The Wolf’s Daughter

It was never enough.

Phaedra had often believed she was spoiled by her father. But now, more than ever, she understood just how much. No matter how much she ate, it never seemed to be enough. She tried not to be a burden, but one way or another she was a guest here, so constantly begging them for food wasn’t an option. If it wasn’t for the fact they were dryads capable of growing more food in a day than she could normally eat in a month, she’d have been wary of taking any of their food considering the siege.

But every meal they brought her felt like it was trying to fill an impossible void in her stomach. It might buy her a few minutes of satisfaction, but it was never enough.

She’d been wounded before, she’d even lost her limbs before, but she’d never been at the mercy of another person’s supplies. When she had lost a hand, Gibs had ensured she ate until she was no longer hungry and now, more than ever, she was distinctly aware of just how much she must have eaten during that time.

The only food that seemed to bring her real satisfaction were those weird golden apple things, apparently they were called heartfruit. She wasn’t entirely sure why the translation magic translated it into that, but it was a food which she could say the name of easily enough. Unfortunately, it seemed that it was something that dryads could personally grow, but it wasn’t something they did often.

The worst part of the hunger was the fact she had to keep suppressing the urge to look at other people as if they were food. She was becoming distressingly aware of just how weak and vulnerable those trapped in this town were. She wondered if they were just as aware, or even frightened. Were they wondering if she was going to do something to them, or worse, try and devour them?

In some ways it felt like an old horror movie from when she was a human. All they needed was some weather problem to occur, locking them in the town. Then as food ran out, one or two of them would disappear, until eventually one of them came upon her, covered in their blood and--

Phaedra let out a growl and sat up, banging her head against the wall lightly. She turned a little and pushed her horns against the wall, digging them in as best she could. “Stupid… hungry… stupid me…” she muttered softly.

“Why are you out here?” Melas asked, making her jump.

“Huh?” Phaedra asked, looking over at the approaching dryad. “… I want to be nearby if there’s another attack, can’t get much nearer than the wall itself, right?”

“You don’t need to sit by the wall,” Melas said softly. “You’re welcome to be here.”

Phaedra tried to avoid chuckling. Oh, she was ‘welcome’, but she was definitely not welcome. “Please don’t take this the wrong way… but I really hope you don’t actually believe that.”

“Huh?” Melas asked.

“Well… in case you’re worried about me, don’t be,” Phaedra said. “It might not seem like it, but I can extend my wool to make even the hardest ground as soft as could be. Sheep demons are the best.”

“O-oh, really?” Melas asked before walking over and standing besides her, leaning against the wall.

“Indeed, we come with the best chairs at all times,” Phaedra said. “There’s no such thing as an uncomfortable seat for us.”

“Are you hungry?” Melas asked.

“Always,” Phaedra said.

Melas nodded before holding out his hand and, once again, offering her a heartfruit. She took it and quickly began to peel the outer layer, before biting into it. At least the peel was easy to remove, even one handed. It took her a few moments to realize he was staring.

Phaedra swallowed the bite before speaking up. “What?”

“Nothing,” Melas said.

“Are you sure?” Phaedra asked.

“Yes,” Melas said.

Phaedra shrugged before she took another bite. It wouldn’t satisfy that hunger for long, but at least it would help for a bit. She was healing, too. She could move the fingers on her mangled arm a little now. Not that she wanted to.

“What’s that mark?” Melas asked.

“Hrng?” Phaedra asked, unable to properly speak with her mouth filled with fruit.

“On the back of your hand,” Melas said before motioning towards her wounded arm. “The elves said it’s why you can’t be trusted, but they also said it means help will probably be here soon. But you’re eating the heartfruit, so it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“What?” Phaedra asked before tossing the peel of the fruit back to him. He caught it and it disappeared in a flash of magic. She really did love those fruits, they didn’t even seem to have seeds or cores to hurt her teeth on. She then glanced down to her hand before giving a low groan. “Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

“Huh?” Melas asked.

“It’s a… misunderstanding,” Phaedra said. The mark from the assassin. The elves weren’t wrong, though. In theory, an elven assassin might come looking for her at some point now. Worse, she might be vulnerable and in actual danger if they did come. Thought she found it unlikely they’d attack at this moment. No wonder the elves were worried by her, any of them who knew what it meant had no idea who she was, but they could at least guess she mattered enough for their leaders to want dead. “A pretty big one. But I don’t blame them for feeling that way. If I were them, I’d probably say the same thing. ‘That sheep is eeeeevil. Burn her. Chop her up. Make her into a stew. Turn her wool into a coat.’”

“You don’t think we will?” Melas asked.

“They’re in the same position I am,” Phaedra said. “We’re all guests here. I guess you are, too. You’re just… a higher rank of ‘guest’ than we are, I imagine.”

“Why do you say that?” Melas asked.

“You’re a dryad and protecting the town,” Phaedra said. “And I’d be willing to bet your tree is down in that forest down below, isn’t it?” The look on his face told her she was right and she couldn’t help but grin. “But even if they’re willing to say I’m a terrible monster, I don’t think you are. If you wanted me dead, you could have just left me to die down in those woods. There wasn’t anything I could have done about it.”

“Of course not,” Melas said, shaking his head. “Besides, you’ve eaten the heartfruit a few times, so you can’t be a danger.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Phaedra asked.

“What?” Melas asked.

“What does that fruit have to do with me not being a danger?” Phaedra asked. “That’s the second time you said that.”

Melas blinked a few times and stared at her. “O-oh… I think… I think I hear Zenodotus calling my name,” he said before he pushed off the wall and started to walk away.

Phaedra reached out, grabbing his arm before he could take more than a step or two. “Hold it,” she said firmly. “What did you mean by that?” she asked, her voice firm.

“Nothing, err, it—”

“Melas,” Phaedra said. “Please don’t lie to me. I’ve tried to be mostly honest with you. Please share the same courtesy with me.”

“Heartfruit… is incredibly toxic if… the consumer holds any ill intent towards the giver,” Melas said. “But the kinder the heart, the more sustaining the meal.”

Phaedra blinked a few times before she let him go. He let out a yelp and stumbled, falling over without her holding him back anymore. “Really? That’s it? I thought it was something serious.”

“You’re not mad?” Melas asked, sitting up. “I mean, uhhh, when I first gave it to you—”

“I could have been anyone,” Phaedra said. “You fed me and brought me into the place you were all hiding. I can hardly blame you for testing me with that. And if I asked you for food and ended up dying because I was intending to slit your throats in the night or something? It would have served me right.” She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Wish you would have told me sooner, though. The other dryads must have thought I was insane, asking about it.”

“You aren’t like most demons, are you?” Melas asked softly.

“Have you met many demons?” Phaedra asked.

“I… haven’t met any,” Melas said after a few moments.

“Then let me tell you something,” Phaedra said. “Something about about demons, dryads, elves, harpies, goblins, pixies, kobolds, and everything else. We’re all the same. We all come in all types. Good, bad, cruel, kind, tough, gentle, loving, gruff, friendly, harsh. It’s so very easy to see people as being ‘different’ because they look different, because they have claws or fangs or wool or bark or pointy ears or feathers. But at the end of the day? It’s their choices that make them who they are and what really matter. And you can find people of all kinds making a lot of different choices, no matter where you are. Demons are generally more violent than others, but we aren’t all violent and vicious. There are a lot of us who want to just make peace with each other… though those sort tend not to rise as high. Culturally? Our leaders claim territory, rule it fiercely. We expect our children to take our place, to even slay us one day. But not all of us are like that. At the end of the day? We’re… people. Just like everyone else. The elves in there? They have every right to be afraid of me. To them? I’m the enemy. While I wouldn’t harm them and I could stop most demons from hurting them if I was around them when it happened, they have no reason to know that, or even believe that.”

“Why would you?” Melas asked softly. “Protect them, I mean?”

“I’ve been weak before,” Phaedra said softly. “I know what it’s like. To be scared, helpless. I… really know what it’s like to feel like there’s absolutely nothing I can do, like I am entirely helpless and defenseless. Like… I am at the mercy of other people. Some of who are terrible or want to hurt me. I know what it feels like to feel as if everything in my life is turning and twisting and like it is all going to be snatched out from under me at any moment and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Because you’re a sheep?” Melas asked.

Phaedra closed her eyes and couldn’t help but smile. “Not quite. Honestly, being a sheep hasn’t caused me that much weakness. I’m only half and, while I get a lot of people who underestimate me for it, it’s from my mother’s side and she was incredible. She was Valkyrie. One of the greatest—”

“Your mother was Valkyrie?!” Melas asked, his voice filled with awe.

Phaedra opened her eyes and looked at Melas. “Ummm… yes? You’ve heard of her?”

“Of course I’ve heard of her! She’s one of Zenodotus’ most powerful summons!” Melas said.

“WHAT?!” Phaedra yelled, leaning forward and only barely remembering to NOT lean on her arm.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get a chance to have her question answered, as it was then that the bell started to go off, alerting them that the harpies had been sighted. She let out an angry curse under her breath when Melas ran off, before grudgingly getting to her hooves.

She was going to have to have to have a talk with Zenodotus about ‘summons’ later. What did that even mean? Had she met…

…

No.

Phaedra shoved the hope away.

In the end, Valkyrie was a name of power. Someone else had long ago claimed it. At best… she might know who held it now. Who had killed her mother.

But if she knew that, if she could give Phaedra a direction? It would be worth all the harpies in these mountains.

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