She finally opened her restaurant, their restaurant. And it is everything she has ever wanted, a successful little bistro on the same street she used to live at with her dad. They had considered dozens of silly, cheesy names before settling on the somewhat still cheesy name The Magic Mirror.

Virginia manages everything and takes care of the finances. Wolf handles all of the meat that comes through and is served, Virginia has to constantly convince him not to leave all of the steak they serve completely uncooked. They spend months looking for the best and most responsible chiefs and waitresses, because they can't be there all the time. They have to take care of their son.

After Virginia found out she was pregnant, there was a frenzy of worries and lists of things that needed to be accomplished. Wolf worried over her constantly, sometimes making Virginia frustrated with the relentlessness of it. Virginia just wanted it to come naturally to her, she didn't want to have to read dozens of parenting and labor books to comfort herself, like Wolf did. Instead she flipped through an enormous book of baby names, looking for the perfect name for the boy who was sleeping inside of her.

She is into her third trimester before she finds it: Ralph. The book tells her that the name means "wise wolf". When she tells Wolf about the name, he is delighted. Curling up next to her on the couch and rubbing her large stomach gently, whispering to the child that will soon come out and meet them.

And Ralph is born a perfect, perfect little boy. Seven pounds, eight ounces. All ten fingers and ten toes. He doesn't have a tail, which Wolf explains is because he is only a quarter wolf. Still, he has the same thick, dark hair that curls up at the ends when left uncombed, and he has the same eyes that can look golden under certain lighting. When Wolf holds Ralph for the first time, the three of them cry together. They are so happy. So happy. Virginia falls asleep watching them, her two boys, and it is a memory that is one of her favorites to this day.

Ralph is six now, and so smart. He loves animals, and his yellow-painted room is filled with books about them. They don't lie to him about anything, he believes in the magic they tell him about, and listens to stories of his wolf ancestors, and about the true history behind the fairytales he loves. This is a belief he won't outgrow, not like most children. Ralph especially likes it when they act out fairytale stories for him, though Wolf seems to enjoy her performance as Little Red Riding Hood a little too much.

Virginia sometimes sneaks out of bed at night to check on her son's sleeping figure, making sure that his face is full of peace and warmth, that he has no nightmares filling up his head. Like she used to have when she was a little girl. (But Virginia hardly thinks about that time anymore, when she felt lonely and unlovable. Everything is so different now.) And he is, peaceful.

By the time she has crept back into their bedroom, Wolf is usually half-awake. Lazily opening his eyes long enough sleepily grin at her in that cheeky way he is best at, and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. Muttering something inaudible into her hair, sniffing her and kissing her neck and somehow drawing her even closer. Always making her shiver deliciously before they both fall asleep again.

As Ralph gets older, Wolf has begun taking him on camping trips. They ask her to come along, and true Virginia does feel left out when they are gone, but she knows that this is their father-son bonding time and how important it is to Wolf to teach his son about the forest and the wild. When they return, they are filthy and beaming, their hair sticking up in tufts, and they always hand her a little present they found on the way. Wild flowers, or fresh herbs they picked for her that she'll use for dinner that night.

Wolf grins at her, and when Ralph has gone off to get ready for his bath, pulls her close enough to rub his scruffy cheek against her own before kissing her deeply.

And she is happy, so happy.