Rebecca and I (Patreon)

continued to laugh heartily for several minutes. The mere notion that Burnside would ever be a symbol of inherent goodness was simply so absurd that it summoned forth endless gales of mirth from us. We collapsed on the ground, clutching our sides, barely able to breathe.

"Burnside as the new Wolf Queen??" I howled. "BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

“Are you okay?" one of the Shrub Knights rustled at me. "You've been convulsing and making that noise for almost half an hour.”

"I'm -hic- more than okay," I hiccuped. "Rebecca and -hic- and I desperately needed a laugh like -hic- that. Things have been -hic- getting far too -hic- too serious lately."

"It was -hic- a welcome relief," Rebecca agreed, "after -hic- shoveling all those corpses for -hic- for so long."

Rebecca and I got up, nursing our hiccups, and examined the bardiche which a semiconscious Burnside was clutching and drooling on.

"I -hic- wonder," I pondered aloud, "if the legendary Sun -hic- and - Moon can change size depending on -hic- on who wields it. It is -hic- magical after all. If the weapon is -hic- willing to let non-wolves wield it -hic-, then it probably wouldn’t -hic- wouldn't discriminate about height. That still leaves -hic- the distressing thought that the previous -hic- Wolf Queen, no matter her size, -hic- died in the plague of battles, meaning that -hic- I am responsible for the death of -hic- of, of one of Faeries most legendary -hic- heroes."

“You don’t know for -hic- sure that you’re -hic- responsible,” Rebecca said consolingly. “Can this magick -hic- weapon move of its own -hic- accord? Perhaps it -hic- came here in search of its new -hic- wielder.”

"It’s -hic- possible," I theorized. "However, I'm not even sure -hic- if this is the actual Sun and Moon. It could just be -hic- a very convincing reproduction."

“Quit callin’ me a hick,” Burnside mumbled sleepily. "Made me a pair o' galoshes outten the last city slicker what done it."

"I -hic- remember that," Rebecca winced.

We both pinched our noses to stifle our hiccups.

“Is dere a way to tell if it is da real Sud ad Bood?” Rebecca asked.

“Da real Sud ad Bood is ad ardifack frob da Log Ago," I explained. "Dat type of bagick is difficult to get a read od. It would take ad expert scholar of da Log Ago to tell.”

As I thought, my mind wandered for some reason to Meadow. That reliable mouse (up until she disappeared just before my trial, when I needed her most) had served as my right-hand-femme for a brief time. My conversations with her led me to believe that she had been on many adventures before meeting me. I wondered if she had ever met the famous Wolf Queen. Meadow knew the Master of Elfhame, the mysterious roebuck who was said to have held the Wolf Queen in his thrall for a while. Meadow probably could tell if this bardiche was the genuine article or not. How odd that she would pop into my mind like that, at this particular moment. It had been so long and Faerie was so unstable, Meadow was, unfortunately, probably long dead. I turned to wistfully gaze at the horizon as memories washed over me.

"It's good to see that you're finally getting this area opened up again," Meadow remarked. “Has anyone happened to find a double bardiche laying around?”

"-hic-" I exclaimed in surprise.

. . .

Well well well, gentle listeners! What a surprise twist this is! It raises a lot of questions, doesn't it? Where has Meadow been all these years? Why is she dressed like that? Is it the real Wolf Queen armor or is it a disguise? How did she become the new Wolf Queen, if it is real? What circumstances led her to wear such a disguise if it’s fake? There are so many possibilities! Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves what you think the answers are! BUT! Remember, no cheating! I'm looking at you, the one with note cards. Put those away.

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