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Beanstalk Stink
A prison cell really isn’t a place for a wolfie, no siree! Asides from the clammy stone walls cramping and creeping in, making it so he can’t bound and bounce as was in his very nature to do; and the greasy ceiling above meaning he can’t see the wide open sky, the fluffy clouds and the sparkling stars- quite aside from all of that, it’s that damn beanstalk smell that invades his too sensitive nose.
In his more persuasive moments of fitless energy, his mind bounding from thought to thought in lieu of his body aching to do the same, he’d wondered what would the equivalent handicap be to a human? Even with his exceptionally sharp eyesight, he often relied more heavily on his nose to identify others. Targets for a quick swindling con job, his marks reeked of over confidence, the metallic cloying smell of Wendells in their pocket making them an easy meal ticket. He was sure the smell of a farm would be obvious enough for even a human to pick out but the contentment of succulent, fluffy little lambs souring to fear as he crept through the hedgerows to abduct one? No mere human could boast that kind of skill.
But the stench of beanstalk juice? Beanstalk gruel? Congealed and excreted into the buckets in every cell of the Snow White Memorial Prison? The cloud of it infested every stone and slicked the metal bars and it almost blocked the body stench of unwashed human.
Almost.
Wolf concluded, after another pointless pace of his cell (the warden in his infinite wisdom had seen fit to give him a single cell, sneering about “his kind not being trusted”. As if Wolf would stoop so low as to eat another prisoner…Ok! Sure the thought had crossed his mind! But a prisoner marinated in beanstalk? Disgusting, despicable, absolutely not!), that this beanstalk infused air invading his nose must be like if a human were to wear an eyepatch. Like those dashing pirate fellows of the south seas surrounding the third and first kingdoms! Nodding to himself, congratulating himself on a successful analogy, he took a deep sniff-
Only to be reminded of exactly where he was and why he was there.
Whimpering, he dashed to the door, looking hopelessly up and down the hall outside his cell. The prisoners had been shouting out there for sometime but he’d been so lost in his own misery he’d tuned them out.
Glancing over his shoulder, and assessing the weak golden light spilling into his cell, it was around sunset. No wonder the prisoners were angry. Their evening beanstalk gruel was two hours late. Perking up at this realization, turning his head back to the hall and finally, after three months of nothing but beanstalky body odor, a new series of smells invaded his senses and his spine straightened and the hair on the back of his neck rose.
Magic.
Sherberty, sugary and sharp, it crackled through the air and Wolf knew something was happening. A prison breakout? A revolt?
Under that however was another smell. Earthy, worn leather and ale, something like stagnant water under a bridge. Snarling, he pulled back slightly from the door. Trolls.
Trolls? He knew a trio of trolls had recently been brought in, but they should have been on the eastern side of the prison, nearer to the Wardens office. From what he’d garnered during his work assignment that day, they were royalty. Powerful bargaining chip for the Fourth Kingdom, to be sure. The siblings had been awarded what amounted to special treatment from the Warden- a cell together. With Prince Wendell’s visit coming up, the Warden was probably looking for his sovereign’s opinion on what should be done with them.
So. Trolls. Magic. Rolling his eyes, he started scanning the ground and sure enough. Pink powder. Troll dust.
Huff Puff! This was just typical. Guards all sound asleep and here he was, still stuck in this cell!
Just as he was about to begin another furious prowl of the limited floor space he was afforded, a final scent that caused him to look out into the hall again.
A woman was walking down the hallway now. Older, ethereal and pale, one who carried herself with the kind of grace that could only come with being royalty.
The Evil Queen.
Of course he knew who she was. He’d been a pup when she’d poisoned the then queen of the fourth kingdom, and assumed her role as step mother to the then infant Prince Wendell. Which in hindsight, being a step mother in the House of Snow White should really be considered a huge warning sign that treachery was afoot.
She paused, a foot away from his cell door, and he took a deep contemplative sniff. Dark magic, syrupy and thick oozed from every pore; a chalky, cosmetic powdery scent that must have been smuggled to her from loyal followers that prevented that awful bean stink from contaminating her, and…
His breath hitched.
Something, something not…something not of this world. Something quite aside from the rare but of this world dark magic. But also…
Something that stirred his heart. A quick gossamer twinge that held something like…destiny.
——-
His father hadn’t been home too often during his puphood. He would be around of course. Patrolling their territory in the expansive dark woods of the second kingdom. Drawing the Crown’s Red Riders away from their den, keeping the pack safe.
When he was home, his father would take over from Wolf’s mother, who would teach them basic things, like reading and writing. He’d always been a voracious reader, even as a child. Learning as much as he could about the other kingdoms and their history, culture and especially their dishes! Oh how he’d daydream about all the food the other kingdoms had to offer. His siblings had teased him about his lust for adventure, his desire to see the world and taste their wares.
His mother would dismiss it as him just being more whimsical than his siblings. She shared his gift for dramatic flair, and indulged him in his fantasy. She allowed him to season their meat, to present their prey with a flourish. His siblings would roll their eyes at this but agree, however begrudgingly, that it did taste better this way.
His father was more pragmatic. Wolf remembers his father always appraising him, looking at him from afar across their clearing. With a gesture, he would beckon his son to begin his other lessons- how to thrive in their surroundings.
“One day, you will leave us.” His father had said, during one of their forest lessons, learning how to track smaller prey. “I just hope that you find a mate who’ll appreciate you for who you are.”
Wolf had blushed, but stubbornly insisted it was just a dream, that he’d never abandon his family for anything.
The older wolf had just stared at him. “Sometimes we don’t have a choice in what life has in store for us.”
His father probably knew what was to come.
In hindsight there was probably a limit to the blind eye the Red Riders turned to that section of the forest. But his mother liked their den, and had become too human in that regard. They’d dug in deep, and their cottage was likely easily tracked with how much they raided the closest human settlements. His father looked stressed and anxious more and more these days and his mother was tearful.
It had completely gone over his head at the time.
“Papa…how do you know you’ve found your mate?”
With a scoff the older wolf had stopped.
“You’ll smell them, their soul spreading on the air until you feel it consume you completely. That scent will call to you across time itself.”
———
Staring at the Evil Queen’s back, this scent of destiny was confusing but he didn’t think that meant she was his mate. Sure she looked good for her age! No doubt about that, but a Mate’s scent was supposed to be all consuming, toes to top certainty, one and done that's it!
And yet…
So when she offers him a way out, sure, why not? Swearing an oath of loyalty? Ok, doesn’t mean he won’t double or triple or quadruple cross her later, right? He didn’t sign nothing so he doesn’t feel like he really really owes her anything. He feels his spine straighten ramrod straight as the dark magic binds his will to hers…ok so maybe this might be a problem down the line.
But something tells him that the twinge of a scent under all that evil is something he needs to keep a nose out for.