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Chapter Fifty-Four

The Princess and the Knave

Margaret winced as the scraggly branch scratched her face, but she bit down the urge to yelp. Unfurling her wings in an attempt to keep her balance, she crawled along the thick bough, taking care to keep her distance from Nibs. This tree was strong, she knew, but there was no telling if its branches could hold both their weights at any given point.

The forest was lust and verdant, and it was not as difficult to move through the trees as she had originally anticipated. Granted, she had wings that ensured she wouldn't fall, but it was surprising how swiftly the pair of them were able to traverse the canopy as they made their way to the nearest hill. Not that they wouldn't have made faster progress on the ground, mind you, but she did not fancy being turned into a snack by the roving packs of wolves.

They were likely feral and starving, and Margaret had a sneaking suspicion that her wings made her smell like a goose.

Ahead of her, Nibs reached the edge of the branch and, in a single fluid motion, leapt to the nearest perch. The new branch dipped beneath his weight with an alarming creak, and his eyes grew wide. For a moment, it looked as if he would yell, and then he breathed a sigh of relief as it steadied.

"Careful," he called in a wavery voice, "This one isn't that sturdy."

With a stiff nod, Margaret made her way towards the edge of her own bough. Idly, she recalled her brother telling her of how he survived in the wilds of Amoré, and she suppressed the urge to sigh. She was a princess, and this was as undignified a life as one of her birth could live, but she had to bite her tongue and keep going. Spreading her wings, she gently glided past Nibs' perch, the breezing teasing at her hair as she landed lightly against the trunk. A stray twig scraped at her arm, and she winced at the squelch of something slippery beneath her boot.

"Show off," he muttered, and she stuck her nose into the air at his almost mocking tone.

"You sound jealous, vagabond," she retorted. "Unhappy that I was given wings and all you have are floppy ears?"

"Wings would make me miserable," he replied in a dull voice. "I'm not a fan of flying, princess."

She did not miss the inflection in his voice, nor the strained expression he wore. Margaret opened her mouth to speak, but before the first word could leave her lips, he was gone, crawling ahead with his back turned to her. An uncouth rapscallion he may be, but he was never quite like this… all grim and sullen and blanched of colour. Once, when she'd forgotten herself and her newfound strength, she'd seen him cold and angry, but this was something else entirely. Strange, but, in the same vein, she realized that she didn't know him well enough to pry.

We are still strangers, he and I, thrown together from common course but with little interest in each other. She shook herself at the thought, realizing that he was getting ahead of her. Keeping her wings unfurled, she crawled after him, paying special mind to the forest around her as she did so. It was unusually quiet, but the wolves were likely still near.

In silence, the pair moved from tree to tree. The gaps between the branches grew as they neared the outskirts, and they would reach the hill soon. Not that arriving at their hill would change anything. They were still lost without weapons in a land without magic, and unless he was hiding something from her, they had no idea of where to go or how to get her. If the wolves had not been present, she would likely have poked him for his ineptitude. This entire plan was more foolish than she could comprehend.

How could a person as old as Nibs not have known his powers would be nullified by this land? The only explanation, to her mind, was that he was rather daft, but if he had indeed been without brains, how could Peter Pan have nominated him as a successor? Things were not adding up, and Margaret did not like it one bit.

Crack!

"Shit!"

Nibs' voice echoed through the forest, and almost immediately, the wolves began to howl. Margaret jumped, spreading her wings as the bough collapsed beneath her, and acting almost on instinct, she grasped Nibs by the ankle. He yelled, thrashing about as though possessed, and she strained to maintain her grip as she beat her wings. He was lighter than she'd expected, but not so light that her wings could maintain his weight in addition to her own.

"Stop squirming," she snapped, trying and failing to ascend higher into the air. Her wings beat at the air in a frenzy, and below, she glimpsed blurs of matted fur and bared fangs as the wolves darted through the trees. "Nibs! Nibs!"

For all the impact her words had, she may as well have saved her breath. Nibs jerked and thrashed in her grasp, almost kicking her several times in the process. He yelled, louder and louder each time, and Margaret groaned as she clamped her fingers around his ankle so tightly that her nails dug deep furrows into his skin.

"Nibs," she yelled, narrowly avoiding flying into the canopy of a thorny tree. "Nibs, you're going to make me drop you."

For a moment, he seemed to come to himself, and he looked up at her with an expression of abject horror. His chest heaved, though he stilled, and he shook his head.

"Don't you dare." His voice shook like a leaf in a gale. "Don't you bloody dare."

Margaret gritted her teeth and nodded. Her shoulders hurt, and though the hill was near, she wasn't sure she'd be able to make it while carrying him like this. Glancing down at him, she frowned, trying to think of what to do. Trying to land in a tree was a bad idea, and going to ground was an even worse one. They'd need to get there by flying, but he was getting heavier by the second. Think, Margaret, think. Maybe? It had been so many years since her father had been able to carry Christopher and herself by their ankles, and he'd stopped when they'd gotten too heavy… but he'd still been able to carry them.

"Trust me, okay?" she said.

"Trust you?" Nibs' yelled up. "Oh, no, no, noooooooo—"

Margaret swung him forward with enough force to send him spinning up to her, and she let go at the very last second. He screamed, and she reached out to wrap her arms around his chest the second it was level with hers. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, and then shuddered as his screaming maw came to rest right beside her ear. She dipped in the air as he scrambled onto her and wound his arms and legs around her so tightly that she feared he'd never untangle himself, and they very nearly went tumbling as he inadvertently grasped a fistful of her feathers. She hissed, and he let go just in time.

"Behave, you knave," she scolded, recovering as they began to rise into the air. "You're holding a princess!"

"You tossed me through the air like a sack of potatoes!" he hollered, nearly deafening her once again.

"Yell in my ear one more time and I swear…"

Nibs swallowed, and he nodded, his chin digging into her shoulder as he did so. She winced before biting her lip. Now was not the time, as evidenced by the feral howls from down below. Rising through the sky, she beat her wings as the distant hill began to draw ever nearer.

The hill was a rough outcropping of rock with walls too sheer to climb, and a dusty plateau that offered little in the way of comfort. Still, Margaret reasoned, as she huddled beneath the shade of a large slab, it was safer than being on the ground below. Her shoulders ached from having to carry Nibs, but it would not kill her. Her stomach growled, and her throat was as dry as bone, but neither hunger nor thirst could kill her either. Still… it would be nice to have some water. Even a sip.

"Thank you, by the way," said Nibs from where he lay sprawled across the sandy ground, his ears twitching between the sparse blades of grass. "Figured I should thank you for not dropping me."

"Of course I wouldn't drop you," she muttered. "You're annoying. But… annoying company is better than being alone."

"Annoying company?" He turned onto his side, propping up his head with his arm. "I take that as an improvement over uncouth lout."

"I must have said it wrong," she said, the hint of a smile curling across her lips. "I assure you, I meant it with all the usual offense."

"I'm sure you did." Nibs chuckled. "Tsar Luna above, this has been one disaster after another, hasn't it?" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he shook his head. "If Peter were still around, we'd have been done by yesterday."

She opened her mouth to correct his grammar and bit her tongue. Let it go. Now's not the time, she told herself. A slight chill crept through the air as the evening sun dipped behind a bank of clouds. It would be a cold night, she realized, and they'd need fire if they wanted to be comfortable. Could he make fire without magic? She knew that she couldn't.

Breathing a weary sigh, she sank back against the stone. He was right. This was one disaster after another, and worst of all, she didn't see any way of improving things. They were in a strange land without their magic, and, even if they had weapons, neither of them had the skill to use them. The knowledge that she was completely out of her element was of little comfort. She should have asked more questions before they'd left… done whatever research she could to make sure that they wouldn't find themselves in exactly this situation.

It was his fault as well, but judging by the look on his face, Nibs knew that all too well.

"Maybe if I were a better Guardian, we wouldn't be in this situation," she said, gnawing on her lower lip. "Maybe if… he'd raised someone better… someone more…"

"You'll get the hang of it," said Nibs, and there was a soft hint to his tone that she almost missed. "If anything, I should be the one beating myself up over this. If I'd been a better heir to Neverland, we definitely wouldn't be in this mess. I learned a lot from Peter, but, I'm realizing now that I didn't learn nearly enough."

"You miss him."

It was a statement, not a question, and she phrased it as such. A part of her worried about the turn this conversation was taking, because the path ahead housed things she would rather not share. Yet, how could she not try to offer comfort in this time? She missed people as well. Her father. Her brother. The dwarves. Pooh. Even her mother…For all her faults, and for all that Margaret insisted she hated the woman…she missed her as well.

"Of course I miss him," said Nibs with a shrug. "Peter Pan was the closest thing I ever had to a dad. Heck, he was my dad. I'm sure you know the story, Margaret. You know them all, thanks to that book of yours."

"I've barely skimmed the surface," she said, shaking her head. "I haven't been raised long enough to know them all just yet."

He made a strange sound that was half-snort and half-sigh, and she flopped back onto his back. She watched as he folded his arms behind his head, looking up at the scattering of stars that had begun to glimmer across the darkening sky.

"I'm sure you'll read it eventually," he said. "Suffice to say, Tink and Peter were the only parents I ever knew, and Peter's shoes aren't easily filled, least of all by me."

"Hey," she said, sticking out her leg to nudge his shoulder with the tip of her boot. "You're doing the best you can, uncouth knave that you are. The Godmother alone knows that we wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"If we're playing that game, princess." Quick as a flash, he stuck out a hand to poke her in the shin. "I'd have been eaten by wolves if not for you."

She raised an eyebrow at the poke, and then she nudged him again. "See. We're not completely useless, are we?"

"Not at all," he answered without hesitation. "Just mostly useless, I guess."

"I'd prefer we phrased it as somewhat useful," she replied with a wan smile. A chill breeze ghosted across her face, teasing at her stray strands of hair, and she shivered. "Now get up. We need to build a fire before we freeze."

Margaret climbed to her feet and winced as she left the relative safety of the rocks. The wind was harsher than she'd expected, and it would only grow colder as the night grew older. What does one need for a fire? Logs? Sticks? She frowned. In all her life, she had never started a fire on her own. Even in her castle, the hearth was always already blazing when she woke. Idly, she began to pick up as many dry branches as she could see, though she noted that there weren't all that many atop their hill.

When her arms were full, she turned to see Nibs crouched on the ground beside a small pile of leaves. He moved swiftly, ripping the leaves into small pieces with practised ease and bundling them together with tufts of dried grass.

"Going to need those a little smaller," he said, glancing up at her armful of branches.

And? She wanted to ask, even as she breathed a sigh and sank to her knees. She snapped the branches with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, fighting the growing urge to return to her nook between the rocks and leave Nibs to the manual labour. Granted, this was not a difficult task… but it was the principle of the matter.

It took her longer than she'd expected, and her fingers had grown numb from the cold. When she finally looked up from her task with her breath misting out of her mouth and splinters in the palms of her hands, she found Nibs watching her in amusement.

"You've never done this before, have you?" he asked, his expression making it clear that he was fighting the urge to laugh.

"What gave it away?" She shook her head, wondering how ridiculous she had appeared to anyone who'd been watching her for the past few minutes.

"Well, we all start somewhere," he said, pulling out a piece of flint and a blade no bigger than his finger. "Now, watch and learn."

With swift, practised strokes, he dragged the blade along the flint, releasing a stream of sparks onto the shredded leaves. No sooner did the blade reach the end did he repeat the movement, and as far as she could see, nothing was happening. Oh, the sparks settled onto the leaves, but there was not so much as a whiff of smoke to signify actual fire.

"Are you sure you're doing this right?" she asked, leaning in to try and get a better look.

"Patience is a virtue," he said, rolling his eyes. "Just watch."

She pursed her lips as he continued, quite certain that he was indeed missing something. Dried leaves would serve as tinder, she supposed, but it was certainly not the most flammable substance in the world. Did he know something she didn't? Obviously, she thought to herself. She wouldn't even know how to use a piece of flint, let alone create such a steady stream of sparks.

Margaret smelled smoke before she saw the flame, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Nibs, for his part, barely seemed to notice her reaction. He moved swiftly, bundling the leaves together between his hands and blowing, and glimmers of red-orange light danced across the leaves. Quickly, he began stacking the smallest twigs around the bundle, and not once did he stop blowing.

"See," he muttered as the flames began to lick at the branches. "It just takes a little patience."

Between the crackling fire and the rough shelter of the rocks, the night was almost cozy… so long as you squinted from a great distance.

Margaret huddled into her nook, her knees drawn up to her chin, and her arms outstretched to warm her hands. Across from her, Nibs leaned against the rocks, his eyes half-closed and his ears twitching. It was amusing, she thought, how he could look so very human until she looked at his head. All things considered, the ears weren't even all that bad, she decided.

"I can see you staring," he said, tilting his head in her direction. "Something on your mind?"

"Your ears never stop twitching," she said with a shrug. "I just noticed."

"It's because I'm always listening," he replied. "These things aren't just for show, you know. I have excellent hearing."

"Oh?" The girl she'd once been couldn't help but be intrigued. That was quite the talent. Nibs would never fit into a royal court, uncouth and fuzzy-eared as he was, but… maybe with a hood and a few years worth under the tutelage of her governess. There'd be no end to the secrets he could uncover.

"Just how much do you hear, Nibs?" she asked, careful to mask her piqued interest. "Nothing scandalous, I would hope?"

"Fishing for gossip, Margaret?" he replied with a chuckle. "How unbecoming of a princess of your rank and stature."

"And how unlike an uncouth rapscallion to not share whatever salacious rumours he happens to hear," she replied, quick as a whip. She dipped her head as she spoke, raising her arm to hide her cheeks behind her sleeve. It would never do to let him see the flushed tinge of red that his words had evoked.

Nibs laughed, shaking his head. He reached forward to dump a fresh bundle of wood onto their fire, and the light caught his eyes, making them look like pools of melting gold. Her blush intensified, and she shook herself for noticing such a thing. They were strangely captivating, though, that she couldn't deny. Eyes of liquid gold. She had never seen such a thing before.

"Liquid gold, huh?" he said, sounding amused. "That's a new one."

"Excuse me?" She started, her eyes widening in horror. "You! How did you?" Her cheeks blazed as understanding dawned. "Nibs! You absolute gutter-rat! How dare you glimpse into my mind! You… you… you uncouth, rude, boundary-stomping, nonsensic—"

"I did no such thing," he countered, wagging a finger in her direction. "I don't have my magic in this land, remember."

She gaped. Had she just said that aloud, then? The horror was etched upon her face, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to wear another expression. Oh, this was simply mortifying. Sucking in a breath to try and gather herself, she looked away from him, not wanting to see that shit-eating grin he was so fond of plastering to his face.

"In that case, I apologise," she said stiffly. "I should not have called you a gutter rat."

"Apology accepted." Nibs laughed. "Come on now. Compliment me some more. It's a great confidence boost."

"Or maybe you could explain what we're going to do tomorrow," she countered in as stern a voice as she could muster. This topic needed to be buried as deeply as possible, and the subject needed an immediate change. "We can't stay on this hill forever."

He sobered at her words, and she did not like the change. If he was as lost as she was, then they were in deeper trouble than she'd thought, and that did not bode well. Breathing a sigh, she rolled her shoulders. If all else failed, they probably could still fly. They wouldn't make the best distance, and they'd need to rest often, but it was an option. It was just not one she looked forward to. Strong as she was and slight as he was, he still weighed more than she did, and Margaret did not relish having to carry him.

"We need to go west," said Nibs. "Sun rises in the east, so we'll know which way that is at dawn, and then we go that way until we get to one of the rivers that feed the lake at the base of the World Tree. Planted by Peter, it's sworn to aid the Lord of Neverland. Once we're there, it's smooth sailing."

"West?" Margaret cringed. "Nibs, we landed on the East Coast. Do you have any idea how far away our goal is?"

"I know," he muttered. "My bad, honestly. I didn't expect my powers to be disabled here, you know. Your powers? Yeah, I knew they'd be gone, but I'm not a Guardian. I underestimated the power of the World Tree. Just one more bit of proof that I'm not Peter."

She sighed. So, they were back on this topic. It was a change from her embarrassment, at least, but this was not something she liked to dwell on, especially when she wasn't alone. It was perplexing, she thought, that she so loathed solitude, yet when she grieved, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Princesses don't cry, she recalled, but the memory only intensified the sting. Her governess had been a strict woman with little humor, but the old crone had been one of the constants in her former life all the same.

"It is never easy to lose a parent," she said in what she hoped was a diplomatic voice. "The shoes that they leave are often impossible to fill."

"How did you manage?" he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. "When…"

"I didn't." She shook her head. "Regina trapped me in the mirror mere moments after I found out about Father's death. Looking back, I can barely remember my grief. The days started to blur together very quickly, and the Mirror World is a prison like no other." She sucked in a breath. "You cannot die. You're hungry and you're thirsty, but you don't need food or water. I recall once using my earrings to cut open my wrists. It must have been a year into my imprisonment, and I'd given up hope of ever escaping. My skin stitched back up right in front of my eyes. I'm not sure how long I kept cutting."

Her eyes grew wet, and she wiped them with the back of her sleeve.

"It was not even that I was alone," she continued. "I'd lost Father. I thought Christopher and Mother were dead. I didn't manage. I just shut down after a while. I don't even know what I'd have done if Christopher hadn't accidentally stumbled into my prison world. I may well have gone mad and become just one more voice in Regina's mirror."

"Huh," said Nibs. To Margaret's surprise, he reached out and squeezed her knee. "You really are tougher than I give you credit for."

"And you're not Peter Pan," she replied, "But you're doing your best, and you're upset, but you're not a wreck. I mean, my father was one of the greatest kings that Renvale ever knew, but I don't think he was that good on his first day. I think you'll get there with time as well, Nibs."

"That just might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he replied with a wan smile. "Is this the part where you tell me not to get used to it?"

Against all odds, she laughed through her tears. "Of course."

"Of course."

The moon was nearing its apex, and Nibs found himself in that hazy realm between dreams and waking. Even with the fire, it was colder than he'd have liked, and he shivered as he pulled his coat closer around him. The rocks were not comfortable, and try as he might, he couldn't lull himself to sleep while lying across them. They were a shield from the wind, at least.

Well, it could always be worse. At least it wasn't raining.

Nibs thrust out a hand, trying to get as comfortable as he could, and his fingers brushed against feathers. He jerked back his arm, hoping he hadn't woken her. Margaret was a handful at the best of times, and he really didn't want to have to deal with her when she was deprived of sleep.

He didn't know what to make of the girl. She was vain and spoilt, but he stood by his words… she was tougher than he gave her credit for. Sure, she bitched and whined about almost everything, and she had an absolutely appalling sense of taste if the garish pink monstrosity she called a house was anything to go by, but she had a spine that would break before it bent. As far as he was concerned, that was worth a lot.

Still, he couldn't deny that he'd rather be travelling with… well, there were a lot of people he'd rather be making this journey with: Cubby, Tootles, the Twins, hell, even Slightly, glib brat that he was. At the end of the day, even Jane would be a better partner to have out here, but getting her to come would mean trying to pry her away from Tootles, and that would take more effort than he was willing to spend. They were the people he'd grown up with, the first of the Lost Boys, and the first and only Lost Girl. He could rely on them just as he'd once relied on Peter, and truthfully, he didn't know if he could rely on Margaret that way.

It's best I left them out of this, though, he thought, stifling a sigh. If Tsar Luna loses his patience with our meddling, it's just Margaret and I that will face his wrath. He swallowed thickly. It's only a matter of time, though. The Lost Boys were loyal to Peter, not Manny, and when the chips were down, Nibs knew whose side they'd stand on.

The thought was enough to twist his stomach into a knot. He'd never wanted this, to be the one gambling with the lives of his friends. He'd never wanted to be the leader, to be the Lord of Neverland. Heck, he didn't even want to be on the ground. This crown is too heavy, these boots are too big. I'm out of my depth, and I can barely keep my head above water. All of that was true, but what other choice did he have with all of creation hanging in the balance?

How could he not finish what Peter gave his life to see through?

Nibs closed his eyes as his teeth began to chatter. It was getting colder, and his coat was not big enough to double as a blanket. Curling himself into a ball, he pulled at the fabric in an attempt to cover as much of himself as he could. Don't go out, he urged the fire, glancing at the flickering flames. Don't you dare go out.

A whimper echoed through the night, and his ears twitched at the sound. Glancing up, he realized the sound was coming from Margaret. She was fast asleep, her body curled into a small nook between two rocks, and her wings were sprawled across the stone. They were rather majestic, he noted, but his attention was on her face: scrunched up and shivering, her whimpers growing louder as she shook.

Bad dreams, he realized. Nibs couldn't blame her for them. Sweet dreams were few and far between in a world without Sandy, and the Nightmares grew stronger with every passing night.

Scratch.

His ears twitched, and he stiffened. What was that? He closed his eyes, focusing as hard as he could, and he heard it again. And again. And again. The pauses between the scratches kept growing shorter, and every few breaths, he heard the crackle of gravel tumbling against stone. It was almost like…

Nibs leapt to his feet just in time to see the first pair of glowing eyes emerge over the edge of the hill, and a chill ran down his spine. Even in the dim light of the moon, he could see the matted fur and curved fangs, and he took a panicked step back. These are no ordinary wolves.

"Margaret!" he yelled, as more eyes rose up from the darkness, and more shaggy silhouettes crept across the plateau. "Get up!"

The words had barely left his lip when the first beast began to run, and he acted on instinct. His knife was no bigger than the palm of his hand, but it was the best he could do. Drawing it, he jumped as the wolf barrelled towards him. Landing lightly on it's back, he launched himself into the air as the wolf slammed into the rocks behind him. It whined, a shrill sound, and the other wolves lunged.

Out the corner of his eye, Nibs was dimly aware of Margaret shrieking as she brandished a burning branch from their fire. Then, the wolves were on him. He sidestepped the first before somersaulting over the second, and with the devil's own luck on his side, he managed to flip himself over a third. Landing on his hands, he spun around as the first wolf lunged at him, balancing on one hand to keep himself from becoming wolf chow. I can't dodge forever. No sooner did the thought cross his mind than a black shadow crash into him, knocking the wind from him and driving him to the ground. His blade went clattering across the plateau, disappearing into the night. Sour breath washed across his face as a large paw pressed into his chest, the claws ripping into his shirt. Swiftly, Nibs snapped his leg up, kicking out hard enough to knock the beast off of him.

Margaret screamed, and Nibs whirled in time to see her go down. One of the wolves had pinned her, and she was shrieking blue murder as it snapped at her face. She clutched it by the jaw, one hand on each lip, forcing the wolf to keep its maw open, but the rest of the pack was still circling.

He broke into a sprint, vaulting over the first wolf to try and block his path and landing nimbly before swinging out his leg in a perfect roundhouse, catching the wolf pinning Margaret in the jaw. It howled as its head snapped to the side, and Nibs immediately followed his kick with a swift punch to the side. The wolf went flying, slamming into the rocks and crumpling.

"Get up." He was gasping for breath. Strong as he was, Nibs was no fighter, and he knew it. Swiftly grasping her by the hand, he yanked her to her feet. "And get behind me."

Maintaining his grasp on her wrist, he shoved her behind his back as he whirled to face the approaching wolves, and with his free hand, he began digging around in his pocket. We're going to get eaten. His fingers closed around the green stone, and moving faster than he ever had in his life, he held it up into the air. Green light erupted across the plateau as the Heart of Mother Nature blazed in his grasp, and he squeezed Margaret's wrist. Trust me, he wanted to say, just trust me and play along.

"Get back," he yelled, waving the Keystone as the wolves. "Get back before I use this."

To his sheer shock, it worked. The wolves backed away, their hackles raised, their eyes frenzied. Godmother, it was working. He couldn't even do anything with this bloody thing, not in this land at any rate, but the light show seemed to be enough. He released a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, and behind him, Margaret did the same.

"I'm warning you lot," he yelled, waving the Keystone around. "You have no idea the damage this can do." None at all, but you beasts don't know that, do you?

The lead wolf stepped forward. It was a sleek beast, all black fur and hate-filled eyes, with fangs as sharp as daggers and claws as long as knives. The wind spiralled across the plateau, and Nibs took another step back as a flurry of leaves and feathers wafted to the wolf's ear. It cocked its head, and then, its fur rippled.

Not liking the look of things, he thrust the Keystone towards the wolf warningly, letting his expression do the talking. Mostly because he didn't trust himself to speak without stammering. The wolf considered him, and then, it took a step forward. It lifted its paw into the air, and when it put it down, it was a clenched fist. Nibs blinked, his jaw going slack as the black fur melted into the lead wolf's skin. Bones constricted and shifted, aligning into their proper places, and in less than a minute, a naked copper-skinned youth was standing in the spot once occupied by the wolf.

Margaret squeaked in alarm, averting her eyes, and Nibs took another step back, urging her to move as well. This was… he didn't know what this was, but if the Beasts of Amoré were anything to go by, he really didn't trust a person who could freely transform into one. He glanced up at the moon, and to his surprise, he noted that the moon was not full. Not a werewolf either. What devilry is this?

The naked wolf-man grinned at them, flashing his teeth, and behind him, the pack snapped, their bared fangs dripping with saliva. A flurry of petals and leaves spiralled around the man's ear, and he chuckled.

"Noah Miller, Margaret Charming," he said, and despite the circumstances, Nibs winced at the use of his proper name. "I am Riverwind, son of Chieftess Pocahontas. Grandmother Willow has been expecting you."