The Wolf’s Daughter

Phaedra groaned when she felt something curling around her hooves. She tried to nudge it off, but it didn’t stop. She was too tired and exhausted to put up more than a token resistance though. Even when she was slowly being dragged along and felt vines slowly wrapping around her body.

She was going to be eaten. In that moment, she couldn’t even care. She was too hurt, too tired and too hungry to object. If it wanted to eat her she wasn’t going to argue with it.

She felt more punctures across her body, but even those were oddly dull and weird. They didn’t hurt so much as they ached, even that fading as more of her went numb.

“She’s a sheep,” a voice said.

“Mmmm hm,” a second voice said. “A DEMON sheep.”

“That’s barely even a demon at all,” the first voice said. “The demons practically keep them as pets.”

“A demon is still a demon,” the second voice said. “She probably killed whoever activated the station.”

“I don’t think she could kill a baby now,” the first voice said.

Phaedra groaned and opened her eyes, trying to see whoever was talking. But there didn’t seem to be anything. Unfortunately, she could see that she was being dragged, slowly, through the woods. Vines coiled around her.

“She’s evil,” the second voice said. “Leave her, they’re worse than the harpies.”

Phaedra closed her eyes and lowered her head. She felt so tired, so weak and exhausted. But she pulled up what little bit of energy she could muster to speak. “Please… help… me…”

There was silence then. If there was anyone there, they didn’t say a word. Even as she felt herself being lifted higher by the vines, curling around her.

“Please…” Phaedra pleaded.

“Ah hell,” the second voice said.

There was a loud cracking sound and a moment later she was dropped back to the ground. The good news was that she was so tired and numb that she barely even felt the pain in her arm. She opened her eyes after a moment and was fairly sure she was seeing things, as she saw herself towering over her.

“I’m going to regret this, I can feel it,” the second voice said.

Phaedra closed her eyes and felt herself slipping out of consciousness again.

------

“Come on, wake up,” the first voice said. “Are you hungry?”

“Mng?” Phaedra asked unintelligibly. Slowly, her eyes opened, though the felt heavy as could be.

“Open up,” the first voice said in a gentle, soothing tone. Something was pressed to her mouth and she opened. A moment later a small trickle of some kind of broth dribbled into her mouth. Food. She leaned forward a bit and the drink was tipped further, allowing her to drink from it heartily.

It wasn’t much, but just that little bit made her feel so much better and gave her so much strength. Phaedra finally managed to actually look around, blinking a few times. It was night time and they were in front of a fire. She probably looked as bad as she felt, even the small look she gave herself showed so many tiny cuts and nicks with patches of blood covering her body. Her mangled arm was tightly bandaged and held in place to her torso.

“Here, eat this,” the first voice said before a small, brown orb was put under her nose. A weak hand reached up to grab it before she stuffed it into her mouth.

It was possibly the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Like a dumpling made of heaven. A doughy outer layer wrapped around a savory core. It was some kind of mashed up mix, she didn’t know, but she didn’t care. Once she finished the first a second and then third were put in front of her, which also quickly disappeared.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the second voice said. “If you want any more than that, the boss will need to okay you. Which he probably won’t.”

Phaedra blinked a few times before her eyes went up to look at the person standing over her.

A kid. A dryad, but definitely a child. He was probably in his fifties, maybe sixties. The bark on his body was still coming in. She then glanced around but didn’t see a second person.

She would have sworn she heard a second person.

Then she saw the second and she barely suppressed the urge to squeak. She’d thought they were a flower at first, but now she could just make out the gossamer wings, the clothing MADE of flowers, red, rose-like hair, a very tiny book held in their small hands and a tiny pair of glasses on their face. A pixie.

“Are you feeling better?” the dryad asked, the first voice.

“Much,” Phaedra said. “Thank you. I—”

“Don’t get any ideas!” the second voice said, the pixie. “Even if you are a demon, I have you recorded now. If you try anything, I’ll tear you apart.”

“Recorded?” Phaedra asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” the pixie said. “Just behave and there won’t be any trouble.”

“How did you end up in this forest?” the dryad asked.

“I fell,” Phaedra said. “My airship was attacked and… well… I fell out of it.”

The pixie gave a light snort. “Fell? Probably shoved off by your master.”

“Zenodotus,” the dryad said in a soft, slightly scolding tone.

“What?” the pixie asked. “Demons will turn on their own kind at a moment’s notice, especially a sheep.”

“I’m Phaedra,” she said, trying to ignore those comments. “I did fall, however. I was on my way to Roothome when—”

“I KNEW IT!” the pixie snapped. “So you ARE planning to attack our home! You’re with the harpies, aren’t you?!”

“With the who?” Phaedra asked. “Harpies?”

“Don’t play stupid!” Zenodotus yelled. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know any harpies,” Phaedra said, before shaking her head. She felt a little queasy still, but nowhere near as bad as she had. “I swear, I’m not with the harpies. In fact, they might have been who attacked us.”

“Probably,” the dryad said.

“Melas,” Zenodotus said quickly. “Stop. Don’t give her any more information.”

“She’s obviously not with the harpies,” Melas said. “And you said it yourself, she’s a sheep. If she was tossed off her own ship then—”

“Sheep demons will follow whoever they believe is strongest,” Zenodotus said. “The moment she thinks she can, she’ll turn on us.”

“It’s good to know you have such high regards for me and my kind,” Phaedra said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I imagine you must be an absolute joy at parties. Do you talk to everyone this way, or just demons?”

“Demons, usually,” Melas said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, most we’ve run into haven’t… well…”

“No, I get it,” Phaedra said. “It’s not paranoia if everyone is out to get you.” While she knew better than to admit it now, she had, technically, been on her way to attack the dryads, so it wasn’t like she had any legs to stand on in objection. “You did save my life,” Phaedra said. As much as she’d have loved to say they’d only ‘possibly’ saved her life, she had been helpless. She didn’t even know what had grabbed her in the end, but if they hadn’t saved her, there was almost no chance she would still be alive. “So, one way or another, I owe you.”

“Actually…” Melas said softly before glancing towards Zenodotus.

“Really?” Phaedra asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

Zenodotus quickly opened her book and buried her face in it. “You begged us to help you. I couldn’t just leave you strung up like that. It doesn’t mean you’re not evil, or dangerous. Especially now that you’re fed.”

“Well… thank you all the same, I guess,” Phaedra said, shaking her head. “I’ll try to repay the favor if I can.” She technically was only interested in the goblin and was more interested in trying to find out if there was anyone she knew and ensure they’d be safe, but there wasn’t really any way for her to explain that. She couldn’t even explain it to her own people without risking them finding out she was Medon, so it wasn’t like she could be anything but grateful for this rescue.

“Thanking me is wasting your time,” Zenodotus said. “We’ve only delayed things.”

“What do you mean?” Phaedra asked.

“Roothome has been under siege for weeks,” Melas said. “If you were coming for… actually… why were you coming?”

“Mostly investigating,” Phaedra said, scrambling to come up with a, technically, true reason. “There’s a goblin here, one said to have a very powerful, but strange, name. I’m currently looking for a specific name and hoping to find out if they have it.”

“Ohhhh, you’re here for the boss?” Melas asked.

“Of course,” Zenodotus said before closing her book. “It just keeps getting better. How many demons were on your ship?”

“Uhhhhh, not counting the crew? Five,” Phaedra said. “The crew varied, the captain organized that.”

“May they and the harpies tear each other to pieces,” Zenodotus said before she tapped her book. It glowed with a golden light before a page flew out into her hand, which she then flicked towards the fire. On the way it turned into a small orb of water, splashing over the flames and snuffing them out. “If we take you to the boss, will you be a good little sheep and tell him everything you know?”

“I’ll try,” Phaedra said. She tried not to feel too offended by the fact they still seemed to think she wasn’t actually a threat.

Melas got to his feet and held out his hand to her, which she took with her working one. When he pulled his hand away, there was a small fruit in it, it looked like a golden apple.

“Huh?” Phaedra asked before following after the pair as they walked.

“You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” Melas asked.

“Can you STOP feeding our prisoner?” Zenodotus asked.

“But she’s hurting,” Melas said softly. “I want to help.”

“You’re going to get hurt like that,” Zenodotus said softly. “You can’t just help everyone you run into.”

“She needed help,” Melas said.

“Sometimes helping people is the wrong choice,” Zenodotus said.

“It shouldn’t be,” Melas said. “Mom always says ‘Empathy is what makes us truly alive’.”

“Your mom sounds like a nicer person,” Phaedra said. “Is she in Roothome?”

“No,” Zenodotus said, her voice turning VERY cold. “And it’s none of your business. Just keep up and stay quiet or we’ll leave you in the woods.”

Phaedra gave a soft sigh, but didn’t object. She hadn’t met many pixies when she was Medon, but the few she met were nothing like this one. She was so grouchy and vicious. But she’d helped free her when she asked for help, so there had to be some good, right?

She shrugged and took a bite of the golden apple.

It tasted like dirt and she struggled to not spit it out. There was just the smallest hint of sweetness, but for the most part it might have been more appealing to eat the dirt itself. The inside, at least, was better.

It took her a moment to realize Melas was starring at her.

“What?” Phaedra asked.

“You uhhhh… usually… don’t eat the peel,” Melas said softly. “I mean, you can, but ummm… sorry. I should have peeled it for you. With your hand and all.”

Phaedra blinked and then, slowly, began to ‘peel’ the apple. Of course, she should have known. Golden apple, eat it like an orange. Because why not?

------

“Useful,” Phaedra mumbled when they came to the entrance to Roothome. She could see why it hadn’t been invaded. The entrance itself was a single tunnel in the cliffs, leading to a staircase that went up and into the village at the top of the canyon. However, the entrance was surrounded by grasping, thorned vines that reached out to grab anyone who came near… unless there was a dryad there to calm them.

Atlas had shown her the tunnel once, long ago. But it hadn’t had so many protections at the time. More importantly, there were many, many new paths through the woods, but it seemed that there were also many that had been abandoned or become overgrown. Within a decade, she wondered if there would be anything left of the trail she had walked, or would it be so overgrown that she would have never noticed it?

She soon came to something that WAS familiar. The steps opened into a large chamber that was filled with people bustling about…

Many of whom stopped and stared when they entered.

Phaedra couldn’t help but notice just how many elves there were, only outnumbered by the dryads.

“A demon?” one of the elves asked. “Why are you bringing a DEMON here?!”

“She’s who we found,” Zenodotus said. “Came off that ship we saw.”

“It was a demon’s airship?” another elf yelled, her voice filled with grief. “Does this mean nobody is coming?”

“We don’t know that,” Zenodotus said quickly. “We just know that ship wasn’t one. We’ve still got time. We’re taking her to meet the boss.”

“Should toss her outside the walls,” one of the elves snapped. “Give her to the harpies. No better than she’d do to us.”

“That’s for the boss to decide,” Zenodotus said before prodding Melas’ shoulder. “Come on, kid, let’s go.”

“O-oh, right, yeah,” Melas said before he quickly started walking, tugging on Phaedra’s good arm. As they started ascending further up, there were more rooms. More elves. More glares and angry comments. “Sorry about them,” Melas said softly. “Most of them are refuges from the war.”

“Yeah,” Phaedra said softly. “The Elevated Dynasty fell. It… left a lot of people running, didn’t it?”

“Most of them don’t mean it,” Melas said quickly. “It’s not your fault, they’re just scared and hoped you might be help.”

Phaedra nodded, but didn’t say anything. Oh, it was her fault. Maybe not entirely, but it was so much more her fault than any of them would ever know. She’d failed to stop Fenrir before and now she was the daughter of the man who had taken their home. She suspected they entirely meant it.

“Not like they have much to complain about,” Zenodotus said viciously. “They could have stayed and fought. Instead, they ran.”

Melas gave a soft sigh and shook his head. “They’re not fighters.”

“They’re not weak or feeble, either,” Zenodotus said. “When things got rough they took what they could and ran, leaving the rest of their people to fend for themselves. Who knows what’s going on in that city now? For all they know, those left behind all had their hearts torn out.”

“No, they haven’t,” Phaedra said quickly. “Those who gave in would still be alive. There wouldn’t be any point to slaughtering everyone in the city, it wasn’t like fa-- the demons would want to keep the buildings for themselves. Kill the people and you destroy what makes the land valuable, since there’s nobody left to create or maintain it.”

“Sure they do,” Zenodotus said, rolling her eyes. “As said by a demon.”

“Fine, I guess we just tear out their still beating hearts willy nilly,” Phaedra said, unable to keep the curtness out of her voice. “Wasting lives. Because that’s any way for a demon to get stronger. We only…” She trailed off when she realized Melas was getting more tense by the moment. “Sorry. We’re demons, though. Not monsters. Our goal is power and strength and there’s nothing to be gained by wildly killing the helpless.”

“You really are a sheep, aren’t you?” Zenodotus asked. “Is that what your lord says? Is that why you follow him so blindly?”

Phaedra took a slow, deep breath. Oh, she was NOT going to get along with this pixie. Not even a little bit, she knew that. She--

“You returned!” a voice that sounded, oddly, like the weirdest combination of someone who had breathed in a lot of helium, while also managing to yell through a rock grinder. A combination she had never even imagined before today. It belonged to a, well, goblin. Not much taller than Emma. He had thick, green, leathery skin and big red eyes. A blade was 1strapped to his back, embedded with red jewels. “Ahhhh, is this ravishing princess who had called on our aid in a moment of desperate need?”

“Yeah, this is the demon who activated the station,” Zenodotus said. “Boss, meet Phaedra. Phaedra, meet the boss.”

“Ahhh, Lady Zenodotus, that is hardly a proper way to speak to a princess,” the goblin said before walking forward and taking Phaedra’s good hand. Then, to her surprise, he kissed the back of it, before bowing. “My fair princess, please, allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Lord Don Quixote, knightly wielder of the Red Eye.”

“… Fair prince-- Wait, did you say Don Quixote?!” Phaedra asked, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice.

This was him.

This had to be him.

If ever there was a name that would be cursed, she couldn’t imagine a better candidate than Don Quixote.

Oh, what did she get herself mixed into?

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