Chapter 61 #2
Avice giggled as she watched her Knucker’s nose twitch, it reminded her of how Bramble sniffed for pasties back in the village.
Trewoofe strode into the lively gathering area and lowered his head so she could dismount.
She froze as she turned to face the Wulver, each one had paused their activities and watched her curiously.
Trewoofe cleared his throat. “Wulver, this is Avice. My soul-bound.”
Her heart galloped as he so boldly declared her in front of his subjects. Avice waved her hand at the Good Neighbours and swallowed the nerves at the back of her throat.
“Hello,” she squeaked.
The Good Neighbours looked happy to see her.
All were bright eyed and wagging their tails.
The tallest of them stepped forward. She had warm golden eyes, and the edges of her brown fur were silvered with age.
Avice noted that the Wulver did indeed wear cloths; breeches covered their legs, and they wore tunics on their torsos.
The Wulver bowed. “My Lord, my Lady. Welcome to Wulver-led.”
To say Avice was bewildered would be an understatement. “My Lady?”
Trewoofe rested his chin on the top of her head. “Little witch, this is Queen Olwilla of the Wulver. Olwilla, this is Avice Gardener. My soul-bound and the reason the Underneath still has a Sidhe King.”
Avice dipped her head. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lady.”
Olwilla blinked in surprise. “You have no need to address me as such. You are the King’s soul-bound, and his saviour. You have a far higher standing than me in the Kingdom, my Lady.”
She giggled at that. “How about you call me ‘Avice’ and I call you ‘Olwilla’?”
The Wulver Queen wagged her tail. “I like the sound of that.”
Trewoofe had slunk away with his clothing during their exchange and returned in his human shape. He cut a fine figure in his dark tunic and purple hose. He tossed his arm around Avice’s shoulders when he returned and squeezed her bicep.
“We have come to see Bramble and Ashling,” Trewoofe said.
Olwilla dipped her head. “Of course, follow me.”
Avice was owl-like as they were led through the small settlement, her eyes wide and head turning this way and that.
Wulver-led was positively cosy. The Good Neighbours pottered around: weaving, whittling, and preparing food.
On the central fire pit, a boar on a spit and apples on skewers roasted over the flames.
Avice pressed a palm to her protesting stomach, willing it to shush as they were led to a large deerskin pavilion.
Olwilla gripped the entrance flap. “Avice, you should be aware, Bramble is much improved.” She watched as the Wulver’s dextrous forepaws rolled the skin back and tied it out of the way. “But the iron hurt him, and his recovery is slow.”
Avice nodded and put on a false smile. As much as she wanted to burst into tears at the thought of her familiar being hurt, she wanted to be brave for Bramble.
He had fought so hard to keep her safe. As though he sensed she needed his support, Trewoofe kissed her head and lowered his lips to her ear.
“I am with you,” he promised.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to come. “Thank you.” She smiled at Olwilla. “Please take us to him.”
The Wulver Queen beckoned them inside. Avice crossed the threshold, her bare feet meeting the fluffy rug.
She scanned the homey space, trying to spot her familiar and Wisp.
Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted a pile of soaking animal skins by the central fire.
It rose and fell slightly in the pattern of breath, and on top, a Wisp perched.
“Ashling!” Avice gasped, bolting over to him.
He brightened his flames, zooming over to her, and meeting her halfway. “Oh, Avice! I have missed you so.”
She offered him her palms, and he cooled enough to land on her skin. “My darling…”
Her voice cracked and she had no words. Instead, she nuzzled into the Wisp, crying freely now.
“Avice, you will extinguish me,” Ashling gently admonished as another tear dropped onto his flames, making a sizzling sound.
“Sorry,” she sniffled. “I am just so…”
“As am I,” he replied softly, kissing his cooled flames to her cheeks before he drifted up to Trewoofe. “My Lord.” He bobbed in the air. “Thank you for saving her.”
The Well King purred, the deep resonance vibrated through Avice, making her light-headed. “My purpose and my pleasure. I have missed you, Ashling.”
“And I you, Lord.”
“We had him soaking in a bath but moved him to this as he improved.” Olwilla gestured the group over to the pile of wet hides and laid her paw on it. “Bramble, you have visitors.”
His head – his darling, shaggy head – popped up from the bundle of pelts. His fur was messier than normal, and there was a criss-cross of scabbing cuts over his muzzle.
Avice! he whuffed, his body wiggling under the covers. Lord!
She dashed over to her familiar, dropped to her knees, and threw her arms around his neck. “I have missed you so.” She peppered his head with kisses. “I am so happy you are alright.”
I am sorry I could not stop them. I am sorry I let them take you, he whimpered as he sat up.
The soaking furs slipped off him. The scent and shimmer of the healing waters was unmistakable. The Wulver had cocooned her familiar in it. Avice had to admit she was impressed, but she could not help but think some calendula against his fur would help.
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Avice reassured as she rifled through her satchel. She pulled out the tiny vial of yellow flowers. “I love you, Bramble. You are the best familiar a witch could ask for. I am just sorry I could not get you free from that horrendous iron net before they took me.”
Bramble thumped his tail before facing Trewoofe. Lord, I am so sorry I did not keep Avice safe.
Trewoofe smiled down at him. “Little familiar…” He stooped to peck a kiss to the Grim’s head. “You did your best. We are all here, alive, and safe. We cannot ask for more than that.”
Avice’s heart melted. She placed the calendula next to Bramble and tossed her arms back around him. Trewoofe joined in, holding the pair to him. Ashling drifted in and landed on her head. She had never been so grateful for her little family.
Olwilla – who had been standing back from the tender moment – murmured to another Wulver who stuck their head into the pavilion. The Queen cleared her throat, breaking their small, intimate moment.
“The meal is ready,” she said. “Would you like to join us for something to eat?”
Avice blushed as her stomach growled. “I would love to.”
Trewoofe chuckled. “We all would.”