Aria and the Wolf Prince

A chuckle tried to escape Wells’s throat, but he forced it down. Her attempt at a deep, masculine voice sounded more like she was suffering from a bad cold. Though he managed to maintain his composure, Aria’s sharp, bird-like gaze told him she had noticed his suppressed amusement. He offered her a look of mock pity, and she continued her story.

The Wolf Prince, she recounted, had tilted his head back and laughed. “Little bird,” he’d said, “you are not immense like the wise owl, nor are you noble like the mighty eagle. Killing you would be a waste of my energy. It would be better for both of us if you simply abandoned my tree.”

“Naturally, I wasn’t about to take that. Would you?” she asked Wells, who simply shook his head. “I didn’t think so. I chirped right back at him, ‘Your tree? I’ll have you know I’ve roosted here for three nights and have already built my winter nest.’ That seemed to annoy him. He muttered something to his underlings that I couldn’t quite catch, then snarled at me.”

“‘You have a sharp tongue, bird,’ he growled. ‘Do you have any idea who I am?’”

“‘Well,’ I replied, ‘I can certainly smell you from up here.’ That might have been pushing it, because he let out a furious roar and leaped up the trunk. Thankfully, he couldn’t reach me, but his claws left a deep gash in the bark.”

“‘I am the Prince of Wolves and the Lord of this Forest, bird,’ he declared. ‘And who are you? You are not the Lady of the Crags or the Queen of the Skies.’ Or something to that effect. Then he howled, ‘You are begging for death, bird!’ The absolute slimeball.”

“And of course, I wasn't going to take that either—would you? No. So I told him, quite sweetly, ‘If I were begging for death, you mongrel, I would say, please kill me. I wouldn’t dance around the subject!’ I suppose that was the wrong thing to say, because the entire pack started lunging at the tree, trying to knock it over.”

“The wolf finally answered, ‘Very well, bird. We will starve you out. We will follow you wherever you fly, and the moment you touch the ground, you die.’” Aria gave a theatrical shudder. “By that point, don’t you think I might have provoked him just a little too much?”

“It would seem so,” Wells said gravely. “Although, I think I’d have had the good sense not to call the leader of a wolf pack a mongrel.”

Aria snorted, a sound of pure derision. “You would make a terrible bird. If you were pushed from a nest, you wouldn’t even try to fly. You’d just hope to land on a particularly soft rock.”

Wells scowled at her. “I would flap,” he said defensively.

“I’m sure you would,” she shot back, her tone dripping with cynicism. “And you’d be a smear on the stones by now. But this is my story. Lighten up! If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? Now, where was I?”

“You had just made a complete fool of yourself,” Wells supplied grimly.

“Thank you, but I can manage without the colorful commentary,” Aria retorted. “Ah, yes, I remember now. The wolves’ plan to starve me was utterly foolish. I can fly for miles without needing to land. Their strategy was like trying to catch a fish by standing on the shore and waiting for one to leap onto the sand.”

“So, for a few nights, I would fly off for miles to hunt mice. They could never keep up, and they never knew where I went for my meals,” she said, clearly savoring the memory and the rapt attention Wells was giving her. She puffed out her chest, looking as proud as a hawk could.

“Eventually, though, I grew tired of the game. I knew I’d have to leave the nest once the worst of the winter passed, and the wolves would just follow me. I had to make them want to stop. So, I devised a plan to frighten them off for good.”

Wells rolled his eyes. “And I take it this plan was a success?”

“Obviously,” Aria chirped. “I wouldn’t be here talking to you if it wasn’t, would I? Now, be quiet and let me finish.” She dropped from his lap, landing gracefully on a branch at his eye level. “Come over here. I’m tired of craning my neck to look up at you.”

Wells bit his tongue and meekly complied. Aria settled herself on the branch. “Much better,” she said with satisfaction.

“I waited a couple of nights to put my plan into action. I wanted to go out with a bang, so I chose the night before my departure.”

“As dusk fell and the wolves finally settled into a restless sleep, I began to dismantle my nest. I took the largest twigs and carefully laid them directly in front of the Wolf Prince’s paws, so he would step on them the moment he rose. I did the same with the other twigs for the bigger, nastier-looking wolves in his pack. Then, I gathered a small pile of stones and hid them on the branches above.”

“Finally, I swooped down and slashed my talons across the Wolf Prince’s eyes. He awoke with a scream, blood streaming down his face, and as he scrambled to his feet, he stumbled right onto the twigs. They pierced his paws, just as I’d intended. As he howled, ‘Get that bird!’ I flew back into the tree and started pelting the others with stones.”

Wells raised his eyebrows, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “You certainly have a talent for getting under one’s skin.”

Aria nodded sharply. “Of course. Would you expect anything less?” she asked. “But I wasn’t done. I’d blinded the Wolf Prince, leaving him unable to walk without agonizing pain. I think I concussed a few of the others with the stones. Then, laughing the entire way, I made my escape. I ignored the Wolf Prince’s curses as they faded behind me.”

“I flew without rest for the next three days, knowing word of what I’d done would spread to other packs. I took only short naps, always in the highest branches of the tallest trees. Once I was certain I was in the clear, I eased into a more relaxed pace. Winter finally gave way to spring, and by mid-spring, I reached the Mountains.”

“Near the southern end of the range stood Mount Nenara, the highest peak in the world. It was a fortunate sight, as my wings ached from the long flight. I spotted it within two days of reaching the mountains. It was a knife-point stabbing the sky, miles high. As I began my ascent, I saw it was steeper than anything in The Crags—a sheer wall of rock.”

“So I flew. Up, and up, and up. The air grew colder with every foot I climbed, until it felt as if ice, not blood, flowed through my veins. At last, I rose above the treeline, and there, I met the Great Dragon, the Lord of the Kithara.”