Conall the wolfhound is telling his story to Bob the Cat, and Kappa the soldier dog...

I stood guard in the dog-yard, rage and shock roiling under my fur.

In front of me, I was watching Ailbe tend my wounded dog, Odarnat.

Behind me, I was listening to Trencoss through the fence.

“Never mind,” the sorcerer told one of the local dog-tenders. “That little bitch isn’t worth the trouble. If she doesn’t heal on her own, I’ll take her out and put her out of her misery.”

The bitch he meant was mine, and she had a name—Odarnat. She was fawn colored with a black spot on her back paw, her favorite meal was beef stew, and she preferred to nap in the shade under the trees. Odarnat had not asked Trencoss to kidnap her and turn her into a dog, but she had not complained once. She did her duty and kept to the middle of the pack. Now she was injured because Trencoss had not managed his dogs well in the hunt. 

“We can check her over,” the castle’s dog-tender said, nervous. “Give her a poultice and let her rest indoors, by the fire.”

“I do not wish to be a burden upon my hosts,” Trencoss replied, smooth and oily.

“It is no burden to tend the dogs,” the servant said. 

“Of course it is,” Trencoss answered. “You have three times as many wolfhounds as you are equipped to handle. Spend your limited energy on the valuable beasts.”

“They are all valuable.” But the man did not sound sure of himself.

Trencoss chuckled. “This one is worth feeding, but not much more. If she recovers on her own, I will praise the gods. If she doesn’t, it is a small loss.”

“If you’re sure—it isn’t much trouble, really.”

“I can manage my own dogs,” Trencoss snapped. Without seeing him, I knew he had lifted his chin and swept his cloak closed.

“Of course, my lord,” the man said, and their footsteps receded. 

I glared across the dog yard. My hot blood had turned to ice.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Odarnat would not recover on her own, but I also knew that her injuries would heal well enough with a little care. But Trencoss must have enough animals under his magic right now; he was getting his energy from all of us, and apparently did not care whether Odarnat added a little of her own life-force to his power or he lost her entirely. I had seen him reach this conclusion before, in the five years I spent in his service. 

This time, it mattered to me. I had cracked open the hard shell of bitterness that we had built—Trencoss and I together, I will admit it. I had taken his haughtiness and his scorn as my own, because it was easier than being open to the pain. I could see it all clearly, shockingly, all in that moment.

I could also see that Odarnat had one chance at life. It just so happened that the “other queen,” as the dogs called Ailbe, had come into the dog-yard just a few moments before. She had noticed Odarnat’s condition before Trencoss could order her not to bother. She had heard his threats, too.

Now Ailbe had a choice. She could either continue to tend Odarnat as she had been clearly intending to do, as an ordinary part of her duty as the Lady in charge of every soul in this castle.

Or she could get up, walk away, and go on with her day. No one would ever hold her accountable to this one dog. 

I watched Ailbe and Odarnat, and my friends—in that moment, I hated her. I despised Princess Ailbe, for you see…she had a choice. We had none, Odarnat and I. In my mind, there was no correct answer, there was only hatred.

Ailbe caressed Odarnat’s ears, stood, and hurried out of the dog yard. I had no way of knowing if she was going to her next dozen chores, or returning post-haste with the medical kit. 

Emotion roiled through me, coming out in snarls and snapping teeth. I wanted to fling myself against the next dog, anyone large and healthy, and work out my rage in a vigorous fight. I hated them all—except for the two others of my own pack, who were cowering against the far fence. I couldn’t tell if they were afraid of me or Trencoss, and that enraged me further.

But I have been trained as a warrior. I paced back and forth, growling and snarling, trying to hold onto those memories. They had slipped farther than I realized. 

Before Trencoss captured me in this form, I had sat vigil all night in the temple, the cold seeping through my bones. I had walked until my feet gave out, then crawled a hundred yards more. I had gone a summer’s week without eating nor drinking during the daylight hours, training until my head felt like it was floating above my shoulders and my tongue was cleaved to my mouth, then taking another lesson. I had memorized the legends, the prayers, the parables of the people. All of this, so I would know how to separate my emotions from my responsibility. All this, so when I faced the greatest trials of my life, I would do my duty.

I had almost lost all the training I had spent my entire youth in building. My own bitterness had given space for Trencoss’s vile philosophy to infiltrate my brain. I had begun to believe that since I would never escape, it didn’t matter what happened to anyone else. I was comparing myself to others in order to find myself braver, stronger, more worthy—instead of accepting that my size and strength made me the servant of all; assigned me the duty to protect.

Protect. Protect! 

I paced the yard, then licked Odarnat’s face. Thoroughly.

“Drink,” I said.

“Is she coming back?” Odarnat panted. “She had kind hands.”

“Drink,” I growled, because I did not know.

The gate to the dog-yard swung open, and every head turned to look. It was a burly man carrying an empty sling, and behind him was another figure. Small and upright, dressed in golden linen and embroidered wool, her dark hair tucked into a lace head-dress. Her chin was raised and her expression was flatly determined. 

Ailbe of Dún Allaine, Head Lady of the castle. She gathered all her authority around her like a cloak, trained from birth in the tone that must be obeyed and how to make a decision that no one questions. She was powerful and scintillating, and the choice she made now was going to change

everything. 

She had a choice, you see, and she used it. I was no longer angry. I respected her. 

“That one, Óengus,” Ailbe declared. “Bundle up that dog and bring her to the second workroom on the back hall.”

The big man knelt by Odarnat, laying out the sling and gathering up the injured wolfhound’s limbs. His big hands were tender, and he murmured under his breath as he worked. Odarnat’s eyes rolled up to me, then closed.

“We will not go back,” I told her, in the speech the humans cannot hear.

Then Óengus took her away.

Ailbe met my gaze. Gone was the tentative, feminine gentleness. I looked into her dark eyes and saw a presence as strong as the mountains, as deep as the ocean. 

I almost looked down and licked my lips, the signs of apology and submission, and it took all my human awareness to keep my head high and my eyes on her face.

She nodded once and walked past me, strong and confident, out of the dog yard and away. Her hands smelled of the medicine she had just prepared.

I will not let him have you, either, I told her, in no language known to man nor beast nor Fae. 

It didn’t matter. I made the promise only to myself. And I have kept it—until now.

to be continued tomorrow...

The Little White Cat & the Dog Who Wasn't