The pointy ends of the weapons seemed to be directed towards Thalaea only. She held her hands up in surrender; Salia, Ruk, and Isuena growled at their packs to stand down, for several of Thalaea’s friends seemed ready to leap upon the newcomers and rip their throats out.

The bipeds who met them could only be Thaenites, she decided. They were short, perhaps coming up to her hips. Their skin was gray, their hair abundant, coming down in long black waves from the tops of their heads to form large beards from their chins. Both hair and beards were tightly braided, and the remaining bits of skin that Thalaea could see were also hairy. Not quite the Afghan-hound-type of human she’d pictured and definitely not what she expected from the word Elf. Their eye colours ranged from white to shale; they were muscular, thick arms clutching wicked crossbows.

They had wolves with them.

One wolf per biped, standing to the human’s right. Each had a deep gray coat, with some hints of white at various places: one had white paws, another a white blaze on his chest, another a white chevron on her back, and two with white splotches on their foreheads. Thalaea wondered if the five wolves were siblings.

The wolves growled, ruffs raised at the interlopers. Scouts and warriors of the three Steelmint packs came to the front, meeting the Thaenite growls with equal growls.

If something wasn’t done, full-out war would break out among the wolves.

Salia growled fiercely at the gray wolves. The one you threaten carries our pups — would you kill newborn cubs?

Instantly a shift came over the five gray wolves. Some of the anger dropped, and they looked at Thalaea in confusion instead. One of them tugged at the pants of a crossbow-wielding Elf, and the man looked down into the wolf’s eyes.

A moment passed; then he barked an order. Thalaea didn’t understand right away; it was like listening to words one knew, but underwater. She didn’t need to understand, however: the other men lowered their weapons, though they kept glaring at her.

The wolves stood down, though some ruffs stayed up. An uneasy silence settled, and Thalaea waited for the next move. She didn’t dare make any sudden movements herself; she didn’t want to risk the pups’ lives.

As if summoned by her thought, one of the pups woke up, and started whimpering. The gray wolves looked at her sling and whined in response; they felt the primal, instinctual need to take care of the pups, even those of a possible enemy. The five Elves muttered among themselves, and this time Thalaea thought she caught snatches of words: alpha; upset, take them in.

The other pups were waking up now. She would have to let them down to feed from their mother soon. She began to slowly kneel to the ground; the Elves were skittish and they raised their crossbows again. She froze.

Tell them the pups must feed, she growled at the gray wolves.

The gray wolves looked surprised, then suspicious, and none of them made any move to tell the Elves to lower their weapons. Thalaea’s legs shook in her half-bent position; soon she would fall, and they would shoot her full of arrows.

Tell them! Salia growled ferociously, and one of the gray wolves actually jumped.

The five gray wolves exchanged glances, and then the one who had first told the Elves to lower the crossbows, the one with the white blaze on his chest, did so again.

Thalaea gratefully finished her descent to the ground, and pulled each pup out of the sling, setting them next to Myila, who was shaking with fear. Thalaea stroked her friend’s head. They won’t harm the pups. You’re safe.

She didn’t say what she was thinking, that now that the pups were out of the sling, the Elves had no reason not to shoot her.

She took the sling off her body and laid it next to Myila. She knew what came next.

Tell our packs to stand down, she sent to Ruk and Salia. She assumed they did, for next thing the Elves were barreling through the packs to the witch; three of them with weapons trained on her, the other two with ropes in their hands. They bound her wrists together in front of her, roughly, and then tugged her upright. She stumbled, her legs weak and half asleep, and they yelled at her.

She could smell the anxiety and anger in her fellow wolves, and Laeanai danced with worry behind her. Calm yourself, she sent to him. I’ve survived much worse; I’ll survive this.

She hoped she wasn’t lying.

The Thaenites led the three packs deep into the forest, to a stone fortress. At least, Thalaea assumed the three packs were led to the same place she was, as she went ahead of them, led by the Elves. The gray wolves stayed behind, so she assumed they’d lead her wolves later. She hoped they would. Otherwise, she might die here.

The Elves threw her into a prison cell in the basement of the fortress. They untied her hands and confiscated her rucksack, which they searched through. “Please be careful with the pods,” she said, but she didn’t think they understood. The looks they gave her, however, told her she may have just dug her own grave a little further. It was obvious they thought she was Minae; her speaking in Minae wouldn’t help matters.

Luckily, they were careful with her things, and she thanked whoever was watching over her. She’d hate to break her promise to Ill’ll because some clumsy guards broke the remaining full pods.

There she sat for three days. It was easy to count; they gave her three square meals. This surprised her but she didn’t question it. She was starving. It didn’t matter that the food was less than good; to her it tasted better than Natai’s cooking. She was so hungry that bread and water would have tasted like ambrosia and nectar.

On the second day, a man came in to her cell to talk to her. She assumed he was a man; all the Elves she’d seen had beards and there had hardly been an opportunity to ask if women Elves sported facial hair as well. By now, she’d absorbed enough of their language to understand them, more or less. She was grateful that certain divine powers had not left her completely when she had become mortal.

The Elf didn’t say anything at first. He pulled up a stool and sat, watching her eat. He wore a uniform similar to the other Elves’ uniforms — dark blue wool with buttons on the collar — but wore no cloak as the others did. Perhaps he’d taken it off because it was warmer inside. He also had more buttons on his collar. Thalaea counted four where the others had had one to three.

Military installation, then. Likely this man was in charge.

She finished her food, put her plate to the side, and gave him her full attention. She sat in a neutral, open position, trying to make herself look like less of a threat.

The man frowned, cleared his throat, and brushed some lint off his pants, though they looked clean to Thalaea. His white eyes regarded her frankly.

“You’re lucky. Had it not been for the presence of the pups, you’d already be dead.”

Thalaea looked around at the tiny cell, at her uncomfortable cot. She didn’t feel brave, or scared, or anything. She felt numb.

“I don’t see any pups in here,” she said frankly, and the man’s eyebrows shot up under his black bangs. She found it odd that a military man would have bangs, but then all the Elves she’d seen had been incredibly hairy; so obviously their military must have different rules regarding hygiene.

“Cockiness will do you no good in here, Minae spy.” Truth be told, he didn’t sound all that put out. If Thalaea had to put a tone to his words, she’d say he was amused.

“I’m not a Minae spy. If I were, I suppose I’d choose a different route to Thaen than the front door.”

“You’re Minae, and Thaen is at war with Min. That makes you a spy so far as I’m concerned.”

Thalaea felt the bed drop out from under her. The countries were at war? When had that happened? Why had no troops overtaken the packs on their journey?

The man stood and called for a guard to let him out of the cell. He left Thalaea alone, her calm shattered.

Her gut tugged, her intuition telling her: somehow, she was involved. Somehow, this war was her fault.

On the third day, the man came back. Thalaea had regained some of her calm by this point, and she sat up straight on her cot, waiting for him to speak.

“So,” he said, after again performing the ritual of frowning, clearing his throat, and brushing lint off his clothing, “what were your orders?”

Thalaea sighed, already tired of this game. “I’m not a spy. I’ll say it till I’m blue in the face, but I’m not a spy. I’m part of Salia’s pack. I’m a wolf. You can ask her yourself.”

The man laughed. “If you’re a wolf, why are you in Minae form? Why not walk on all fours, as you were meant to do? No. You’re a spy, or an assassin, or some other agent of the Duchess Innis. You’ve come to wreak havoc in Thaen. I can feel it in my gut.”

Thalaea gave the man a baleful glare. “Are you sure that’s not just indigestion?”

The backhand came so quickly she couldn’t duck. She fell to the cot, her whole face stinging with pain. The man wore a ring on his hand. It had cut her lips open, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

She sat up slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The man stood, glaring down at her. If she’d had the energy she would have found it amusing to be glared down at by such a short man.

“Do not test me again, spy. I have no patience for your games. You will tell me your orders, or you will be executed.”

“You mean I won’t be executed anyway?” Thalaea didn’t care if he hit her again. She was angry, and she was tired of this. If they were going to kill her, then let them kill her, already! The packs was here, and safe. It was obvious wolves were not in any danger here in Thaen. She’d finished her journey. Her destiny was complete.

The man said nothing in response. He left her cell again. She remained alone until the next day.

This time it was not the man in charge who came to see her. It was a guard; he’d been on duty by her cell for two days. He wasn’t one of the ones who’d escorted her and, as far as she could tell, he wasn’t much invested in what was currently going on. He reeked of apathy.

He unlocked the cell door and opened it, standing to the side, looking at her expectantly.

“Am I free to go?” she asked, somewhat incredulously.

He shrugged. “Those are my orders.”

Thalaea got up and left the cell before he changed his mind. She looked to the table at the end of the hall, where they’d searched her bag. The piece of furniture was empty, devoid of her things.

“Where’s my rucksack?” She tried not to let anger seep into her tone. This guard was not the one who had hit her. He’d been nothing but neutral and apathetic towards her. He did not deserve her anger.

He pointed in the opposite direction, back to the stairs she’d walked down to reach the cell. “You can get it up there.”

At the top of the stairs there stood a desk. She vaguely remembered passing it on her way down, three days ago, but that day had been filled with so much stress and anxiety that her memories were hazy. An Elf she’d not met before sat behind the desk. He was not military, to judge by his dress and bearing. She suspected he was a civilian, which made her wonder. Why was he there?

Thalaea approached him and asked about her things.

“Oh, yes, your pack. Don’t worry, we didn’t take anything!” His words and tone confirmed his civilian status; she couldn’t imagine a military man speaking in so casual or friendly a fashion. The short man got up from his chair to search some shelves behind him. Cubby holes, more like. She saw her pack resting within one. He put it down on the desk. “Here you go, lass. Sorry about all the trouble.”

She murmured her thanks. “Do you know why I was let free?”

The Elf shrugged his muscular shoulders. “Couldn’t tell you. I just work here.” He laughed. She smiled at him, determined to stay on the good side of as many Thaenites, Elf or wolf, as she could, put on her pack, and left the fortress.

Outside, the Steelmint wolves waited. Laeanai was bouncing to and fro nervously. When he noticed her presence, he bounded up to her joyously and jumped up, licking her face.

She hugged him back and gave him some human-style kisses, before letting him drop to the ground again. The rest of her pack came to surround her, kissing her hands and wagging their tails until she feared they might fall off.

She crouched down to her knees so her face was closer, and got a bundle more wolf kisses on her cheeks as her reward. Eventually the wolves calmed down enough for her to be able to speak to them and ask what had happened.

Salia and Ruk exchanged glances, and Laeanai seemed to suddenly be very interested in his paws. He danced embarrassedly away.

Thalaea raised her eyebrows at the wolves. Salia chuckled, and Ruk answered.

We were brought here shortly after you; took us a bit longer because we had the pups. But when we got here, the gray wolves told us you were held for questioning. We tried to get them to tell the Elves that you were as much wolf as we were, but… Ruk trailed off, and to Thalaea’s surprise Isuena picked up where he left off.

Stupid pups. They say they “can’t interfere” in the politics between Elves and Minae. They work with the Elves when it suits them, sure, but not when it’s actually important. The bitch directed a glare and a growl in the direction of the fortress. Thalaea turned her head to see where the five gray wolves she’d first met, plus a few strangers, were gathered. The wolves looked away from the Steelmint packs, possibly in shame.

We couldn’t communicate with them ourselves, said Salia, continuing the story. But last night was the new moon, and Laeanai had had enough. He could smell the pain you were in, he said. He asked me for help, so a handful of us all stormed into the fortress, naked and in Minae form. He found the man in charge, whose ring still had your blood on it.

And? Thalaea urged at the ensuing pause, already entranced by the story.

Ruk’s eyes danced with amusement. Laeanai grabbed the man by the throat and told him exactly what needed to happen: he was going to release you, or he would face the fury of three Steelmint packs!

Thalaea blushed, and looked at Laeanai. Had he been in human form, he would have blushed too. While lying down on the ground, he crawled shyly over to her and licked her hand. I was worried about you.

Thalaea buried her face in his fur and wrapped her arms around his neck. I’m so glad I have you for a friend, Laeanai, she sent.

He pulled away and licked her face. You have me forever.

She kissed him right between the eyes. And you have me.

That night the packs slept by the fortress, and hunted in Broomgap forest. The pack of gray wolves had come over to make apologies to Thalaea and the Steelmint wolves; most of her furred pack-mates were less than willing to accept an apology, but Thalaea did so graciously. It would be no use to continue to antagonize these wolves whose lands they had entered.

The next day, the gray wolves offered to show the Steelmint wolves around the forest, and so Thalaea spent most of the day following one of the wolves with the white forehead through the trees, listening intently as she pointed out all the features.

The wolf’s name was Loncra. Thalaea had the impression that, had Loncra enjoyed a higher ranking in her pack, she would have passed on the Steelmint’s message to the Elves. As it was, she was a beta and had not wanted to anger her alphas by arguing the matter.

Loncra knew the forest as well as she knew the scent of her packmates, and she happily showed Thalaea all she could. There was no Steelmint here, but Thalaea saw many other herbs she recognized, such as Dittany, Spiderweed, Duckthistle, Bending Hazel, and Sarracenia. Others she didn’t know but Loncra told her which was poisonous and which wasn’t.

The gray wolves ruled over all of Broomgap, both east and west of the road. According to Loncra, there were fifty packs in the forests of varying sizes. Most of them ran to gray in colouring, though there were some white wolves, and one or two packs of brown ones.

“And the Elves? How do they fit into your lives?”

Loncra gave her an odd look before shrugging and sniffing at a mossy log. They live in the Spiral City and the Islands beyond, far north. All the packs in the woods are friendly, or at least neutral with them. Our pack has a defensive treaty with them, as do a few others. Since we heard news of the war, we’ve been trying to get other packs to join with treaties of their own. We’re all in danger if Min marches on us.

Loncra sighed but was luckily distracted by a rabbit. She chased it but didn’t try too hard to catch it. Thalaea took a seat on a log and waited for the wolf to come back. When she did, the witch asked her how Thaen knew Min planned war on them, if no armies had been spotted yet.

Loncra smiled shyly. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because I think it might make the general mad, but I can smell you’re wolf as much as any of us. If the Lady has gifted you with wolf scent, then who am I to judge your form?

Thalaea smiled back at Loncra. Inwardly she felt a storm of confusion. Lady? As in…Lady of the True Woods?

This journey grew stranger every day.

We have a wolf in Daetus City, Loncra whispered to Thalaea conspiratorially. We have for centuries, since the first wars between our countries. The current one sent a message via raven. Ravens are fickle, but if promised enough shiny objects they’ll do things like carry messages for us.

“Is your wolf still in the city?”

Loncra shrugged, but she looked worried. We sent a raven back to Pinla, telling her to get out and come back to Broomgap. I’m not sure if she got it. I hope she did.

Thalaea guessed, correctly, that Pinla was Loncra’s littermate. She offered to pray for Pinla’s safety, and Loncra accepted happily.

It was on their way back that Loncra finally asked Thalaea the question that had obviously been weighing on the beta’s mind.

Do the Steelmint wolves not know about the Lady?

Of which Lady do you speak? Thalaea asked the question calmly while her hearts threatened to beat out of her chest.

The Lady of the True Woods, of course. I know you know of Her. You’ve been Marked.

Thalaea felt dizzy. Had the wolves of this world always believed in her? Why had she become mortal? What in her name was going on?

How can you tell I’ve been marked? How could this wolf tell that she was marked by the Lady of the True Woods? She’d thought that sort of thing would be invisible.

Loncra stretched and bowed. She answered Thalaea’s questions patiently. Your eyes. It’s said that only the Lady and Her chosen have eyes as blue as the Scalaelli flower.

Thalaea’s hand found its way to her cheek, unbidden. She’d almost forgotten about her eyes. She’d thought them husky-blue. But here, they were the blue of a flower, and they were the symbol of…her. Lady of the True Woods.

But that was who she used to be. She didn’t know who she was now.

I do know about the Lady, Loncra, she said finally. The Steelmint wolves do not, so far as I can tell. They turned away from Her long ago.

Loncra nodded, and sighed. That’s sad. The Lady has watched over us here in Broomgap for centuries. I’m sure She misses the Steelmint wolves. She loves all Her cubs.

Yes, she does, Thalaea agreed, trying to keep from crying.

Each time she got close to answers, to clarity, the truth danced away from her again, running deep and far into the woods, stranding her in confusion and frustration.

That night she decided it was time to fulfill Ill’ll’s wish, and to try the liquid in the third pod. Ill’ll had told her that long ago, witches of Min had used the liquid to see their gods. But Ill’ll grew further away every year, and the witches no longer searched out her pods to seek their divine. Perhaps they forgot about the plant — Ill’ll had sounded sad about that.

Thalaea figured that if she wanted answers, this was a way to do it. Maybe she could communicate with gods again — she’d even settle for talking to Mi, whom she disliked intensely.

She walked with the pods out into the forest, where Loncra had shown her around earlier that day. There was a clearing with some soft dirt in it, a perfect place to plant the pod. She took off her rucksack and unhooked her blood-stained shovel, digging at edge of the clearing. When she had a hole deep enough to put the pod in and barely cover it with dirt, she did.

She thought she heard a happy sigh from the plant spirit.

Sitting in the center of the clearing, she pulled out the other pod, still full of the strange liquid. Unplugging it, she smelled it. It smelled like liquorice. Shrugging, she took a sip of it.

If that was what liquorice tasted like, she decided she liked it. She took two more sips and then plugged the pod back up, sat back and waited.

The reaction didn’t take long. Instantly she tasted a variety of flavors on her tongue, at the back of her throat: fireweed, pine, rabbit blood, caribou meat, seal liver, moss, dirt, loam. None of it unpleasant but altogether somewhat overwhelming.

Then the tingling began at the top of her skull, dancing down like rain drops to her spine and the rest of her body. Soon all her skin danced with it; it felt as if sparks bounced off her and flew away. She could see them shining in the night.

She looked up at the stars. They were bigger tonight, brighter, and soon the sliver of the waxing moon rose, so tiny to the naked eye — but her eyes were no longer naked! They were clothed in the magic of the woods and they saw everything.

Her nose, too; her nose smelled everything around her. Rabbits sleeping in their dens; voles curled up in theirs. A woodpecker in his hole; a squirrel in hers. There were deer and elk to the north; even some moose. She could smell all the herbs and plants; a fantastic cacophony of scents invaded her nose but she breathed in deeply, this time; she felt no fear, she simply embraced the earth around her.

An owl hooted; perhaps it was her own mind. She turned towards it and saw nothing. This did not frighten her; she felt liquid…languid…loose. Her body stretched, moved; there was no differentiation between her skin and the earth; soon she melted into the dirt and became one with the Mother.

At some point she came to, and she was running on all fours — lupine again! Grace regained! She lifted her throat to the heavens and sang in gratitude, a long joyous howl that pierced the night around her and curled itself up to the stars in the heavens like smoke from a cozy cottage’s chimney. She was wolf again; she was finally herself, and her hearts threatened to burst with the happiness that flooded her.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she never grew tired. She came across another clearing and a cave; into the cave she slunk, curiosity driving her ever onwards.

There was the largest white wolf she had ever seen. The bitch towered above her, and looked down at her kindly. Thalaea shook with awe.

The wolf’s blue eyes regarded Thalaea. You have changed, and become new. Find yourself within my woods; rebirth yourself. Bring yourself back to your children, for they need you.

Who are you? Thalaea managed to ask.

I am nothing. I am you. I am mortal and goddess. Time knows no meaning for a goddess, yet I am mortal now and must find my way back to the True Woods to become who I am. And time runs out.

The white wolf started to disappear and Thalaea rushed forward, looking for herself in the fading vision.

The cave was gone. She ran onwards, searching for something. What? She didn’t know. What was it? Where was it? She had to find it.

The whole forest was alive. It shone with sparks and light, dancing like a fire that caressed the whole landscape. The sparks danced in front of her, leading her onwards. She followed, listening to their whispers.

This way, Thalaea…

…Over here, Thalaea…

…Come play!

She couldn’t resist. On she ran, four legs pumping with exultation, hearts beating with excitement. It was close, it was close, it was close….

The tree loomed up before her suddenly. A huge pine with white bark. Was that even possible? It smelled pine, she knew it was pine. Yet the bark resembled that of a birch tree.

What kind of tree was this? She smelled all around its massive trunk. Three wolves could curl around it, nose to tail, and wouldn’t meet one another.

There was a hole, in the trunk, and she smelled into it. It led downwards, into the earth. Feeling nothing but wonder, Thalaea put her paw forward, and followed the path down into the heart of her mother.

She awoke in the clearing. It was dawn.

Groaning, she got to her biped feet, then shivered. She was naked. Her clothes were shed beside her, as if she’d loped out of them as a wolf.

The witch frowned, and looked between her hands and feet to the clothes. There was fresh dirt under her nails, as if she’d spent the night running, and the base of her hands and feet ached as never before.

She felt her hair cautiously. It was strewn with twigs and leaves.

Had she changed into a wolf?

She quieted her mind and focused, trying to change into a wolf again. She concentrated on her form becoming liquid and loose and shifting down into a furred quadruped. She felt her face shift, and then the rest of her; when she opened her eyes, she was closer to the ground, and her hands were no longer hands. They were white-furred paws.

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