Of course I do,” he growled. “I fought them in the last war, remember? I entered the Between with your mate to stop this one—” he glared directly at Keirran “—from tearing open the Veil and plunging the Nevernever into chaos.”
“Yes,” Meghan agreed, sounding perfectly unruffled, though I caught Keirran wincing behind her. “And now, they need your help.”
“Do they now?” The Wolf’s voice was flat and unimpressed. He lay down, crossing his enormous paws in a vaguely doglike manner. “And I suppose you are going to tell me why?”
“The Between is no longer safe,” Meghan went on. “Touchstone has been destroyed by an unknown monster, one that can twist fey into darker versions of themselves. The Forgotten cannot return home, nor can they stay in the mortal realm. We need a place where they will be safe.”
“You chose the wrong territory, then,” the Wolf said. “The Deep Wyld has never been safe, for anyone. Bring the Forgotten across the River of Dreams, and they will be in just as much danger here as they would in the mortal world.”
“Not if you are protecting them,” I said.
The Wolf curled a lip. “I am not a guard dog,” he growled. “I have no interest in helping those too weak to save themselves. If they cannot survive on their own, they are better off extinct. That is the way of the Deep Wyld. That is how it has always been.” He yawned with a flash of enormous teeth. “Besides, they are Forgotten. The Forgotten all come from the town where the fey go to die. Their time has passed. They are already not supposed to be here.”