by Kailin Gow
The Wolf Fey
A Frost Novella
kailin gow
The Wolf Fey
Kailin Gow
Copyright Kailin Gow 2011
Published by theEDGEbooks.com at Smashwords
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Feyland
The twilight ebbed like a purple and gold velvet cloak studded by tiny brilliant diamonds. I sat staring at the strange crescent moon, the colors of butterscotch and berries. The other moon, the colors of silver and cream hung to the East, showering moonlight over the Winter Kingdom. After many years of traveling back and forth across the Crystal River from the mortal world of Gregory, Oregon into the mythical world of Feyland, I should have been used to the sight of the two moons brilliant against the clear night.
But I wasn’t. It was stunning how beautiful Feyland can be, like the paintings of the most fantastic landscape, coupled with a light that gave off colors that pierced gently through stained glass. As the fragrant wind rustled through the meadow grass and the silvery leaves of glimmering trees, I heard the faint sounds of twinkling chimes, violin strings, and flute play out a melody into the endless night.
That was Feyland.
I had made this trek numerous times before, going back and forth, back and forth at times with my father, but most times alone. This time, it was with trepidation. I sniffed the air and smelled the scent of death and destruction, far bitter than the blackest bile. With it came the taste of change, which was bittersweet as bark root and honey. We had all tasted this change at the tip of our tongues - my father, my grandfather, and the brave men and women of the clan. For thousands of years, we have remained neutral, minded our own ways and lived a simple and peaceful life in Feyland. But with the tides of change, Grandfather would soon have to make a decision...
This decision would affect me in the most profound way for it will either take me away from Feyland or take me away from her. Her, the reason why I travel back to Gregory. Her. The pretty girl with the lavender eyes, creamy skin, and a bright smile. Breena.
************
Breena
I have never known a time when I did not loved her.
I loved her the moment I saw her running scared into the woods at the back of the school near her home in Gregory, Oregon. We were both around five or six at the time. She had been chased by a group of girls, led by a dark-haired girl named Clariss who teased her endlessly for her lavender eyes and thin willowy frame.
“Treena!” They taunted. “Come out and play with us.” Then they laughed. “Or you like playing with trees instead? Weirdo.” They laughed again before leaving.
I watched from afar behind the silvery trees, timid and nervous at first because I had just shifted back into a boy and was crossing the woods to get home. Timid at first because of her beauty. From the beginning, I sensed she was no ordinary girl. She had an otherworldly beauty unlike the other girls in school. She was human, no doubt, and smelled human, but those lavender blue eyes and creamy white skin and long silky honey brown hair glimmering with copper sunlight, made me think of Feyland. As I stepped out from behind the trees, and she fastened her steady gaze at me with both fear and curiosity, my heart skipped a beat, and I knew I could never stay away from her.
Chapter 1
Logan
My name is Logan, and I am a wolf. To be precise, I am a werewolf from Feyland. I say it like it’s a distinction, a badge of honor, like it’s something to be proud of, which I am sure my father and grandfather would agree it is. At the moment I am not. In fact, I am ashamed. I am ashamed of being a werewolf, and I am ashamed of being from Feyland.
Being a werewolf, no matter how touched by magic Feyland wolves are, is something I have to hide in Gregory. My mother would sympathize more with me than my father over this shame for she is human. It is from father’s bloodline that I was born a denizen of Feyland, one of the enchanted creatures. Father is the Wolf Prince of Feyland, and Grandfather is the Wolf King. Yet Father lives with my mother and I in quaint Gregory, Oregon like any other family. Only, Father makes his trek across the Crystal River into Feyland every so often to return to the wolf clan. He will be Wolf King one day when my grandfather is gone. We don’t know when Grandfather will cross over, but we suspect soon. Because of his human blood, he is more human than fairy, and will not live as long as a fairy. At the moment, Grandfather is nearly two-hundred years old, and Father, who is again from a human mother and a wolf fey father, is fifty years old. Because I have the most human blood in me than wolf fey, I age like a human. I am seventeen years old.
We are like any other family. I attend Gregory High and my parents work. My mother is a counselor, and my father is a lawyer. My parents are constantly working, which suits me fine since I mostly get to do a lot of my own things. Like play music, cook, play sports, write and compose songs, and hang out with Breena.
Breena does not know I am a werewolf or that I am from Feyland. There is so much she does not know about me, so much that I have to keep from her. It drives me crazy. Sometimes I want to tell her, yet I could not. I could not expose my kind to humans or let anyone who is not from Feyland know about this mythical world. It is a solemn rule among all denizens of Feyland that when we cross over the Crystal River to the Land Beyond, we will not let others know about Feyland.
It is a secret I must keep. It is a secret that keeps me from telling Breena I love her.
At the moment, we are sitting in her house all alone. As a wolf, my senses are heightened, and I could smell her. She smells like a bouquet of sweet jasmine, honeysuckle, and orange blossoms. She smells warm and full of life, like the sun. As a warm-blooded wolf, I am drawn towards that heat, especially living in a cold place like Gregory. I am drawn towards Breena in all presence.
Her mother Raine Malloy is an attractive woman in her thirties. She has the same coloring as Breena, except her eyes are blue. Raine is an art director at a children’s publishing house, and she’s constantly working as well. Years ago, when Breena and I were younger, I had asked Breena about her father. “Where is your father?” I had asked.
“My mother left him years ago even before I was born,” she said. “I don’t know him.”
“Aren’t you curious about him...who he can be?” I had asked.
“Of course,” Breena had said. “But I have my mother. She’s all I know. I mean, I would love to know and meet my father someday. But for now, Mama is doing a pretty good job raising me.” She smiled happily. I smiled back. “Don’t you think so?”
It occurred to me that I would not know what was normal, being from Feyland and living in both lands. “I guess so.”
Breena got in close to me and said confidently for all of her seven years, “I know so, Logan.”
I shrugged and nodded. For all that I adore her, she was Breena, and even at seven, she was stubborn when she s
et her mind on things. But that is one of the things I love about her - her spirit.
Chapter 2
Breena’s Dreams
“You know,” Breena said, ruffling my wavy blondish-brown hair as we walked into her cozy cottage house right after school. “You really should hang out with people other than me once in a while. It could get you into the popular crowd...you know Clariss...” She crinkled her nose. “Not that I’d want to be part of that group.”
“What makes you think I want to be part of that group, too?” I asked, looking into her eyes, seeing if she was serious about even suggesting I would rather hang out with them than with her. I took her hand. “I like hanging out with you.”
“I know, but we’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and I just think maybe you might be interested in dating some girl. I know Clariss is interested in you.” She looked me over. I could feel her taking in my tall build, my tanned face, and my thick hair. Unlike my father, who was strong and wiry, I was tall and muscular, having grown stronger with each trek to Feyland.
“I am not interested in her, Bree,” I said. “She’s not my type.”
Breena smiled then, her bright eyes lighting up, and her high cheekbones looking more pronounced. “But you’re definitely her type,” she laughed. She laughs in that soft and slightly husky voice that is both feminine, yet strong. “I’ve seen her looking at you. Heck I’ve seen how most girls look at you.”
“Like what?” I asked edging closer to her. The way she was looking at me just now brought a flush to my face. She was dressed in a soft green sweater and jeans that hugged every curve of her tightly. At a week shy of sixteen, she had filled out into a woman. At this moment, she looked sexy and inviting. I swallowed and reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.
She turned away and grabbed the nearest pillow off the sofa and hit me with it on the head. “Oh, like she likes you,” she said.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked, grabbing another pillow and smacking her side with it. She swerved and landed on the sofa before I made contact.
“No,” she said getting up and taking aim at my chest with her pillow, “It’s a good thing...which is why...” she smacked me again. “I think you should try going out. You’re much too cute to hang out with the school’s loner girl, you know.”
“So I’m cute?”
She shrugged. “Don’t act like you don’t know it, Logan.” She looked away. “Probably too cute to hang out with me, a misfit, a girl who see things other people don’t see...and my dreams...”
“Breena,” I caught her arms, holding her pillow in front. “Please. Stop talking about yourself like that.” I lifted her chin gently up with my index finger until her eyes met mine. “You’re beautiful and smart, you’re better than all the Clariss’s in the world. So what if she has a crowd of dumb followers around her. So what if she has more so-called friends. She may be popular, but does she have your substance? No. Does she care about others like you do? No. She’s selfish, cowardly, and mean-spirited. And from what I can see when she makes fun of you, she has no heart.”
“She’s pretty and dresses well...”
I smacked her with the pillow on her side. “She’s also mean and she gets her followers to attack you...ever since we were kids. Because of what? She’s jealous of you? She sees you as a threat?” I glowered at Breena. “All of that. I don’t like a girl, let alone a person, who puts people down and gets her cronies to put people down, too.” I took a breath, realizing I’m sounding a lot like my father. “Leaders care for their followers. They don’t get their followers to do stupid things that would get them in trouble.”
“Trouble?” Breena raised her eyebrow.
“Yes,” I said, “I believe when you’re mean to people and treat them poorly, it comes back to bite them in the butt.”
“Logan,” Breena laughed. “Okay, so I know how you really feel about Clariss.”
“As a guy, no matter how attractive a girl is, she becomes ugly quick if she’s a jerk, especially to you.”
She reached up and put her arms around me, pulling me close into a warm hug. “Logan,” she said, putting her head on my chest. “You’re always there to protect me. What would I do without you?”
I almost said it then. I almost admitted how I felt about her. That I loved her. But when I looked down at her, her eyes were closed.
I could see she was thinking about something. I inched closer to her, touching her shoulders with my fingers. “Bree, is something wrong?”
She looked up, her eyes serious. “Logan, you and I have been friends for a long time, right?”
“Right,” I said, taking her hand in mine. I felt like a giant holding her hand, which was soft and small with elegant fingers. “What is it?”
“I don’t know who else to tell this to, but you, Logan. Somehow, I trust you, and I know you won’t laugh at me if I told you,” she went on, nervous about whatever she had on her mind.
I dropped her hand and went to the kitchen where I took out a large mug from the cupboard. From having been to her house a number of times throughout the years, I knew where most things were. This mug was Breena’s favorite...the one that was plain white with a rainbow in front. As much as Breena was practical like I was, she was also a dreamer. She believed in rainbows and unicorns, dragons and fairy tales. Did she believe in werewolves, though? Did she believe in werewolves like me who were originally of fairy blood from a mythical place like Feyland?
“Take a seat,” I said, gesturing at the large comfortable sofa in the living room in front of the television. “I’ll be right back.” I heated up some water and placed a chamomile tea bag in the mug, dousing it with a spoon and adding a touch of honey. Cooking was something I enjoyed, and I loved cooking for Breena, surprising her with some new creation once in a while. I walked into the living room where Breena was sitting, her legs comfortably curled up on the sofa. I handed her the cup of tea and sat down next to her, putting my cup on the table by my side.
Breena inhaled the scent of the whiffing steam and smiled. “You added a touch of lemon!” she said.
“Good nose,” I said touching her nose with my finger. Though she was not a wolf like I was, she did have a stronger sense of smell than other humans. I think it was because she and I played often in the woods. “So spill. What are you thinking of?”
Breena put down her mug, took my hand, and led me upstairs to her studio where she liked to paint. She opened the studio and there in front was a painting of a beautiful golden palace where sunlight and flowers splashed the colors of summer across the canvas. I stopped and stared, unable to believe how detailed, how accurate her painting was.
It was a painting of the Summer Palace, which Breena would not have known. How could she have known it without having been to Feyland?
******************
From then on, Breena would tell me of her dreams. They were becoming more vivid every night, her dreams of the Summer Palace, her dreams of the Winter Prince...dreams of her dancing with him at their wedding day in a golden palace. I knew of this Winter Prince, Prince Kian, only because my Father and Grandfather had instilled in me the politics and hierarchy of Feyland from an early age. Prince Kian was of the Winter Fey, the son of the powerful and beautiful Snow Queen. Like his mother, I was told he was devastatingly attractive, alluring enough to attract mortals to their death. One kiss from the Snow Queen, and mortals would die a painfully chilling death. Unless the mortal was strong enough to withstand the kiss.
Although I have never met him, he was known to be a deadly fighter and just as exquisite as his mother. From tales around Feyland, women found him handsome, charming, yet arrogantly cold. At the moment, I did not care how women found him. All I cared about was that the girl of my dreams was having dreams about this prince every night, and painting them afterwards.
I did not know enough about my Wolf Fey nature and Feyland to tell what her dreams meant. Was she the chosen mortal for the Snow Prince w
ho will kiss him and then perish upon the kiss? Did he sought her out across dreams, across the Crystal River, to attract and entice into a chilling frozen death like a siren calling lovers to a watery grave? Breena’s dreams were becoming more and more vivid as the days counted down to her sixteenth birthday. I felt helpless as I watch her believe in the dreams as though they were real, only to find her waking up and stare at the painting of the Snow Prince with a look of awe and tenderness.
I needed to speak to my father. I needed to go back to Feyland. Unlike the other wolves from Feyland who traveled back and forth between the Land Beyond the Crystal River and Feyland, I was the most “humanized” because of the amount of time I spent in Gregory rather than Feyland. That would change one day when I become the Wolf Prince, like my father, who now mainly resided in Feyland. Instead of dreading learning about my Wolf Fey heritage, I had to go back, embrace it, and learn all I could about it...for the hope of saving Breena from the Winter Prince.
Chapter 3
The Wolves of Feyland
Father had asked me to attend one of the official meetings of the Wolves with him. He came over two days before Breena’s sixteenth birthday, which I had planned to celebrate with her by cooking her favorite dishes. I had also written a song for her, which I have been practicing for a few days. It was my attempt to be romantic. For her sixteenth birthday, I planned on finally kissing her and telling her how I felt about her. And with that, I planned on telling her about my secret.
All that changed when Father came back from Feyland. He had an urgent look on his face as we embraced and got ready to go. “Logan,” he said, “Be on your lookout. The usual ways are not safe. Since the last time you were here, a few things changed.”
“I was here last month,” I said. “What could’ve changed between then and now?”
