Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

She stopped laughing, glancing down at her feet. “I don’t think normal is all that bad. Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like.”


“Red?” he said, a question in his voice.

Violet frowned. “Why does everyone call me that?”

He hovered like a ghost between thick branches. “What would you like me to call you? Blue?”

“Neither. My name is Violet.”

He tapped his jaw. “I prefer Red. Sounds more dangerous,” he purred, the ‘r’ rolling hard off his tongue.

When she looked back at him, his fur almost seemed to triple in size. What was it about his fur? Ewan’s didn’t do that. Then again, she didn’t really want to pet Ewan. Well, not his wolfy side anyway.

She licked her lips. “I think I would like to pet you, Cat.”

He dropped to the ground and swished his tail. “Because I like you, girl. I’ll let you do what few can. Come here.”

She hesitated and he purred, that kittenish sound luring her in like a siren’s song. The fog felt cold against her skin. She was right at the edge of the Hatter’s woods, not too far in that she couldn’t turn back in case this was a trap of some sort.

Her heart sped. Maybe she shouldn’t do this.

“Now sit,” he commanded.

His fur rippled and it was too hard to ignore the lure of it any longer. She sat, and the moment she did, he crawled in her lap. His big furry head rubbed along her chin. Sighing, she tickled him behind the ear and scratched under his belly.

“I’d forgotten how wonderful that feels,” he purred, and she smiled.

“You’re so soft. Like cashmere.”

In the distance, birds cawed.

Violet petted and petted, losing track of time, until shadows began to dance between trees. At first she thought it was nothing, but when she turned back to pet him, she caught a dash of black out of the corner of her eye.

“Cat,” she demanded, stilling instantly, “what is…”

The words died as the shadows took form. They were large, with big bellies, and covered in black and grey stripes. Black feathers adhered to their arms, and a long curved beak covered their nose and mouth.

“You’ve tricked me,” her voice broke.

“And this is my cue,” Cheshire said with a glint in his feral eyes, and then became nothing but a vapor. “Thanks for the rub down, Red,” his ghostly whisper mocked her.

Her eyes widened in horror as the beings moved in.

“Stay back,” she shot to her feet, “I can hurt you.”

The heads cocked in unison.

“Not if you can’t see us.” The voice came out a tinny echo behind the mask.

But she didn’t have a clue who’d spoken, and with the shock of seeing bird men advancing, came a complete lapse of reason. She stood frozen, a split moment of indecision that would cost her dearly.

“What?” Her pulse stuttered.

The bodies moved so fast they were little more than a blur. Finally, she remembered to move. She twirled on her feet, and started running back to the safety of her woods. “Ewan,” she cried. “Help.”

A black hood slid over her face. She screamed, clawing to get it off.

“Now sleep,” the voice commanded and something tickled her nose.

She remembered no more.

Chapter 11

Ewan shot to his feet. He’d fallen asleep, he hadn’t meant to. But purging the crone’s soul from his body had seemed to drain his own life essence. He ran, pushing his limbs as hard as they’d go. Which wasn’t hard, or fast enough. Running on jellied legs, he tried to ignore the fiery burn pounding away at his skull. Body be damned, all that was important was finding her.

His heart clenched when he picked up her fear laden scent.

And that of the cat.

Howling, he followed. She was deep in the Hatter’s territory, but there were others with her. Birds.

Black feathers were scatted all around. And for a moment he feared the worst. Malvena’s spies had somehow found her.

But there were so many feathers. Too many. Birds didn’t molt for no reason. Had there been a struggle and she’d pulled some out? But one glance at the dirt spoke volumes. Red had barely turned to run before whatever had found her caught her.

Not only that, he did not smell Malvena anywhere. There was no stench of death, or waste of birds.

But that didn’t mean she was safe. Something had taken her.

Dizzy with fear, he prayed he’d make it to her in time. Why hadn’t he followed her? He should have followed her. She didn’t know this land. He did, he knew how treacherous--this place most of all--could be.

Feathers were scattered everywhere, dropping off like someone had overturned a bucketful of them. Not only that, the kidnappers weren’t taking her north toward Malvena’s keep, they were heading in the direction of the Mad Hatter’s garden.

It took a moment for the realization to dawn on him that even the trees did not attack. They sat, like great big giant bulwarks; almost appearing to be as benign as he knew they were not. No roots came up out of the ground to trip him, no branches made a grab for him. Even sappy maws remained closed.