Dances with Werewolves

By Krysta Tawlks

Day 1

Dear Mom,

I’m writing you these letters in case I die. Pa knows what to do with my body if anyone finds me out here in the wild. Peter drafted a eulogy before I left. It was beautiful. We both cried.

So far, my quest to retrieve your amulet—something I’ve never seen you wear, by the way—has started off wobbly. When I wasn’t looking, His Royal Horseness munched through half of our food. I know it’s only a three-day journey to the Golden Palace. Still, my stomach can be delicate.

We’re lodging at Sparrow’s. Please thank Georgie for lending me peasant clothes so I can pass through town quietly. I won’t pretend I haven’t got a rash from the trousers, but the tunic is nice.

Tomorrow, I’ll attempt crossing the Badlands. After that, I’ll contend with the Bridge of Fears then scale Del Oro Mountain to the Golden Palace—the stronghold of our enemies.

When did you lose your amulet to these people? Before the Golden War?

I know you chose me for this “errand” because I’ve been—I’ll admit—sad recently. Peter will tell you it’s because of Ariana. Don’t listen to him. He knows nothing about love. He’s still afraid of girls.

Love you to the Gold Mountain and back,

Henry

Day 2

Dear Mom,

I’m resting my head against the belly of a sleeping werewolf. Not by choice. My arms and legs are tethered, but I can still write. When the moon climbs above the mountains, the werewolf and the rest of his pack will wake, and they’ll be hungry.

This could be my last night alive. Tell Peter he can have my gilded knife set. Tell Pa it was me. He’ll know what I’m talking about.

Love you all,

Henry

Day 2, Part 2

Dear Mom,

All my limbs are intact, and His Royal Horseness is lazing his knobby knees on a bed of marsh grass. We’ll finish this night with breath in our lungs.

Just hours ago, the marsh bugs hummed to life and stirred the werewolves awake. The beasts studied me with their coal-black eyes.

One snorted and turned away. “Not much meat here.”

The largest one wrinkled his snout and curled his lips. His breath, reeking of rotten flesh, seeped between teeth laced with moonlit saliva. “You come from the Valley?”

A chill gripped the nape of my neck. Words stuck to the roof of my mouth. His Royal Horseness nodded, so I nodded too.

“Amuse us or feed us,” the werewolf demanded.

A youngling werewolf caught my eye as he lurched in the weeds, snapping at fireflies.

“Amuse us or feed us!”

I’m not proud of this, but I considered offering His Royal Horseness for dinner.

The youngling slinked past, his silver-hued body circling, almost like a dance. I thought of Ariana in her moonlight-brushed gown, her body gliding at my side. Right before she ruined my life.

“Do you know how to waltz?” I offered a shaking hand to the nearest werelady.

Her eyes flickered gold, and she rested a paw on my shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

We circled the marsh in pairs as I hummed your favorite tune. The werewolves howled and guffawed, dancing until the moon retired.

Much love,

Henry

Day 3

Dearest Mom,

I cleared the Badlands by noon, but I’m alone now. I had to leave His Royal Horeseness tied to the cursed bridge.

The Bridge of Fears. If you could call a pile of planks wrapped in flimsy rope a bridge. It hovered over a body of black water, and each step I took creaked like a leaning ship. Between creaks, memories rose from the water below, coiling like vapor.

I remembered the night three summers ago when the stables caught fire. Anger pinched Pa’s face. His voice cut through the smoke. Was it you?

A pipe burned in the crook of my arm. It wasn’t me, lied the ghost of my voice.

Ariana’s yellow curls tickled my nose. Be my bride, I pleaded even as her smile slipped away.

Then, my least favorite memory. Your body trembled against blankets of silk. Your feverish brow glowed in the firelight. Bring my amulet. Bury me with it.

The bridge groaned, whispering. Give them to us.

“Give you what?” My legs were stuck in place.

Your memories.

I wanted to release these thoughts, but, painful as they were, I couldn’t let them go.

The spirit of the bridge breathed again. No passage without paying the toll.

I stepped off rotten wood and onto solid ground, so I must have given something. Of course, I can’t remember…

Yours truly,

Henry

Day 4

Dear Mom,

I reached Del Oro by nightfall yesterday. No one has killed me. Thank Georgie I was just a peasant to these people. At least, until Ariana appeared at the palace gates and recognized me.

Mom! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she’s princess of Del Oro. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.

Heartache burned my chest as she tended to my scrapes. I told her about the dancing werewolves and the Bridge of Fears. We reminisced over the Valley Ball, the place where we met.

She leaned near my ear. “Look, Henry.”

Tugging at a chain around her neck, she showed me your golden amulet.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Your mother gave it to me.”

Mom! What?

“It shows me my desires.” Her face flushed pink.

She said you gave her the amulet before I proposed. And when she put it around her neck, she saw who I really was—kind, earnest, merry, but also, fearful, vain, and an occasional liar. Not the man she wanted to wed.

Until now.

This journey has changed me into a man that she desires.

So, we’re coming home, Mom, betrothed. Thanks to you.

Love,

Henry

P.S. We do have a problem. His Royal Horseness will have to lead us back. For some reason, I can’t remember the way…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Krysta Tawlks has written various projects over the years, which has ranged from picture books to young adult fantasy trilogies. When she’s not lost in her imagination, she teaches English skills to language learners. Her writing is inspired by real life people and stories—family, friends, UFO documentaries… and her doting husband.

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