The Shining Falcon

«I never expected it to work. Not really.» Her murmur was meant more for Stefan than Finist. «It was only an old story, you know the one, about how to make the wolf‑charm. Nobody really believes it.» She stopped short, biting her lip. «But I thought, what if? It probably wouldn't work, but if it did, it‑it wouldn't last, it would just change you long enough to—to teach you a lesson. Stefan, I didn't know! I didn't know you—you'd have to stay a wolf forever!»

Finist sat back with a sigh, rubbing tired muscles. «He doesn't.»

Human and lupine heads shot up to stare at him, eyes fierce with hope. «How… ?» Marfa began.

«You still have this, ah, wolf‑charm, I take it?»

She nodded, hand going to her bodice. «I've been carrying it with me to keep it safe. I was afraid if I didn't, something might happen to it and hurt Stefan. I mean, hurt him worse than—than — "

«Never mind that. First, girl, go back into the village and get Stefan something to wear. Go on! With any luck at all, he'll be himself again soon enough. And I doubt he'll want to be caught walking around stark naked.»

«Oh!»

Reddening, she went. Finist glanced down at Stefan, who was staring after her with longing eyes. Well, now, he really does love her! thought Finist, surprised at how pleased the thought made him.

And Marfa came scurrying out again, a bundle of clothing clutched in her arms.

After that, it was a simple matter of lighting a small fire with a flash of will and having Marfa cast her homemade charm—an ugly little thing of scraps of fur and knotted twine‑into the heart of it. These odd little backwoods spells did tend to work, there being enough Power in the forest to fuel them, but they also tended to be ridiculously easy to break.

The charm burned to ash quickly enough. And with its destruction, wolf melted smoothly back into man‑into boy, rather: a lanky, yellow-haired, green-eyed youngster who hastily scrambled into his clothes while Marfa modestly hid her eyes. Then, their prince quite forgotten, the two young lovers rushed into each other's arms, stammering apologies and declarations of undying love. Finist got slowly to his feet, watching with wry humor and, much to his amazement, a touch of rueful envy. What must it be like to be the recipient of such blazing love? What must it be like to feel such love? Princes seldom found out…

Eh, no self-pity. In a short while the two youngsters would be remembering his presence. And the villagers, who must surely be spying through the cracks in the palisade, would get over their awe and come rushing out. Finist decided he just wasn't up to their idea of celebration, which would, he knew, include a good deal of heavy drinking.

Magicians, for obvious reasons, didn't dare risk the loss of control found in drink.

But he wasn't quite finished here. Finist paused, considering. Marfa had plainly gone through enough mental anguish to make any punishment from him mere anticlimax. But still:

«Marfa.» He tried again: «Marfa!»

This time the girl heard him, pulling hastily free of Stefan's embrace and whirling about to face the prince, face reddening anew. «Oh. My‑my Prince?»

«Marfa, do you realize how narrow an escape this was? Had I not arrived when I did, it might have been too late for Stefan. There might not have been a chance to save his human mind. Do you understand what that means?»

To judge from her stricken face, she did. Finist continued relentlessly, «He would have been animal, Marfa, no more than a beast for the rest of his days. Now, my dear, you're not going to experiment with any more of the old tales, are you?»

«N-no, my Prince.» It was a very meek reply.

«And neither you nor any others of the village are going to ever try to play with Powers they really don't understand, are they?»

Both youngsters winced at the coldness in his voice.

«No, my Prince.»

«Good!»

With that, Finist raised his arms to begin the shift to falcon-form, hearing Marfa and Stefan hastily stammering their belated thanks to him as they realized he meant to leave.

But just as he'd gathered his will together, Finist felt the faintest psychic echoes, barely enough to catch his attention, but quite recognizable. Ljuba! Then he had glimpsed her here, spying on him! Anger rippling through him, the prince soared up and out, maneuvering on bright wings through the maze of night-blackened trees, warily, determinedly, following his cousin's trail.

That she fully meant for him to follow her, he hadn't the slightest doubt.