by Unknown
"With his breath."
"With his breath," Elliot confirmed around a mouthful of potatoes. Nervousness always increased his appetite.
Ezra examined his own plate. "Strong lungs."
Elliot stared at his brother. "I was too busy running for my life to admire that."
Ezra smiled. "No doubt. And mourning months of hard work."
Elliot refused to consider that yet. No matter how difficult or long the effort, he could replace things. For now, all that mattered was his life.
Ezra's voice turned almost scolding. "You should have let me loan you the money-"
"Stop." Elliot refused to listen to the tired argument. No one could have predicted a long-winded, animal-eating wolf would topple a house with his breath. A thought came to Elliot suddenly, and his eyes widened with terror. "You don't think he could blow your house down, too." The image of those wicked teeth filled his mind's eye, and he quivered in his seat, a chunk of potato shaking off his spoon.
Ezra patted the mud-chinked logs. "Solid as the trees it's made of."
Elliot loosed a pent-up breath, accepting his brother's reassurance, though doubts whittled at his confidence. Though not as dense and strong as wood, woven straw had a toughness that had weathered it through many storms. His house should not have fallen either.
"Has Elijah moved into his new house?" he asked, trying to sound casual so as not to suggest he did not trust his middle brother.
"The brick one?"
Elliot nodded.
"I'm not sure." Ezra put aside his spoon, swallowed, and rubbed his forehooves. Clearly, he understood the implications of Elliot's question, yet he took no clear offense. "It might not hurt to ask him."
Glancing wildly in all directions, Elliot slipped from the wooden house at Ezra's side and glided into the night. Most of the village cottages had gone dark, but cook fires and candles flickered through a few windows. Warm orange flames lit the modest wooden cottage that currently served as Elijah's home. Elliot sighed, pleased and disappointed by the sight. He appreciated the closeness of his oldest, wisest brother, and the fact that he was still awake; but it bothered him to realize that Elijah had not yet moved into the brick mansion that seemed certain to foil the airy wolf.
As the pigs glided to the front door, they glanced nervously at one another. Elliot hated to bother his busiest brother at any time, but especially after so many had already chosen to sleep. A competent, kindhearted doctor, Elijah worked hard for his money and for long hours. “The curse of the competent," Ezra called it. Capable work garnered more clients, who demanded more time. Every business strived for it, but those that succeeded could find themselves overwhelmed. It seemed worse for doctors, since accidents and illnesses could happen at any time; and, in their worst moments of crisis, everyone wanted the best.
Elliot could not bring himself to disturb their eldest brother. Finally, Ezra raised a hoof and knocked.
No immediate answer came, and the pigs stood in silence for several moments. Just as Ezra raised a hoof for another strike, a voice wafted to them. "Who's there?"
"It's Ezra and Elliot," Ezra said. "May we come in?"
The door flew open, and Elijah stood framed in the doorway. He wore red pajamas with white stars and squiggles, and a hat of the same material covered his ears. He was pink, like his brothers, with a few black spots on his body and neck. "Good evening, brothers. Come in, come in."
Now more concerned for who might lurk outside than for bothering his industrious brother, Elliot accepted the invitation eagerly. Ezra also scrambled inside, making certain to shut the door behind him and throw the bolt.
His caution did not escape Elijah. "What's wrong? Are you all right?" When both brothers nodded, he waddled toward the kitchen. "Tell me all about it over a cup of tea."
Reassured by Elijah's manner, Elliot glanced around. The entryway opened onto two sparsely furnished rooms, then continued as a hallway that led into the large kitchen and a gathering room. Unlike Ezra's home, Elijah's also had a spacious loft that served as a bedroom for him and any guests.
Elliot and Ezra followed him down the hall to the doorway of the kitchen. Elijah waved over his shoulder toward the gathering room. "Sit. Get comfortable. I'll bring the tea."
Elliot and Ezra obeyed, arranging themselves on a pillowed sofa. The room also contained a sturdy coffee table, a cabinet, a fireplace, and a cozy chair. A text book lay on its cushion, and a small calico cat lay curled on the open pages. A half-filled mug balanced on one plushy arm. The mantle held framed family photographs, a large one of their mother in the center, and a smattering of small awards and knickknacks.
As the two pigs chose their resting places, the cat rose and stretched luxuriously, tongue unrolling like a miniature pink carpet, and its fangs exposed. It leaped from the chair and strolled leisurely toward the pair on the couch.
Elliot stared at the little animal. "That's a human world cat," he whispered.
Ezra nodded, crossing his stout legs with effort. He glanced at the approaching animal with lips tightly pursed and eyes narrowed, as if he feared it carried the plague.
Though not rare, pets were a luxury item, especially since they usually required a would-be owner to accept whatever creature happened to come his way. Very few Fairy World animals made the potentially dangerous journey to the Old World, and they usually brought back more practical items with a marketable certainty. Humans tended to mistake them for hallucinations or for their unintelligent counterparts.
"Keep it away from me," Ezra did not take his eyes from the approaching animal. "Human world critters give me the creeps."
Apparently taking the words as a welcome, the cat leaped into Ezra's covered lap, nestling between one blocking leg and his stiffly crossed arms.
Elliot smiled for the first time since his ordeal. "Apparently, she doesn't have the same reaction to you." Though entertained by the irony, he secretly wished the cat would come to him. He had petted a cat once and loved the soothing feel of the soft fur beneath his hoof, the happy rubbing of its body against him. He thought he understood why pigs did not make good human pets. Not only would they not fit comfortably in a lap, but stroking one felt more like petting a toothbrush.
Elijah entered, juggling three steaming mugs and a stack of pastries. Ezra rose, dumping the cat from his lap and taking two of the mugs, while Elijah took a more secure grip on the remaining one and the treats. "Luckily, I already had the water on." They set everything down on the table. "Lady Larcha's cinnamon chamomile. Delightful."
The cinnamon did smell good, but Elliot could not help teasing. "You'd compliment Larcha if she made you a plate full of cow dung biscuits."
"True. True." Elijah took his mug in one hoof and a pastry in the other. "And I'd eat them, every one."
Ezra had long speculated to Elliot that the building of the brick house had much to do with winning the heart of the fair lady Larcha. They would need security and room for their own crop of little piggies. Though he wanted to ask about Elijah's intentions, Elliot held his tongue. Now did not seem the time. Instead, he accepted a mug of tea and a pastry. A full belly would go a long way toward alleviating his discomfort.
Ezra picked up his own mug and pastry, then took his seat. Almost immediately, the cat leaped back into his lap. "Hey!" He wiggled his legs to discourage the cat, who seemed barely to notice the rockiness of its perch. "What's with this critter?"
Elijah took a bite of pastry. "Cats know who doesn't want them around."
"But-"
"And gravitate toward them."
"Oh." That seemed to satisfy Ezra, who ceased his efforts to dislodge the cat, perhaps with the notion that, if he stopped showing his displeasure, the cat would move on.
Elliot wanted to talk about his brother's new acquisition, but the events of earlier that evening kept cycling through his head. He had exhausted his ability for casual conversation. Instead, he squeaked out the story of his ruined straw house and the wolf, his desperate run for to
wn, and the wolf’s final threat.
Throughout the story, Elijah listened intently, saying nothing, pausing to take a bite of cookie or sip his tea. Only after Elliot had clearly finished did he speak.
"I'm sorry. That must have been horrible." Elijah's tone held a sweet note of commiseration that added deep sincerity to his words. Elliot nodded, appreciating his brother's sympathy.
"A wolf, you say. With a good set of lungs and a hankering for pork."
Elliot nodded. "He'd have eaten me alive if he'd caught me." Describing the scene brought it all back in terrifying detail. Resisting the urge to hide beneath the couch, he set aside his mug, worried his trembling hooves might spill it all over the partially carpeted floorboards.
"You know," Ezra said thoughtfully, one hoof casually stroking the calico as if of its own accord. "I'm beginning to think maybe Peter's right about the need for some kind of human-type government. So long as we have a herbivore for a leader."
Elliot did not have a strong opinion on that matter. He could see both sides. Government meant taxes and regulation, whether of the monarchical, dictatorial, or democratic variety. Many also voiced the concern that, no matter how it started, the strongest and fiercest would end up in charge once they paved the way for obedience to any commander. To enforce laws would require a strong militia or police force, which could become corrupted. On the other hand, many parts of the human world seemed to manage those problems and keep their societies comfortably lawful.
Not that any of it mattered now. The Fairy World had no laws to enforce and no one to enforce them if they did. Though clearly immoral, the big bad wolf’s pursuit did not violate any formal decree.
Elijah shrugged. He had long ago made his view on the matter clear, and he already sided with structure. "Can you describe this wolf?"
"Well ..." Elliot considered. "He was ... a wolf. Big ears, long snout, sharp teeth, wicked-looking eyes."
Ezra loosed a strained laugh. "That's like differentiating between us by saying pink and fat with a curly tail." He smiled to show he meant no offense. "I'm sure Elijah believed you when you said it was a wolf.”
Elijah gave his middle brother a reproachful look but followed up on his comment. "Was there anything different or special about this particular wolf that you remember?"
Elliot swirled his tongue around hIs mouth, reawakening the taste of cinnamon. "I was mostly focused on the teeth. And running." He closed his eyes, wracking his memory.
"Understandable," Elijah encouraged.
Elliot stalled with another sip of tea, which he swirled around his mouth. It did taste good, the cinnamon leaching the bitterness from the chamomile. "Brown fur, perhaps a shade darker than average for a wolf. Thin and rangy. Dressed casually, even a bit shabby, though he had a hat." That was all he could remember and he let out a sigh. "Does that help?"
"Help what?" Ezra shoved a whole pastry in his mouth, and cherry juice oozed from the corners of his mouth. "What good does it do to know what he looks like? I won't be going near any wolves for the rest of my life, and I'm certainly not going to try to talk to him."
Elijah lowered his head to his hooves, remaining calm. "Well, I've got a few wolves in my practice, and most are normal, decent sorts willing to listen to reason."
"Not this one." Elliot put down his mug. "Do you think you might actually know this big bad?"
Elijah shrugged without looking up. "If I did, I couldn't tell you. Professional ethics forbid it."
Elliot knew better than to argue. No laws constrained them, but Elijah subscribed to one of the few professions that constrained itself. "So what do we do?"
Elijah gave both brothers an encouraging look. "If the wolf could do the same damage to Ezra's house as yours, he would have." He finished the last bite of pastry, then scratched at his snout with his now-free hoof. "At least we know he can't handle blowing down two houses in the same evening, and I doubt he'll act in broad daylight, law or no law. You're safe tonight. If anything happens tomorrow, come straight here. I'll make certain I'm home."
Elliot took some comfort from his brother's promise of assistance, but he still suffered from cold prickles of worry. "And the next night?"
"The next night?" Elijah considered. "That's jazz night at the club. Wouldn't think of missing that."
When Elliot looked stricken, Elijah added, "Why don't you both come with me? My treat."
Months had passed since they had done anything together as brothers. Elliot appreciated the invitation, and he could tell by the broadening look on Ezra's face that he did, too. "It's a date," the middle brother said.
The following evening, Elliot paced the floors of Ezra's wooden cottage, unable to sit still. Tired of teasing his wildly nervous brother, Ezra sat at the kitchen table, reading. Crazed movement accomplished nothing. They both knew it; yet Elliot found himself incapable of controlling the incessant drive to pace.
Though Elliot anticipated and worried for it, the pounding on the front door still caught him off-guard. Licking his lips furiously, he looked at Ezra.
"Who is it?" the middle brother called, his tone revealing a trace of fear as well. The cold, wolf voice carried through the chinking.
"Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in." Elliot wrung his hooves. Ezra seemed at a loss for words, so he borrowed the ones Elliot had used. "Not by the hair on our chinny-chin-chins."
Elliot skittered toward the back of the house while Ezra studied the wolf through the parlor window.
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I’ll-"
"Attempt to blow my house down?" Ezra supplied with a confidence Elliot did not share. It was bluster, he knew, yet he envied his brother’s ability to demonstrate even a false composure under lethal pressure.
"As you wish," the wolf said, as though the idea had originally come from Ezra. Without further explanation, he sucked in an enormous breath of air that seemed to pull the cottage toward him, then released it in a frenzied whirlwind that battered the little cottage hard enough to shudder it.
To Elliot's relief, the structure held. He let out his own miniscule breath, edging toward a rear window despite the respite. Somehow, he knew the wolf would not give up so easily.
"As I said ..." Ezra started over the sounds of the wolf gathering a second lungful, "... attempt to--"
A gale force of air struck the house a second time, louder than thunder. It rattled every timber to its core, sending the house into a rollicking dance, accompanied by the horrible screech of splintering wood. Like a live thing, the cottage seemed to scream, then wood shattered, flinging debris in a tornado volley that spewed in every direction. Elliot flung himself to the floor as furniture funneled over him and the construction of the house toppled into a splattered arrangement of logs and sticks.
Ezra caught Elliot's arm. "Run!"
Elliot stumbled to his feet in time to see a toothy, grinning face flying toward him. Wailing, he ran, too panicked to think clearly. Luckily, Ezra acted for both of them, hauling his hapless brother around his neighbor's to Elijah’s cottage. They both pounded on the door. The oldest brother whipped it opened, shoved them inside, and slammed the panel closed in the face of the howling wolf. He threw the bolt home.
"W-w-w-wolf," Elliot stammered out, without bothering to rise from the floor.
The little calico sniffed at the figures on the floor, demonstrating none of their urgency.
The wolf hammered his paws on the door, and the latch rattled as he apparently tried in vain to work against the bolt. "I'll have you yet," he shouted. "You'll run out of places to hide!"
Elliot swallowed hard. In his mind, they already had. He clambered to shaky legs, glancing between his brothers. "What do we do now?"
Elijah stared out the window, nodding slightly. "Did you get a better look at him?"
Elliot shook his head, but Ezra replied, "Tall and thin. Brown eyes, and a white tip on the end of his bushy tail."
"A white tip, that's unusual." Elijah finally moved from the window.
"Yes, I see it." After a moment's silence, he added, "He's gone."
"Gone?" Elliot drew a bit of solace from his brothers' calm exchange, though he did not share their composure. "For how long?" He clambered to his feet.
"The night, at least, I'd wager." Elijah gave Elliot an encouraging smile. "Hungry?"
“Not yet" For the first time in his life, Elliot felt too terrified to eat. "Your brick house. How soon till it's done?"
Elijah gestured his brothers to the gathering room. "A couple of months."
"Months?" Elliot repeated in a moan.
"At least."
They headed toward down the hallway, Ezra scrambling to his feet to follow. The little calico zipped ahead, claiming a seat on the sofa moments before the brothers did the same. The calico lay between them, purring contentedly.
