Argh

[maderr]

This story is like pulling teeth. Also, I suspect it will require a part two *sigh*

All f'ing day, and I got what, seve pages done? Still, it was nice being lazy. Do not want to go stupid fucking work tomorrow.



"I don't know," Grosvenor replied, "but I do know that no one besides Gretel, Annie, and I live here. I do not bake, and Gretel would never make gingerbread. Where, then, did it come from?" He crushed the cookie in his fist, then threw the crumbs into the brook. "We must find her, and hope that I am wrong, or that we are not too late."

At least he was saying 'we' Ulrich thought. "Now I've a scent to follow," he said, "I'll see what I can do." Shifting back to his wolf form, he put his nose to the ground and hunted for the smell of gingerbread.

He found one more bit of it, some hours later when afternoon had given over to evening. They would have to stop soon, and he could see Grosvenor knew it—and did not like it.

He examined the bit of sweet he held, a bright green hard candy. All their hours of searching, and it was the only thing they had found. Disgusted, he dropped it to the ground again and stretched his tired limbs. "I do not get it. Where in the hell could they be? Surely you have some idea, huntsman. Is this not your wood?"

Grosvenor grunted. "I see you do not know much about the Great Forest."

"I know nothing about it," Ulrich confessed with a shrug. "I know people mutter superstitiously about it; I could not even get anyone to guide me through it. They call it something else across the border, I do not recall what."

"The Laughing Forest," Grosvenor said. "They say that portions of the Great Forest are haunted by laughing ghosts. Others say the forest itself is laughing at unwary travelers. Out this way…well, there is no laughing, but sometimes the silence is too deep. Like now."

Ulrich had already noted that, but he'd been trying to ignore it. If he were in wolf form, his hackles would be up. "So maybe we're getting close, despite the lack of a trail to follow?"

"Maybe," Grosvenor replied. "If one considers being caught in a web getting close to the spider."

"Lovely," Ulrich said, grimacing. "Why would an old woman who preys upon children live so deep in the woods?"

"He who seeks the path never finds it, he who waits for the path is never found, he who follows the path travels with ease."

Ulrich grunted. "Try too hard, or too little, and you get nothing. It's children she tempts, so they have no trouble finding her." He shuddered. "Why would anyone want to eat the flesh of her own kind? Why children?"

"Innocence," Grosvenor said, as he swung his pack off his back and began to make camp. "Mages all require power of some sort to work their spells. Certain…aspects of people…are power in their own right and can be contorted to a mage's purpose. Innocence is one of them, and most often found in the young, especially children. Even Annie, despite being almost eaten alive by a feral shifter, still possessed some innocence."

"I am sorry a fellow Guard would do such a terrible thing," Ulrich replied. "You showed him more honor than he deserved in returning his skin and collar to the castle."

Grosvenor shrugged. "It's ingrained," he said. "So you came out here to find the reason for his death?"

"Yes," Ulrich replied, wondering when the grouchiness would return, and why it ad momentarily subsided. Maybe he was simply too tired to keep it up, for it had been an extremely long day so far. "Once we find the girl, I will return to the castle and never trouble you again. So what other bad experiences have you had with wolves?"

"Another one came through this area a couple years ago, killed two men and nearly the third – brothers, all of them. Masons, by profession. The villages around these parts still mourn their loss, especially since the third brother just couldn't stay after his two younger ones were killed. Then that man-eater came around…"

Ulrich nodded. "That is two of three—what of the last?"

"None of your business," Grosvenor snapped, sour temper returning abruptly. He all but threw food in Ulrich's direction.

Rolling his eyes, Ulrich accepted the food and made short work of more jerky, cheese, and a sort of sweet flatbread. "Shouldn't we make a fire for you?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Grosvenor replied. "We have the same accent, as you have pointed out."

Ulrich grinned. "You've been down in these softy lowlands longer than me, huntsman. You could have gotten soft."

Grosvenor gave him a withering look, and said nothing, merely finished eating his own food as around them the forest grew increasingly dark. When dark finally took over completely, even his sharp vision could not pick out much detail in the figure sleeping only a couple of arm lengths away.

Damn it, he wished the man would remove that infuriating talisman. He could understand it if they thought there were feral wolves to fear, or something along those lines, but they were hunting a witch. Witches didn't need scent to find people. Being a wild mage, Grosvenor would know that. So why keep the talisman now that he knew he had nothing to fear from Ulrich?

Trust, of course. Ulrich could not blame him, though he would have though the bonds of the highlands enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. It could be fear as much as trust, though he didn't see what Grosvenor had to fear from anyone. A huntsman born and raised as a highlands wild mage. Back home, that was no idle thing. Hell, as often as not, they were marked for marriage to one pack or clan or another the day they were born—in the oldest clans, before they were born.

Which made him wonder what in the hell a lone highlands wild mage was doing in a spooky forest in the lowlands? Had he been banished for something? Was he hiding from something? Perhaps his grouchy wild mage was far more than he appeared…

He wondered how much snarling would result if he dared to ask.

"Don’t you ever sleep, wolf?" came the sharp voice, as if summoned by his thoughts.

Ulrich smiled in the dark. "Occasionally. My thoughts keep me occupied. Are they disturbing you as well?"

"Wolves disturb me," Grosvenor snapped, "especially wolves who will not sleep when by all rights they should be dead to the world."

At that, Ulrich did yawn, but still he could feel his thoughts jittering about in his head. "What is a wild mage doing all the way down here?" he asked. "I am astonished your family let you leave; surely there must have been bids on your hand."

"It's none of your business," Grosvenor snarled.

If Ulrich were able to smell him, he did not doubt Grosvenor would smell like pure, violent fury at that moment. "My apologies," he said. "It is not my place to pry, you are correct. I miss my homeland, is all, and meeting you stirred thoughts of it." He sighed in the dark, staring up at the shadows of the trees, the hints of starlight beyond the thick canopy. "Being the youngest of seven, even in the Alpha family, I was never going to contract a notable mate. I volunteered to serve the King before they could make me."

No, so low in rank, he would be lucky if he was not married off to tidy up some minor deal or another, and sent to join another Pack. It's what the extra sons and daughters were for, after all. Still, so long as he had a home of his own, and a nice mate, he would call himself content.

If sometimes he wished he were as important as his eldest brothers, well, that was his own dumb fault. He was a seventh son—useful for the pesky little things. Such was highland life.

"There are worse things to be than the seventh son of the Schwarzenberg Alpha," Grosvenor said, breaking into his wandering thoughts.

"I know," Ulrich replied. "I have no complaints. I only meant that being in a low position, with no chance at prestige, I had to wonder why someone who obviously would have qualified as a prestigious marriage would choose instead to live in the lowlands. But, as you said, it's none of my business."

On impulse, he shifted, then curled up on the forest floor to at last finally try and sleep, though it was still some time before his thoughts settled enough he was able.

He woke a few hours later to a niggling sense of wrongness mingled with a strange feeling of rightness.

Placing either feeling proved impossible for a moment. Then he realized the wrongness came from the air itself. There was…something…in it that didn't belong there. He couldn't smell it, which definitely set his senses off. Magic?

The rightness was far more disconcerting. Sometime in the night, he had moved to sleep right up against Grosvenor.

Sometimes after that, it would seem, Grosvenor had shifted onto his side to twine around Ulrich, and thrown an arm over him. While Ulrich was in wolf form.

That set off bells that even managed to drowned out the sense of wrong in the air.

Even in the highlands, were wolves were a common sight, most humans were never completely comfortable with the wolf packs. Oh, they were comfortable enough, but he could count on one hand the number of humans he knew who were comfortable enough with wolves they would curl up with one, while shifted, in sleep.

That took being raised with wolves at a level few humans required.

Whatever his current feelings on wolves, at some point in his life Grosvenor had been perfectly at home with them. Being a wild mage as well, that stirred up all sorts of fascinating questions.

Unfortunately, getting answers would have to wait, as that feeling of wrongness was growing worse.

Growling softly, he shifted to human form—right as Grosvenor's eyes opened.

Autumn eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then they filled with fury, as Grosvenor's face turned red, and Ulrich rolled away before he wound up with a knife in his gullet. "There's something wrong."

"Yes," Grosvenor replied. "You're still breathing."

"Not what I meant. We'll discuss that—"

"Shut up!" Grosvenor cut in, and Ulrich realized he finally sensed it. He looked around, turning in a slow, careful circle, then said in a flat tone, "The forest has changed. We've been moved, or the forest moved around us."

"What?" Ulrich looked at him, then took a closer look at their surrounding. It was still fairly dark, but growing lighter, and he could just barely see that Grosvenor was right. Though it still smelled much the same, the changes so minute he had not noticed them, their surroundings were not what they had been before. "How is this possible? Even with magic…"

"I told you, the forest is a strange one," Grosvenor replied. "Some say it is a sentient being all its own, having absorbed so much magic through the centuries. Or maybe all the magic came from the forest, once upon a time. Who can say? But we are in trouble, because now I have no idea where we are, and if it continues to change on us each time we rest—we may never find our way back to the safer parts of it." He shook his head. "I have seen strange things in the forest, but never this."

Ulrich looked at him. "You really do not need to sound so impressed, under the circumstances. What do you mean you're lost? You're a huntsman."

"You're a highland wolf," Grosvenor shot back. "It's impossible for your lot to get lost."

Remembering one particularly delightful occasion upon which his brothers had gotten him drunk and then quite neatly lost him in the woods where he'd grown up, Ulrich found this statement amusing at best. Especially when he knew they had done it to each other, in a longstanding family tradition of affectionate humiliation. He snorted. "I never made that claim, I assure you. Depending on what I've had to drink, and how much I was permitted to have, I could get lost in my own home."

Grosvenor turned sharply away, but Ulrich thought he caught a bit of a smile.

So his wild mage could smile. He wondered if he could Grosvenor to laugh, as well.

His levity died as he heard and smelled something in the trees. Then silence. Not taking any chances, he shifted to his wolf form and growled low. Nearby, he heard Grosvenor draw and ready his bow.

Mud, he thought. He could smell mud. Not unusual in a forest, but something about the sudden rise in the smell bothered him, and now he could smell it mixed with other things—

Bones. Blood.

Then as quickly as that they were being attacked, but by what he couldn't say. Mud, in the crude shape of small humans.

He didn't waste time asking questions, but snarled and bit and fought as three of the strange things descended upon him from the trees as the world around them turned to gray morning. The mud tasted thick and bitter in his mouth, leaving an aftertaste of blood. Spitting out a clump which had once been part of an arm, he threw himself at one of the strange things and went for the throat, tearing it out

The muddy head fell, and rolled away to lie still on the forest floor. In front of him, the mud-doll thing collapsed into a shapeless pile. He turned and went for another as hands with surprising strength grabbed him, tore at him.

When at last the chaos stopped, he was filthy and bloody and caked in drying mud. Turning, he growled at Grosvenor, who look no better—in fact, he looked much worse. The nasty little things had managed to tear through his layers of clothing, and a shallow but still nasty looking wound ran the length of his stomach.

Ulrich growled again, fear curling in his gut that Grosvenor had come so close to dying. Any deeper, and that cut would be a gut wound from which no one could have saved him.

"Sprites," Grosvenor said. "Nasty little monsters, those. Made from mud and blood and the bones of children." He stepped forward, then grimaced in pain and held a hand to his wound—then remembered his hands were covered in mud, and with a sigh let it drop. "I don't suppose you could sniff out water? I'm a little too exhausted to find it myself, wolf."

Chuffing, Ulrich wiped his face in the grass to get rid of the worst of the mud, then cast his nose to the wind. At least the danger had faded, for the moment. Catching a whiff of what he needed, he barked at Grosvenor, then led the way from the mud-spattered clearing, very carefully not thinking about all the little bones he could see scattered amongst them.

An hour's hard, exhausting travel brought them to a good-sized stream. Pausing only long enough to ensure there were no traps or sprites lying in wait, Ulrich half ran, half slid down the bank and landed with a satisfying splash in the frigid water.

He stayed in just long enough to get clean, then clambered out and shook himself vigorously dry. Only then, feeling they were safe for a time, did he shift back and begin to work on a fire. Nearby, he could hear Grosvenor stripping down. He turned to ask, "Do you have spare—" and stopped short.

Grosvenor's clothing had kept pretty much all but his face covered. Even his throat had been well-covered by high-necked clothing. Bare of that, he could see two things that Grosvenor obviously had not wanted him to see, but the dressing of his wounds and the excess of mud had ruined any chance of his continued ignorance.

One, Grosvenor wore a collar. It was pale cold in color, to mark him as not properly wolf, but rather what was often called 'wolf brother'—a human close enough to a Pack that they counted him amongst them and would defend him the same as they would their own. Except many of the marks he should have by now were missing, and it looked as though most of them—all but his personal name—had been marked out.

The second thing he noticed was the deep, faded scar in the space where shoulder met throat on Grosvenor's right side. A wolf bite, and one given when Grosvenor was extremely young. Probably when he was about twelve, the age when a boy was considered strong enough to be able to endure such a thing.

"Wolf given," Ulrich breathed. "You're wolf given."

Grosvenor snarled and threw his clothes into the water, then followed them in. Ulrich listened to him swear, but could not tell if he was swearing at Ulrich or the water.

The grouchy bastard was wolf given—but living alone in the lowlands. What in the hell was going on here?

Wolf given meant that he'd been promised since birth, and quite possibly in this case even before conception, to an alpha family of a particular pack. Such betrothals were not made lightly; they took decades of work. As he got older, they would have narrowed down whom in the alpha family he would marry. The bite would have been given by the alpha on the day the decision was made. To be wolf given, or wolf promised, was a high honor amongst the clans. Rare was the human accepted fully into a pack.

So what in the hell was he doing here?

Ulrich wished he could read the marks upon the collar, but they were illegible. It was obvious he'd be better off throwing the collar away, so perhaps it was sentiment or some such that kept the collar around Grosvenor's throat.

What could have been so disastrous that someone would break such an important betrothal with a wild mage? Wolves by their nature possessed no magic beyond their shifting; to obtain a wild mage for the pack was a matter of great importance. Nothing short of murder usually halted such a marriage, especially since if broken, no one else would take a wolf given; the old belief was that if the wolves did not want the betrothed, there must be something seriously wrong.g

At least that explained why Grosvenor had not wanted to remove his Wolfsbane Charm. Ulrich would have smelled in an instant that he'd been wolf given, the small hint of wolf sunk into him by way of the alpha's bite. That also explained why he was so comfortable with wolves that he slept with one without really noticing he was doing it—and made it all the more upsetting that he now claimed to hate wolves.

Shaking his head, conceding that it was still none of his business except he would love to know which pack had gotten so stupid it let a wolf given wild mage slip through its fingers, he resumed building a fire. By the time Grosvenor climbed from the water, shivering something awful but clean and wound dressed, the fire was roaring nicely.

"If you ask me any questions, you will be lucky if all I do is ignore you," Grosvenor snapped as he hung up his wet clothes to dry. He was dressed in clean clothes, but was still shivering as he sat close to the fire.

Ulrich put a few more branches on the fire, and said nothing, merely looked at him inquisitively.

Grosvenor ignored him, instead retrieving his pack and pulling out food for breakfast. "We had best find Annie quickly," he said tersely, "or we will have to stop to hunt for food, and I cannot think that will go well for us, given recent events."

"Right," Ulrich agreed, and ate his food quickly. "Are you warming up?"

"Yes," Grosvenor replied, then reluctantly, "thank you for the fire."

Ulrich shrugged. "So how do we find this witch before she finds us, and why did she attack us?"

"I could not say," Grosvenor said. "Perhaps she does not like another mage taking such an interest. If anyone is a threat to her, it is me."

"Do you think…" Ulrich stewed over it for a moment, then decided the worst he'd get was derision, and he was used to that. "Do you think she might be the reason the dead wolf went feral? It is a hard thing to do, to turn a wolf feral."

Grosvenor frowned. "I…it's possible, though I don't see what her purpose…no, that's not true. He was trying to eat Annie, and Gretel. Perhaps the witch was trying to use him to bring her food? But that seems a stretch. It hardly matters, anyway. The point is to find Annie, and we are wasting precious time."

"We also do not know where to go," Ulrich pointed out. "Better off to remain here and recover our strength, and figure out what to do, rather than run about a changing forest in hopes of finding what we need."

Making a face, Grosvenor conceded the point and subsided into silence to eat and warm himself.

Ulrich wondered at their chances of finding the girl alive. If the witch knew they were hunting her, would she keep the girl alive and fight them off, or devour the child right away and use what magic she gained from it?

Thinking about it curdled his stomach, but ignoring the reality of the situation would do more harm than good. "Is the child still alive, do you think?"

"Yes," Grosvenor said slowly, blinking as he clearly set aside his own thoughts. "My impression from Gretel was that the witch cannot simply eat—she must prepare the child first. Since Gretel and her brother were taken, people have been more cautious. I would imagine the witch has more trouble finding what she needs these days, so I do not think she would waste her prize by…" He grimaced, and finished, "getting ahead of herself."

Ulrich nodded. "Still, as you say, we should not waste time." He stroked his collar absently as he thought—but stopped as he felt eyes upon him. Looking up, he just caught Grosvenor looking away. The silence between them shifted into something tense and thick. "You are wolf given," Ulrich said quietly, "so why are you not wolf mated?"

"It's none of your business," Grosvenor snarled.

"Packs have fought over less than the mistreatment of a wild mage," Ulrich replied. "My own pack has but two to its name, both of them elderly now. They would do and give a great deal to lay claim to you, as would many packs, yet you rot here in the lowlands?"

Grosvenor laughed bitterly, but Ulrich did not miss the sadness in it. "My own clan kicked me out; my former family and my ex betrothed alike prefer to pretend I do not exist, wolf. The mark upon me is nothing more than a bad memory, and if I could be rid of it, I would." He threw his remaining food back into his pack, then went to pack up his still wet clothes. "If we return to that clearing, we can try to backtrack the sprites. I doubt they were aware enough not to leave a path, and hopefully the witch did not think of it."

As plans went, it was a thin one, but there was also a distinct lack of alternatives. Nodding, silently vowing to learn more of Grosvenor's story once the child was safe, Ulrich took care of the fire. Once that was done, he shifted back to wolf and led the way back to the clearing, for they had been in too great a hurry to take care to erase their own path.

Comments

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

I love this story, and all the little mentions of other fairytales. I have seen Hansel and Gretel and the Three Little Pigs, as well as mention of the Laughing Forest from your own stories. It's fun seeing what I recognize.

[camden-rehab.livejournal.com]

I love it - especially since it's completely different from what I expected. Two enthusiastic thumbs up. ^__^

[dameange.livejournal.com]

laughing forest! laughing forest! totally awesome!

[akerushin.livejournal.com]

<3333 It gets more and more intriguing! The Laughing Forest moved around them... and Grosvenor had an interesting relationship with a pack yet was thrown out.. Must be a good story behind that. <3

Excited to find out what happens now.

[lady-ocean.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I like. A new twist, and a completely new idea that I adore.

(Though I giggled because the main character's name is the same as the main bookstore on my campus. ^_^)

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

Ah, poor little pigs. ;___;
And yah for more Laughing Forest! <3<3<3<3
That was actually my first story I read from you, so it always leaves me happy~<3<3<3<3

Also, AHHHH GROSVENOR HAS A SAD STORY ASMSKSHKA HE NEEDS SOME LUUUUUUVIN :O

.....BTW, have I told you I love you?:D

[maderr.livejournal.com]

If you keep professing your love to me, Avalon might get displeased.

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

PFFFFFT, I'm her second wife, and the first one isn't devorced. <3

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Lovely. International open relationship with harem tendencies. I'm so going to see the lot of you on the news one day.

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

International open relationship with harem tendencies.

Now that sounds like my kind of story idea. XD

[wittyilynamed.livejournal.com]

Tell me about it. XD

I'm loving this Maderr. It leaves me feeling vaguely unsettled. Not sure if thats good or not, but I need to go read something happy now. XP

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

Ours is a tragic love affair. Full of of deceit and lies, and the quite breaking of my sorroful heart as I learn that my dear wife, my FIRST wife, has not been faithful, murmuring sweet whispers of digital adultery with words such as, 'LOL I R LESS THAN THREE YOU MEGGY-POO' and 'OMGGGGGGG MEGGY, SJKGHJKNVGDFJKGNKS YOUR PORN IS SO HAWT AND EYE EL U PLZKTHXBAI.' The words she says are sweeter then bolder then the likes that I will ever see, and the thought pierces my heart will careful claws of mercury that slic trhough dakness as her betrayal to my heart.

D:

Maybe I'll feel better if you wrote me some were dinosaur porn.

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

http://jurassicparkwtf.ytmnd.com/

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Where the hell do you people get these links? I'm so not clicking on that.

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

:D (it's not porn....?)

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

YOU DISAPPOINT ME. D: THAT IS NOT WERE DINOSAUR PORN.

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

BUT THIS IS.

Well, it's dinosaur porn anyway.

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

IT IS STRANGELY NOT HOT.

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

I love that song.

"Oh my fucking god, it's a dinosaur. Jesus Christ... what the fuck?"

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, FUCKING DINOSAURS JESUS CHRIST. WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUCK?

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

lol. Headline story: US minor corupter by Malaysian gay porn, film at eleven. <3

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

I AM SO PROUD AND YET CANNOT HELP BUT FEEL THAT I CAN BE EXPECTING A VISIT FROM THE AUTHORITIES SOON

MY DISPLEASURE IS STILL HERE. D: ALSO THE DOT-DOT DOES NOT COUNT AS PUNCTUATION I THINK BECUASE IT IS BEING USED AS AN EMOTUICON SO THERE I WILL NEVER WRITE PORN FOR YOU EVER OR DRAW DITER IN DRESSES BECUASE YOU HURT ME

ITALICS DO NOT COUNT AS PUNCTUATION DOES IT

[lokiloo.livejournal.com]

JUST BECAUSE WE MAY YELL AT EACH OTHER IN CAPS OVER THE INTERNET, I FIND MY LOVE FOR YOU ONLY GROWING STRONGER AND EVEN I CANNOT BEAR TO USE PUNCTUATION IN FEAR IT WILL REMOVE MY FEELINGS' WORTH AND TIME I LOVE YOU MY WIFEY EVEN IF YOU HAVE LIKE 198272927 AFFAIRS WITH EVERYONE ON THE INTERNET I STILL LOVE ONLY YOOOOOOOOU and Kitty and M and Goblin but still I AM MARRIED TO ONLY YOOOOOOOOOOOU SO PLEASE TO BE WRITING MY PORN MOW KTNX <3

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

OH MAII GOD MY FURRY RED LITTLE OOMPA LOOMPA EVERYTIME I YELL IN CAPS AT YOU IT IS DONE WITH LOVE. LOVE. AND I DO NOT KNOW WHAT AFFAIRS OF WHICH YOU SPEAK BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN THE VERY PICTURE OF FIDELITY AND CHRISTIAN CHARITY. EVERYTIME I CONSORT WITH OTHERS IS ONLY TO ENSURE AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF HOT KINKY PORN FOR YOU TO ENJOY. D:

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

WHUT YOU ARE MY FIRST WIFE I AM DISPLEASED MY DISPLEASURE CAN BE SEEN FROM MY UTTER LACK OF PUNTUATION.

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

OH SHIT I PUT A FULL STOP IN THER IGNORE THAT

[alexiel-rain.livejournal.com]

..three little pigs. And Hansel and Gretel. In the Laughing Forest. Makes me wonder if Reynard and Briar are going to appear...I've always liked those two.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

They do not, alas. This is a different county, and their power doesn't extend this far.

[shadowzephyr.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry to hear this story is giving you so much trouble.. because I absolutely adore it. It's going in completely different directions than I expected. I can't wait to read more.

[pineapplechild.livejournal.com]

Heh. Like everyone else, I love the shout outs. The one thing that ran false is the "ex betrothed" thing; nothing about the idea, but the wording. Former betrothed, former fiancee, etc, but the ex is jarring.

[wittyilynamed.livejournal.com]

I don't know. Ex has a certain...bitterness that you just can't infuse in "former", ya know?
Maybe it should be ex fiancee?

[pineapplechild.livejournal.com]

I just felt it was jarring period-wise. (And I dunno, former can get pretty darn bitter; but it's tone not the implication of the word itself, you're right.)

[vettithoughts1.livejournal.com]

I love it and you are wonderful...


VT

[vera-dicere.livejournal.com]

out of curiosity, have you ever heard of the book a companion to wolves by sarah monette and elizabeth bear? some of your ideas [the wolf given/wolf promised] are similar to the wolf bonding in that book- although, i haven't read it yet so i only know the premise, and yours is obviously different, especially in that your wolves are shifters. just thought it was interesting. :)

anyhow. i'm sorry the story is like pulling teeth, but i'm seriously enjoying it!! so hopefully it won't be so awful it falls by the wayside. *crosses fingers*

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

GKFGHFSHGLATNGLK MEGAN I AM SUPPOSE TO LIKE JERKS AND I LIKE ULRICH AND HE IS DEFINITELY Not A Jerk. I HAVE LOST MY IDENTITY, MEGAN, AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT. AND WHILE THE PAIN IS A SWEET ACHE, A THRUM IN MY BONES AND MY HEART, I FIND MYSELF FALTERING, AND CONSIDERING FINDING MYSELF IN JESUS, BUT THEN I RMEMBER GAY PORN WRITER ARE Looked Down Upon.

Also, I LOVE YOU MY LITTLE CANINE WOLFEY POO. YOU ARE SO WOOBIE AND SO NAIVE, AND I AWAIT THE DAY- CHAPTER, THE CHAPTER WHERE GROV THROWS YOU DOWN ON THE FOREST FLOOR TO HAVE HIS WICKED WAY WITH YOU. <333333

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

Coolcoolcool! Yay, more Laughing Forest universe! Yay, more fairytales! (Hah, I caught the three little pigs reference!) YAY, WEREWOLVES! ^__^

[graphitesmudges.livejournal.com]

I wonder if I come in here to read your stories or those comments up there in caps.

= = I'm sorry I'm too tired to get all excited and capsy. I wanted to ask you about Robin Hood. D: Abby was HOT.

I shall give you an amazing comment tomorrow. After you post something about furball Ulrich. :3 He is cute. And cuddly. AND MINE YOU DO HEAR ME!? <3

[gwaihiril.livejournal.com]

This is really an awesome captivating intriguing story.

[(Anonymous)]

I love this! I feel slow b/c I didn't catch the Little Red Riding Hood reference until after the mention of the Three Little Pigs. *goes to lurk until the next part is up*