Page 30 of The Knucker King

Trewoofe huffed heavily and tapped a talon as he thought at what to do next. What other Good Neighbour could I ask? Definitely not the Tall Ones…

The scarred Piskie, as though he could read the Knucker’s mind, cleared his throat. “Perhaps the Wulver? They have strong changing magic.”

Trewoofe considered the idea. “The Wulver pack would make good caretakers for the child. However, they have not had pups since they moved to the Underneath. There would be no playmates for Boarden.”

A painful stab of a memory pierced his heart, two Knuckerlings chasing each other in a meadow in the forest, the dandelion fluff tickling their noses.

“He could play with Hope, and our other younglings, when he is a bit bigger,” the scarred one offered, fine lines appeared at the corner of his mouth as he tucked the blanket back around the baby.

Trewoofe tilted his head curiously. “Who are you to make such an offer?” He studied the Faerie more closely. He knew that scar and that face. “Prince Consort! Is that you?”

The Piskie raked his long nails through his hair and caught a flare of silver on the tip. “We cannot all remain so youthful and handsome, Lord. You Knuckers… well, you never seem to age a day.”

Trewoofe could not help but preen under the compliment; he was a handsome Knucker. His soul-bound had always said so, and so did Avice.

“Queen Mab, she does not seem to like your younglings mixing with others.”

“I would like to think I still hold some sway.” The prince’s lipless mouth quirked up. “I think the best decision, if I may suggest, would be to take Boarden to the Wulver. Then, when he is older, we can organise the younglings to play.”

Trewoofe dipped his head in agreement. “Then, that is what we shall do. I believe in your ability to convince your Queen.” Just before he was about to turn away, he remembered to ask, “How is Hope?”

The unscarred male chipped in. “My sister adores her.” The Piskie placed his hand to his backward knee. “She is up to here already and is already toddling around.”

“So fast!” Trewoofe exclaimed.

“I was not exaggerating when I said that my Queen used vast amounts of her magic to save the girl, and the Underneath itself seems to be aiding her in the rapid growth,” the Prince Consort said.

The Knucker turned his attention back to him. “Did you or your Queen notice any sort of mark on Hope? Similar to the one on the boy?”

The Piskie tilted his head and tapped his shiny, pointed nail to his chin. “I think Mab may have mentioned something, a residual magic – not strong – but she did remove it. Yet another reason why this has weakened her so.”

“Tell your Queen I thank her for her efforts.”

“You saved our clan, Lord. I believe she would do anything within her power that you asked,” the Prince Consort said, lowering his head deferentially.

Boarden gurgled, drawing his attention. “I will take my leave and see if the Wulver will take care of the child.”

Trewoofe stood at the boundary of the Wulver territory. Unlike Piskie-led, that plummeted further below, these Good Neighbours lived in a comfortable cavern at a higher elevation in the Underneath. Wide and warm, with pelts and carvings adorning the walls, the Wulver had truly made this part of his Kingdom their own. The pleasant smell of roasting chestnuts had him swallowing back his drool. It reminded the Knucker he needed to hunt soon, even if the land above was still drowning in Winter. The sounds of the small clan, their chuckles and the working of bone tools, made him crave the closeness of a family that was long gone.

Unlike the Piskies, the Wulver had no guards. Trewoofe wondered if that was because Wulver-led was close to his nest chamber. They knew the Knucker was near and, as in the past, he would fight with fang and talon to keep them safe.

“Queen Olwilla!” Trewoofe called into the homely area.

He was not waiting long before a tall, furry, two-legged figure moved from the cosy firelight of the settlement in his direction. Her long strides brought her before him and she bowed low, prostrating herself before him.

“You may look at me,” Trewoofe ordered, and the Wulver met his eye. “I have a lot to tell you, and I must do it quickly, as time is against us.”

After explaining the situation to Olwilla, she tilted her head and folded her ears back. “So, you want us to what, Lord?”

Trewoofe studied the Wulver Queen. Her wolf face was set with piercing golden eyes, and the tips of her brown pelt were silvered, betraying her advanced age.

“Look after the boy,” Trewoofe repeated.

The Knucker was friendly with the Wulver pack. He would often bring them parts of his hunts from above, and he would come for their company when his aching loneliness was at its worst.

“I… You mean it?” The Wulver’s ears pricked. “For many years, we have longed for pups. Whatever happened to us above has meant that none have come.”

Trewoofe remembered. The descendants of the same men that had taken his family had turned their brutality to Wulver-kind. They had been butchered. Now, there was only a dozen.