Mind of a Witness

Chapter 3

The waxing gibbous moon was just starting to shine when I first set off with Prince Gnarl of the Blackfang clan. It was only a ten minute walk from the castle's back gate to the royal hunting grounds. But by the time we stepped into Heshler Forest, the royal werewolf had already discovered that I could not lie to him.

Upon hearing this fact, the first question that the shaggy gray beast asked was, "Did the Queen tell you to cooperate with me, or are ya going to be evasive-like?"

I thought that cornering me like that so early in our relationship was quite rude. Nevertheless, I replied, "This hunt is being conducted for your enjoyment, Prince Gnarl. I have been told to be a cooperative and forthcoming companion. Anything short of state secrets and sworn confidences can be discussed."

He rubbed his paws together with glee. "Hot damn. This is going to be a fun trip, Witness."

I grit my teeth. I wished for the hunt to end swiftly, but my silent prayers were not answered.

Then the quizzing started. He was disappointed by how boring my life had been before moving into Castle Heshler. It was clear that the lupine was digging for embarrassing material, something to lord over me as he amused himself.

About half an hour into our trip, he struck gold. He asked, "What was the dumbest thing you had to admit to Lynne?"

I bristled a little bit every time the mangy mutt used my Queen's name rather than Her title. Apparently, She insisted that he drop the formalities when they were alone. And as I was standing in Her stead and we were alone, I begrudgingly had to accept this breach of protocol.

But my annoyance was quickly washed away by the realisation of what he was asking me to admit. I frantically tried to think of a way that my naivety could be classified as a state secret.

Prince Gnarl crowed, "Oh this must be good. Even in just the moonlight, I can see you turning as red as the belly of a newt. What is it, then?"

I stammered, "When I f-first left the farm, I wasn't... educated in the ways of the world. Of w-women. I mainly took care of chickens, and never got involved w-with the mechanics of... breeding."

"What are you saying, boy?"

I blurted, "I didn't know where babies came from. H-human babies at least. I thought eggs were involved, and after an unfortunate incident... I had to ask her."

The gray wolf started howling with mirth. If there was any wild game close by, surely they ran for the distant hills.

I snapped, "It isn't funny, Sir. I gravely insulted a duchess who propositioned me when I asked if she was in the process of clutching."

This fact was apparently even more humorous to the smelly creature. Prince Gnarl lost his footing and curled up into a ball, his knees tucked to his chest. He couldn't stop laughing. Almost a minute passed before the wolf panted his way back to sobriety.

He looked up at me, tears in his eyes, and said, "I need a break after that. Take a seat, Andy. You've earned a little rest."

It was the first time he used my actual name rather than my title. I didn't like the way it sounded coming from his beastly muzzle.

Nevertheless, I sat on the forest floor. The early Fall leaves that carpeted the ground were still mostly green. I knew from experience that they would turn a brilliant orange or red in just a couple of weeks. But I found myself hoping that my newfound companion would be long gone before he got to see such a glorious sight.

Prince Gnarl was digging in his pack for some jerky, and taking his time about it. I took a moment to examine the beast, or at least as best I could in the pale moonlight. He was easily a head taller than me, and far broader at both hip and shoulder. The longbow and warhammer resting on his back would have been a challenge to wield, even for the strongest humans in the Queen's personal guard. The wolf was clad in a set of oddly mismatched armor. A leather and ring vest protected his chest and back, but left his arms mostly bare. I say 'mostly', because solid steel vambraces adorned the bottom half of each forearm, presumably acting as small shields in combat. A chainmail kilt hung down to the werewolf's knees, leaving his lower legs and rear paws exposed. I wondered if this odd attire was to facilitate his shapeshifting.