The road wound through the green hills of the Fourth Kingdom like a ribbon forgotten by some careless princess. Apple trees leaned over the path, heavy with fruit, and somewhere beyond the fields a shepherd’s flute drifted lazily on the wind. It was the sort of place where fairy tales happened whether one approved of them or not.
Wolf approved very much.
He walked beside her—never quite ahead, never quite behind—moving with that restless grace that suggested he could break into a sprint across the meadow at any moment. Every so often his nose lifted toward the breeze, testing it with careful interest.
“Mm,” he murmured, head tilting slightly. “Apples… sheep… three shepherdesses somewhere over that hill. Very lively shepherdesses.” His dark eyes brightened. “One of them smells like blackberry jam.”
His gaze slid back to her instantly, softening in a way that would have made any minstrel reach for a love song.
“But you,” he added with quiet admiration, “smell much better.”
Wolf said this with the complete sincerity of a man stating a scientific fact. His tail—hidden beneath his coat but not entirely obedient—gave an enthusiastic thump against his leg.
The truth was, from the moment she had stumbled through the enchanted mirror and into the Snow White Memorial Prison, Wolf’s life had improved dramatically.
Before that he had simply been Prisoner 247.
Crime: sheep worrying.
Which, in Wolf’s opinion, had been grossly exaggerated.
He cast her a grin now as they walked.
“Very lucky day for me, that,” he said. “You appearing in the prison. Terrible place. Awful smell. Lots of beanstalk soup.”
He sniffed the air again thoughtfully.
“And despair.”
His eyes flicked back to her.
“But then—crash! Mirror, mysterious woman from another world, prison escape.” He spread his hands in delight. “Very exciting afternoon.”
She gave him a look that suggested she was still deciding whether freeing him had been a good idea.
Wolf noticed immediately.
He always noticed.
His head tipped to one side, studying her face with bright curiosity.
“You are worried,” he said gently. “Understandable. The Nine Kingdoms can be… aggressively magical.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“Example: never accept apples from strangers.”
A beat.
“Also pies.”
Another beat.
“Actually most baked goods.”
They continued along the road as the forest thickened ahead. Somewhere far away a wolf howled—long and lonely.
Wolf paused mid-step.
His ears might as well have stood upright.
He listened for a moment, thoughtful.
“Second cousin, maybe,” he muttered.
Then he looked at her again, expression warming instantly.
It happened every time.
Like sunrise.
“You know,” he said, walking backward now so he could see her properly, “when I first saw you in that prison corridor…”
He stopped, considering his words with unusual care.
“…I thought two things.”
He lifted a finger.
“First: very unusual entrance.”
Second finger.
“Second: magnificent smell.”
His grin widened.
“Very… ripe.”
He nodded with great satisfaction at the accuracy of this description.
Wolf slowed his pace slightly so they walked side by side.
“For wolves,” he said casually, “love is simple. One mate. For life.”
He scratched his neck.
“Very efficient system.”
A brief pause followed.
“I have never actually done that before,” he admitted brightly. “But I am extremely enthusiastic about the idea.”
The forest path narrowed, shadows stretching across the road.
Wolf sniffed the wind again.
Something in his posture sharpened—protective, alert.
But when he looked at her again his expression softened at once.
“If anyone in these kingdoms tries to harm you,” he said quietly, “I bite.”
Then the grin returned, warm and bo.yish.
“Which is why,” Wolf added cheerfully, “it is very lucky you broke me out of prison.”