#title: sun and moon

[divinit3a]

two (2, ✌️) normal creatures.

reworked the designs for the playing along / horror fellas ✨ i will never draw them the same way twice. but i'll pretend to be consistent :")

[crabsnpersimmons]

Have You Eaten? now on Ao3!!

welcome welcome! have you eaten?

the first story of my restaurant DCA AU Have You Eaten? is up on Ao3 now! Have You Eaten? is gonna be a series of stories, rather than a multi-chaptered work (like New 'Do, Same You) so i hope you'll enjoy the variety!

you can find the series here on Ao3

thanks to @starriegalaxy for proofreading

Note: don't worry, i haven't forgotten New 'Do, Same You, i'll be working on both at the same time because they're both near and dear to my heart and they're tonally very different, so switching between the two will give me some variety too

[piowasthere]

the file is literally titled 'that one au where Sun kills his Moon' i think that's a good enough caption for this

i would've post this a few days ago but we're currently moving so don't have that much time

there i go with being on time with these for the eps sob

[EP: Moon’s NIGHTMARE Encounter While Hunting Dark Sun (SAMS)]

[hexcii]

Tosses these two into the void and scampers away

Is he a werewolf? Is he a werebear? Is he a human? Who knows! He’s just a dad

Semi-inspired by this post by @/paper-lilypie :]]

Not pictured is Gregory making fun of them (and maybe teasing Sun and Moon about a certain crush cough cough)

[vypridae]

my au's sun and moon after their first day/night out without the other. posting these because i have major art block and wanna post at least SOMETHING for yall BFGJHFGHKJF

(context for au below cut)

so in my au, sun and moon were originally two separate animatronics. they performed together at the theatre for a while. at some point, around the time bonnie was suddenly replaced, fazbear ent. LLC.'s profits went down. so, the company's ceo (who shant be named) provided the techs with a few ideas to save the company money, or make them more money to make up for the loss with bonnie's disappearance. one of those was scrapping sun and moon.

sun and moon were the techs' pride and joy at the time. but, with losing money (and being threatened to be replaced if they couldn't get profits up somehow), the techs decided that sun & moon's theatre performances weren't working. so, they put them in the superstar daycare instead of the theatre; a lot of adults kept being fired from the daycare and that was also losing the company money, so why not get rid of the human daycare staffing altogether? along with that, they had come to the realization that having two animatronics in one small area like this would be cause for costly monthly repairs. so, they decided to redo the attendant altogether and put both ai's in the same body. used old parts from their other bodies to build this one, so as to save money. spent a lot of time on them, since they were the tech's pride & joy, but couldn't get the transition and ai bugs smoothed out in efficient time, so they gave up. threw the attendant into the daycare and started focusing on the glamrocks and DJMM, the ones that actually made a lot of money for the company.

the art takes place that first night sun and moon come into consciousness, neither of them realizing they can speak to the other in their joint headspace, nor realizing how. this is that first day/night without the other.

[naffeclipse]

I have read all your non-human reader fics and unreasonable amount over. I am begging you with the small peice of soul I have left. If you drop a non-human oneshot or even js an IDEA for a fic or a oneshot I will devour that like I haven't been fed in years. (I love non-human readers so much its addicting.)

Hm, okay! I have an idea or two, and centaurs have been on the brain, so you're getting that.

You are a deer centaur. You're graceful and quick as you prance through meadows and wave through trees effortlessly. Humans rarely travel this far, but you've noticed two beings of metal that sometimes move through here, guiding humans to the other side of your vast wild lands. You hardly ever let them see you for a moment that's not simply your tail-end as you bound away, but they sometimes stop and stare as you go.

You grow used to seeing them, the brothers. The one has a visage like a sun with beams surrounding his head and the other wears a cap over his moon-crescent face. Their jackets are leather, the ones hunters like to wear. One wears old yellow and the other wears dark gray. The colors make them stand out, unlike the hunters.

They're quiet, unlike the noisy humans that stomp and travel through with their hand carts and whining cattle. When they return without people to guide them, they sometimes sit under the shade of a tree and rest for a moment. You nearly stepped on the sunny one when you were plucking flowers in the meadow and jerked upright to see his wide eyes staring up at you, his mouth agape in awe and shock from where he had been resting on the grass. He tried to say something but you ran away before he could.

The other caught you off guard when you were slipping to the creek. You found him downstream a few yards away, washing his hands and scrubbing dirt from the jolts of his wrists. You were too thirsty to turn away from a cool drink. His head lifted and he froze while you knelt down on your four legs and cupped your hands together to fill them with the creek water. He said not a word before you finished gulping and dripping water on your bare chest. He tried to when you got back on your hooves. You didn't catch whatever he said.

The season changes, and you wonder why you haven't seen the brothers for some time. All the grass has dripped into gold and the heat of the day has eased while the nights become blissfully cool. Do those kind of metal creatures get sick? Did they decide they were tired of guiding humans? You stray closer and closer to the wagon-rutted path they take between the trees, but you neither hear nor see signs of them. That's too bad. You continue jumping over ferns and galloping through open fields, ignoring that slight pang in your chest. You spend your days eating wild apples and carefully removing ripe berries from thorny veins.

Until you notice, during one munch under an apple tree, the glint of something silver like teeth in the shade of trees on the far end of the meadow. Your floppy ears swivel. You stop chewing.

Then a report of a gun explodes your senses. Two shots in the same thunderous cry. Pain sears through the meat of your back right flank and the soft point between your shoulder and your chest. You nearly buckle before scrambling upright and bolting. You hear curses and shouts. Hunters. Their jackets are brown and camouflage.

Blood trails behind you, marking every half-wilted leave and mud-dark trail. You stumble. Your mind is caught stiffly in the combined panic and shock of pain, and you collapse onto the path that bears wheel marks from wagons. You have to get up. You writhe, kicking up stones and dust, but you don't find a way to return to your hooves.

Then you hear voices. Your vision blurs and your panic spills out into a bleat from your lips before someone softly shushes you. Your skull is taken in gentle, metal hands. A cool touch falls to your lower half's ribs, and you feel sticky and hot with blood. A voice asks what happened. Something gives way within you. Refuge. Exhaustion sinks into your eyes, and you falter into the darkness.

When you wake, it's warm. You blearily realize you can smell something strange and sharp, like the medicinal herbs you collect to prevent invention, but it's smothered under something. Your head is cradled by a soft pillow. Slowly, you realize walls surround you, and it looks terribly similar to the log cabin you once followed the brothers to one season just to see where they ended up when they weren't roaming.

You're sprawled upon a cool, open floor with a sheet underneath you. Your fingers explore gingerly and find bandages around your shoulder and your flank, your tan fur clean of blood. You jerk upright before you hear "I'd take it easy. You lost a lot of blood."

You twist your head to find one of the brothers sitting on the floor beside the pillow you were just lying on. His half-moon face regards you quietly. Through an entryway, the other brother emerges and you flinch at his arrival. His eyes widen before his mouth splits in relief.

"Oh! Good, you're awake. You gave us quite the fright."

Pain dully throbs underneath the bandages, but you realize you're not going anywhere anytime soon, even if your instinct screams at you to flee. The brothers gently sit beside you and tell you their names. Sun and Moon. You regard them in the way you would regard a snake in your path, but they don't hiss or rattle. Instead, they chuckle and ask you in a dozen different ways if you're alright, and what happened. By the storms in their faces, you figure they can guess.

Sun gives you a cup of water, and Moon asks if he can check your bandages. You shift anxiously, almost spilling your drink while he gently peals back the sticky, ruddy-stained patches to see the sizeable hole blown into your lower half. You would have bled to death. You would have been someone's trophy.

"You're safe with us." Sun gently takes the cup from your trembling hand before you spill anymore. "You can rest as long as you like."

"I want to leave. Now," you say, and even when you try to kick up and get back upright, you only manage to interrupt Moon while he's stuffing cleaning herbs against your bullet wound. You gasp and then yelp from the searing pain of jostling your tender injuries.

"Don't move," Moon growls once. "You're going to start bleeding again if you keep that up."

It's enough to make your ears flatten and you freeze.

"He's right." Sun nods, understanding concern coating his expression. "You can't leave like this. I promise it'll only be so long as you need to recover."

This will take weeks to heal if not months. You hardly belong in a close-quarters house, much less in the care of two machines, but they hum and gently tend to you until you stop fidgeting and accept pills from a little pale bottle. The pain slips away, but so do you as Sun's fingers gently brush your floppy ears and chat quietly about illegal hunters in this area. Moon shifts his attention to your shoulder. You wince when he touches it, and he apologizes. There's a blood stain on the pillow you're resting on. You let him inspect the wound before he softly touches your arm and tells you to get some rest. It will help you heal.

And that's how you spend most of the season in the care of Sun and Moon.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

afton'd reader sets a man up to be straight up point blank Murdered and honestly, good for them, wish i could do that when someone flirts with me when im working smh

(i say that like i've been flirted with more than maybe two times in four years of customer service type shit)

[scarlett-ink]

Once again, consider this a teaser since chapter 8 isn't out yet! (hoping to have it done and released on my birthday ((Dec. 22)) so hopefully I hit that deadline!)

Chapter 7 & 8 art for Eclipse of the Valley without titles.

Chapter 5 & 6 art

Chapter 3 & 4 art

Chapter 1 & 2 art

[bluerasbunny]

huh! he didn't say that the last time you watched it...

[ohno-the-sun]

Final Group of Animators on the DCA MAP of Dr. Sunshine is Dead!!

Part 1: Me! Hello! Part 2: @kibbits Part 3: @piixelpaint Part 4: @nebuladreamz Part 5: @smoljeanius Part 6: @garbagechocolate Part 7: @garbagechocolate Part 8: @amberluvsbugs Part 9: @cookiiemancer Part 10: @cloudyvoid Part 11: @skizabaa Part 12: @circleheadd Part 13: @gopsnippers Part 14: @just-a-drawing-bean Part 15: @nosleepyguy Part 16: @soupdweller

So excited to work with all of you!

[cracklewink]

I know its not canon but I always liked the idea that Flurry Heart grew up to be a normal pony. Never went on any princess-title-earning quest, no grand magical destiny, no real royal responsibilities. Just a normal pony (who happens to be an alicorn) free to enjoy life with her friends and hobbies

[smiuffzo]

didnt plan on posting this today originally but decided that it actually fits really well with the beginning of the spooky season, so!

a fake doai movie poster inspired by posters for movies 'a short film about love' and 'on the silver globe', both by andrzej pągowski! and just for fun i also made a version with a shoddy polish title, how authentic am i right

[midnight-mourning]

Polar Frights

ignore this is a few minutes late, ignore this is a few minutes late-

agh, anywho, had a lot of fun with this, i saw the prompt and kknew immeditately what i wanted to write. It also tied in with something i've been wanting to do for ages, so it all worked out!

So, here's a little something for @wyervan's Yuletide au! I fell in love with them and their designs the moment I saw them and have been itching to write something for ages now (hi it's me the 'not santa' anon from a literal month ago lol). Hope you all enjoy, and if you see this wyervan, hope i did your boys justice ^^

Word Count: 1474

Words used: frigid, polar, caverns, frostbitten from @divinit3a's cafe prompts

Frigid. 

That would best describe the weather currently, as you traverse through the snow. The wind whips around you, cutting against the exposed skin of your face. Your eyes sting with tears, but you keep pushing forward, footfalls heavy as you move across the landscape. 

You'd rather be anywhere but here right now, the howling of the wind reminding you of that as you move. But, you weren't going to stop now. You'd come too far to turn back now, you weren't going to let it be in vein. 

You know what you saw, you were sure of it. Even if everyone else would call you crazy if you tried to explain, you know what you witnessed last night. 

You'd been worried about her, the blacksmith's daughter, Opal. You'd seen less and less of her since her father had caught on to you slipping her meals, playing games, and so on. You'd been so careful, but it hadn't been enough obviously. 

When you realized it had been days since you'd laid eyes on her it was late while lying in bed. It'd been haunting you, and so you decided the only course of action was to simply go and check. Sure you didn't know how, but you argued that you'd figured it out during your half-awake stumbling to their home. 

So when you turn the corner and happen to peer up onto the roof, spot a pair a of glowing red eyes upon a hulking form, well, you weren't prepared for that, to say the least. The beast doesn't notice you, not at first. Instead, it's focus is on a certain bedroom window, one you knew belonged to Opal, and the hair on your skin stands up. 

You want to say something, do anything as it takes a clawed hand and creaks open the window. But with it's large, curled horns and cloven hooves, you very much fear you're seeing the devil himself. Your frozen in your fear, unable to act as the monster ducks inside momentarily and back out with the sleeping girl in his arms. 

Your body finally responds then, in the worst way. You let out a small gasp, barely a whisper, but you still slap your hand over your mouth. 

Somehow, it heard, whipping to look in your direction. You once again stand motionless, eyes locked on that piercing crimson gaze. It makes a noise, a mix between a huff and a growl, eyes narrowing to small slits. Then, Opal stirs, and you both shift your focus to her.

She settles again, and with a final look to the, the beast is gone. It was so quick you're still not certain if it leaped off into the darkness, or just vanished into thin air. 

Regardless, you know what happened was real, at least in some part, as the blacksmith casually mentioned his daughter as 'under the weather' the very next morning. A quick search of his home by the other villagers however proved otherwise. And as soon as you heard the news, you knew what you had to do. 

You remember the stories you'd heard as a child. Children who misbehaved were punished for their wrongdoings, snatched up by the likes of a demon as penance. But you knew with all your heart that Opal was nothing of the sorts. 

A mistake, it had to be. One you had to make right. Or else.

You only had a vague idea of where you were going, there wasn't much out in this polar wasteland besides the trees and snow, but you knew the legend. If you traveled far enough, to the point your feet ached and your body was near ridden with frostbite, until you were at your absolute limit and felt the strongest desire to turn back, there would be something. What? You weren't certain. You don't think anyone was. 

As you come across another open clearing, more nothingness in your sight, your heart begins to sink a bit. With the current state you’re in, you need to find shelter soon. Despite your layers and extra precautions, you were starting to feel the chill sink in, more than usual that is. 

Just as you stop to plan what to do next, there's a sound above you of... something shouting?

You dare to glance up. 

Standing out against the stark white sky is a sleigh of bronze. Even from down here you can take note of all the intricacies of the metalwork, but you can't even focus on that when you realize attached to the sleigh are nine massive reindeer. They too gleam like the bronze, but with the steam emitting from the, along with how they effortlessly glide through the sky, it seems impossible to consider them as machine. Their movements far too alive. 

If that wasn't enough, another shout interrupts your baffled thoughts. As the sleigh passes overhead, you finally take note of its driver. Humanoid, but much like the rest of the company, he's also a machine of some sort. An automaton, you realize. Spikes encircled his head, giving the impression of a sun. His red fur coat seems unnecessary to you, but you're far past the point of questioning something so, simple, at this point. 

You rush out into the field to get a better view as it disappears off into the distance, only to realize that after a certain point, the sleigh stops getting further away. It's turning around, coming back. 

And seemingly, is heading straight for you. 

You panic, suddenly gaining a burst of energy to keep moving. You don't know what that thing wants with you, but you're not sticking around long enough to find out. 

As you cross the field you hear more yelling from behind you, he's trying to speak to you, you realize. But with the wind and your own fear blocking out your senses, you can't even begin to comprehend what he might be saying. 

As you make it to the opposite side, you see the mouth of a massive cave and not having many other options, decide to head straight for it. 

Once you make it inside, you keep going, your feet moving of their own volition as you travel further and further into the dark. It's cold, but not as cold as outside. You only stop moving when you physically collapse to the ground, exhausted. 

Taking deep breaths, you feel around in the darkness for the cave wall, crawling over and laying back against it as you try and catch your breath. 

Despite the sprint you just completed, the cold starts to seep in again immediately. You shiver, teeth chattering as you huddle your arms against yourself. You have no way to make a fire, it occurs to you. You'd been in such a rush that besides bundling up and packing a small amount of food, you'd forgotten to gather the supplies for it. 

Interestingly, either because of hypothermia overtaking your now—likely—frostbitten body, or of an unexplainable natural phenomenon, the ground below you is startingly warm. You can't make hide nor hair of it. 

You seep it up as much as you can, having nothing else to keep you warm at the moment. The cavern around you is near silent, you can just make out the wind blowing outside. 

So when you hear the clack, clack, clack, of steps against the ground, you tense. 

You can't see a thing, only able to curl in on yourself and pray it's someone friendly. Though given where you are, you doubt that. 

The steps end just in front of you, a huff of hot air blows down on you after a moment, followed by a low chuckle. 

You whimper, not daring to look up. 

A low voice echoes all around you. "Persistent, aren't you?"

Something compels you to speak up, despite your terror. 

"Have, have to be. Need to, to find her, make sure she's okay." Your teeth clack as you tilt your head up, meeting the gaze you were almost expecting. "Wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't."

Despite the darkness, you can pick up on the surprise in the beast's eyes. Then, you hear a slight jingling noise as he nods once. He extends a clawed hand down to you. 

"Come along then, it'll do her no good to see you freeze."

You stare at the offering, uncertain. 

A snort. "We don't have all day, kid. It's only a matter of time before you get frostbite. And I'd rather not hear him complain about that."

"O-okay." You take his hand, feeling the warmth even through your glove. 

He pulls you into a stand, and starts to walk deeper into the cavern. You don't know where you're going, but you suppose you don't have much a choice. 

You just hope you’ll end up somewhere warm. 

Should have definitely started this sooner but alas, got busy. BUT, at least i finished it, and i like how it turned out :) Excited to keep these up for the end of the month, but for now, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[piowasthere]

GEMINI IN A HOT RED DRESS GEMI-

never make me do a magazine cover ever again. that shit alone took me like 2h or so.

anyway, i had a great time simping, hope this makes yall feel not ok abt them /pos

alt

[bloo-the-dragon]

Run Boy Run

A bit of an experimental one shot focusing on Bloodmoon (sams) and FC set when Bloodmoon was under Foxy and Monty's command many months ago, which is actually when i first drafted this lol. Woke up in a cold sweat and wrote most of it before forgetting about it until today.

So basically it's a what if situation where Stitchwraith shows up and Bloodmoon fulfils his command to protect FC. It's really not a redemption thing, more a what if they obeyed their command kinda deal. About 2.7k words!

(Also on AO3!)

~~~

Bloodmoon was guarding FC at the daycare. They did not want to be here. They would rather be anywhere else than stuck in this accursed place. Perhaps it would not be so bad if there was human children running around, but it was well after hours and it was just them and the little fox brat here. And he was under very strict orders not to harm the child lest they find theirselves swifted wiped from existence.

So here they sat, grumbling and clawing at the playmats as they were co-erced begrudginly into playing a game of castles by FC who wanted them to be the monster in the loch that surrounded his mighty castle made from those stupid barrels.

Admittedly the sight of the spherical objects made the twins a little uneasy, memories in the back of their shared mind of being faced with one held by a certain yellow animatronic, a flash of light and then nothing. But the barrels were supposedly safe now and no longer a danger. They remained skeptical of this, and so chose not to touch them leaving the fox child to stack them as he wished while they lay sprawled out on the ground, tearing fresh holes into the gross blue mats.

They wondered how much longer of this hell they would have to endure. One half was consistently egging the other to make a break for the doors, they could so easily clamber up the woodwork and squeeze between the gap toward their freedom. Multiple times the more logical half had to remind their erratic twin of the bomb planted so neatly into their head. And more so again as FC bonked them with a barrel to get their attention. They did snap their jaws in warning though, which ceased FC's actions and they snickered as the little fox suddenly startled and fell backwards.

However they quickly realised it was not them who caused FC to startle so. Hearing the sounds of uneven footsteps, they snapped their head around to see the Stitchwraith making it's way toward them.

Immedietely Bloodmoon was on their feet, teeth bared and claws out ready to attack. But experience had taught them to not immedietely jump and to be wary of the abomination as they knew it had many foul tricks up the cloak it wore. They made the mistake of jumping into action against it once, they would not do so again.

'FC' The Stitchwraith called out, drawing out the C' in a sickeningly soft voice. 'Come here, come to me.'

FC did not respond. He appeared to be too frightened, crouching behind the barrel that he had been hitting Bloodmoon with not a minute ago. Stitchwraith took another step forward and Bloodmoon growled, snapping their jaws in warning. The command to protect FC was starting to kick in in full and despite how much it sickened them, in the end they hated Stitchwraith more than they did the fox and his brat.

Stitchwraith seemed to notice their presence, and it called out to them next. 'Bloodmoon. Bring him to me. Now.'

Bloodmoon twitched at the command. They almost complied, the accursed instincts to follow orders activating. Plus it being Stitchwraith, someone they had unknowingly followed like an obediant dog for months.

But Stitchwraith was no longer their ward, their master. They had none.

Was Foxy their master? Coding said yes but Bloodmoon aggressively disagreed. 

The old fox had treated them well though, better than the others. While they were forbiddan to maim people they were still provided sustenance as meager as it was. Animal blood couldn't compare to human blood afterall. It was less sustaining. But it was something.

FC whimpered, as Stitchwraith called for him again. This time Bloodmoon recognised the voice, the so called 'nice' one. They knew it to be a lie. They knew that one was more a snake than the other.

The twins considered briefly their next course of action. One side, the more angry one wanted to follow as they had been told and to lunge, kill the Stitchwraith as was their command.

Attack ATTACK it is weak, we shall maim and tear and feast!

No.. Something is wrong brother. Surely you feel it too. Weakened as it is, i sense something is amiss.

Their spiral eyes narrowed, and they growled menacingly as they lowered themself to the ground ready to pounce or bolt. Yet there was something... off about the Stitchwraith. When they first spied it they immedietely noticed it appeared to be more damaged than it had been the last time they'd seen it. The steps it took were uneven and it walked with a heavy limp. They could hear a sickening grinding noise with every movement almost as if it were forcing itself to move. It did not sound comfortable. It sounded like it was in a great deal of pain.

And that meant it was weak. Less of a threat, easier to take down.

But still they'd held their ground. Past experience aside, the closer it got the more the twins sensed that it seemed to be almost more.. powerful than before. Despite how badly damaged it was, the red core that sat in the center of the mangled robots chest thrummed with such potent energy that even they could sense it.

The abomination's patience appeared to wane, as with a sudden burst of energy it took a couple of quick steps forward, claws outstretched toward FC.

'Come here. Now.'

Bloodmoon saw red. Quite literally.

The red core in Stitchwraith's chest began to glow and Bloodmoon reacted on pure instinct. Twisting their head, they clamped their teeth onto the scruff behind the tiny fox's neck elicting a startled yelp from the child before turning and bolting out of the daycare on all fours.

There was an angry shout, something that sounded like a 'No!' But Bloodmoon didn't dare look back, didn't slow down. They scrambled up the wooden doors and squeezed through the gap at the top just as one half had been pre-planning prior to this. As they lept down, the wooden doors cracked and splintered before bursting open with a looud bang behind them.

But the twins and the little fox within their jaws were already up the stairs. They ran faster, running in an erratic zigzag as bolts of red electrical like energy struck the ground on either side of them.

They dashed out of the daycare, their claws scrabbling to find grip on the marble floor that led toward the main entrance. They began making big leaps and bounds, almost like a bunny and at one point they even ran briefly across the wall before finally making it to the double doors leading to the pizzaria lobby.

They burst through the doors, nearly snapping one off its hinges in the process. They stop briefly to finally check behind them, to see how close the Stitchwraith was. They couldn't see it, they had managed to outrun it. But they knew better than to hang around in such an open space.

They looked around, the little fox swinging in their jaws as the red and blue animatronic searched frantically for a place to hide. One side pointed their shared view to a specific hole in the ceiling, meant for the elevator that sit broken by the escalators. It could work to hide them if they could get up there.

Wasting no time, they darted toward the giant glowing pillars that connected the elevator to the ceiling. They lunged and grabbed onto one, grunting and hissing as the bright light hurt their sensitive eyes. But they scrambled their way up it regardless and into the gaping space above.

They were able to only get up so far though as there was a metal barrier of some kind blocking the rest of the way. A safety measure should anything fall in from above they would assume. But they were up far enough that they should not be so easily spotted.

Bloodmoon adjusted theirself, finding purchase with their claws and supports for their feet to keep theirselves in place. FC remained scruffed in their teeth, and the little fox whimpered as he hung almost precariously, his eyes closed tight as to not look at the high distance between them and the ground below.

The red and blue jester hissed a low and dangerous 'quiet' just as the Stitchwraith appeared, slamming the daycare entryway doors aside and completely snapping the already broken one off the hinges.

Both Bloodmoon and FC went very still. They couldn't directly see Stitchwraith at this angle but they could hear as well as sense it. The eerie energy that radiated from it was all too hard to miss, as were the uneven footsteps and sounds of broken machinery as the mangled animatronic prowled below them.

'FC? Where are you buddy? If you hear me just call out! Did Bloodmoon hurt you? I'll come rescue you, don't worry'

FC didn't make a sound but Bloodmoon could feel him tremble, how the tiny fox curled in on himself even more tucking his legs and tail close. The smell of fear was strong and it took all of their effort to not give into the sudden urge to bite down fully.

More accursed mechanical noises, more soft calls carrying false words of encouragement and poisonous promise. At one point Bloodmoon spied the Stitchwraith as it moved below them. Their spiral eyes fixed on it immedietely following its every move with intense focus, their body completely still and tense and ready to lunge the moment the mangled robot turned its hooded head up toward the two.

But it did not. Instead the calls fell quiet and Bloodmoon could barely hear the angry hushed whispers to itself. With a sudden angry snarl accompanied by crackles of more red energy that had FC flinching harshly, Stitchwraith turned and stormed off in another direction once again leaving their line of sight.

However Bloodmoon dared not move, remaining completely still. Both sides were silent even in their mind, both being completely hyper focused with one side listening and looking out for the looming danger below them and the other holding back the bloodlust being triggered by FC's terror.

Even as the sounds grew softer and eventually disappeared entirely they did not dare to move. For all they knew, the Stitchwraith could still be nearby, waiting for them to come out of hiding so it could ambush them. They wern't taking the chance.

They knew not how long they stayed there. Could have been an hour, could have been ten minutes. Either way, FC started to whine softly the events taking its toll on the little fox. Bloodmoon growled a warning and that shut him up quick. But not a minute after, there were sounds of footsteps approaching which had both tensing up once again before a familiar voice followed.

'FC? FC Where are you? Bloodmoon? Either of you are you here?'

It was Foxy. FC perked up instantly, and with only slight hesitation called out to his dad.

'I'm here father!'

With that, Bloodmoon finally moved from his position, grabbing onto the accursed glowing pillar and sliding down it to where Foxy was waiting for them.

Bloodmoon released FC from their jaws, and the little fox instantly bolted away and over to Foxy. Bloodmoon twitched in a barely restrained effort to not automatically chase after him, but otherwise remained where they were, flexing their claws as they fought to calm their bloodlust as well as their own nerves.

Meanwhile Foxy checked over his son frantically. 'Are you alright? Did he hurt you?' Foxy immedietely shot Bloodmoon a glare as he noticed the faint bite mark on the back of his sons neck. While the faux fuzz skin was not torn, there were clear puncture marks.

Bloodmoon notices his glare and they let out a scoff, turning their head away. But FC is shaking his head drawing the older fox animatronic's attention back.

'No no! I am not hurt they... Bloodmoon saved me from the Stitchwraith!'. 

'I.. see' Foxy couldn't help the slight skeptisim from entering his voice but. 'Well.. Good. Glad to see you're capable of following orders then' Foxy directed his voice over to Bloodmoon. The red and blue jester shot him a snarl but they did not answer, instead plopping theirselves onto the floor and clawing halfheartedly at the carpet.

Foxy sighed, and turned back to his son. Aside from the bite mark he looked to be ok just a little shaken. 'I saw the Stitchwraith on the cams. Came here fast as i could. I'm sorry you had to deal with that but you're safe now.'

FC fiddled with his hands. 'Can we go home now?'

'Yeah kid, we can go home. Won't be back here for a while. I already gave Monty a call on my way down here so. He should be here soon, so just hang tight for a bit alright?'

'What if the Stitchwraith comes back?'

'Then we'll deal with it should happen. But i think it's gone for now and we won't be here for much longer.'

'Ok father..'

Foxy ruffled his sons head. 'Atta' boy.' He then stood and turned his attention to Bloodmoon, considering his options. They had done exactly as they were commanded which was... surprising honestly. Foxy had assumed they would have been torn apart by the Stitchwraith. Afterall their main purpose was to hold them off long enough for him or Monty to get down there. They had surprised him today.

Foxy hummed. He wondered.

While Foxy and FC were talking, Bloodmoon had tuned them out. They were starting to feel weary. The effort it took of holding back their bloodlust combined with the sudden burst of energy that had them bolting across the plex was starting to take its toll. The twins were tired and hungry and their arms and legs beginning to feel a little sore. Conflicting emotions swam within them from both sides. The satisfaction in their code of fulfilling their order to protect FC conflicting with the command denied to bring FC to the Stitchwraith as they were told to.

They hated this. Hated being stuck like this. Hated that they were bound to the commands of two masters. They knashed their teeth, wanting nothing more than to feast on soft flesh and warm blood before curling up and going to sleep.

They flinched as their name was called, flinching back as they realised the old fox was suddenly standing next to them. One half of them automatically hissed and swiped but the other half held them back as they processed a question that had been asked to them.

'What?'

Foxy had his hands held up in a non threatening manner. A difficult feat to accomplish when one had was literally a hook. 'Negative O. That's your favourite right?'

Bloodmoon tilted their head in a confused manner, but they warily nod. 'Alright, ok good got it' Foxy replies, 'listen you did good today so tell you what. I'll get you one blood bag as a treat. Maybe two if you behave between now and when we get home. Sound good?'

The twins do not answer, squinting at the old fox in suspicion. Was this a trick? Some kind of ploy? For what reason would he do this? They did not believe for a moment this 'good behaviour' shit he was spewing. They had simply done what they were commanded to do, nothing more.

However, the prospect of having actual human blood, and their favourite type no less was too good to pass up. They inwardly agreed with one another they could play the little nice nice game for a little longer too if it meant getting an extra bag so they nodded their head again.

'Alright good' Foxy nods mostly to himself before turning to FC. He had noted Bloodmoon looked tired and FC was looking increasingly like he could use a nap, the stress finally starting to take it's toll on the little fox. Bloodmoon too, as they stopped clawing up the carpet and resorted to curling up on the floor. Nasty place to lie down Foxy mused but he wasn't gonna tell them otherwise.

Eventually Monty did arrive and set up the portal back home. Foxy sent Bloodmoon and FC through first, and quickly passed on his request to Monty to grab the two negative o blood bags for Bloodmoon to which the gator agreed. As he passed through the portal himself Foxy wondered if perhaps he could use this as a consistant reward for good behaviours in future to keep Bloodmoon in line.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Loving Memory: A Retelling of East of the Sun, West of the Moon

The woman striding across the ballroom floor takes my breath away. She is perfection in human form--regal and statuesque, with hair like a raven's wing, skin like a fresh fall of snow, and ice-blue eyes that can captivate a man's heart.

And the gown! It makes her beauty seem almost divine. It shimmers and swirls like rivers of gold, making the icy-white marble of the floor and walls glow with the light of the sun that has not shone here for a month of days. I nearly fall to my knees, but I am a prince--soon to be a king--so I merely bow over her hand, lead her into the dance, and thank heaven for our impending marriage. Jorunn knows I do not love her, but at moments like these, I have no doubt that I shall.

We whirl through the dancers, the lords and ladies assembled for our upcoming wedding, all of them flawless in form, wearing suits and gowns of impossible beauty--a rainbow of velvets and silks, gold and jewels. My betrothed outshines them all. I feel clumsy and common in comparison, and marvel yet again that I am deemed worthy to join--and soon rule--this court.

When the dance ends, I bring Jorunn to the refreshment table, where we take glasses of sweet blue punch.

"You should drink your tonic, darling," Jorunn says, removing a small silver flask from a pocket in her skirt.

"Must I?" I ask, glancing to the watching crowd. I usually take the tonic before bed, in private. I don't relish my future subjects knowing that their king is an invalid.

"You must have your strength tonight," she says, pouring what looks like a double dose into my punch. The icy blue liquid turns a murky amber.

I down the drink in one gulp, cringing as the bitter aroma fills my head. I swear I can feel it coursing through my limbs. They feel heavier than they had a moment before. My head feels murkier.

It passes in a moment, and once again I'm overjoyed to be here, with her, in this impossibly beautiful realm.

I kiss Jorunn's cheek and thank her for her watchfulness. I feel as if I could dance all night.

The music starts up--an enticing melody of flutes and strings--but just as I pull Jorunn into the dance, a commotion starts at the other edge of the crowd. The music stops, and the crowd parts to reveal...something...crossing the floor. Some kind of animal has entered the ballroom--smaller than a bear, larger than a dog, with patches of fur in every shade of white and black and brown.

As it comes nearer, I see that it walks upright on two legs--two human legs, with two small, white human hands poking out from the folds of the fur.

"What is it?" I ask Jorunn. "Who let it into the ballroom?"

"I did," Jorunn says. "She is my invited guest."

I bow my head in embarrassment. "I'm...certain she's quite charming."

Jorunn pushes my shoulder, gently urging me toward the girl. "Dance with her, Eirik."

"I?" I yelp. How could a prince--a future king--demean himself by dancing with such a creature before all his subjects. "Why?"

Jorunn tilts her head toward me and murmurs, "Because I keep my promises. This girl is the one who gifted me this dress, and in return all she asked was a dance with you."

"A strange boon to demand from a woman about to be married," I say. Stranger still that Jorunn granted it.

"We aren't wed yet," Jorunn says playfully. "I can't keep you all to myself, no matter how much I may wish to." She urges me toward the girl. "Go on, my love. It's not too much to ask."

Despite myself, I feel a pang of pity for the creature. She gave away a dress fit for a queen and had to appear in this ballroom in a bundle of furs. Such unselfishness merits a few minutes of kindness. "For your sake, my dear," I say, bowing over Jorunn's hand. "And for hers. I assure you I'll take no joy in it."

Jorunn smiles. "I've no worries on that account."

#

Fighting a feeling of revulsion, I approach the girl, bow, and offer my hand. "Might I have this dance?"

The girl--she barely reaches my shoulder--looks up at me. A white face appears from within the furry hood--a pointed chin, high cheekbones, a determined mouth, and defiant green eyes.

The woman faintly smiles, and my heart stops. In this palace of perfection, she seems so real. Not ice and gold and glamour, but sun and earth and, oh, a million ordinary, beautiful things I haven't thought about since I came to this place.

"Who are you?" I gasp, the words slipping out before I can think.

Her eyes go wide--confused and dismayed. She throws back her hood, revealing yellow hair. Not golden or raven or mahogany or any of the awe-inspiring shades that make the people of this realm so beautiful. Just yellow. But it is braided into a crown about her head that suits her better than any jewels.

Those green eyes meet mine. "You know me," she says.

I stare into those eyes, which seem to hold something I haven't known I've lost. If I know this girl, I can't remember her. My past before this palace is a murky haze--standing in such brightness makes everything else seem dim.

I shake away the threads of memory before I go mad from trying to grasp them. "Forgive me," I say, "but if we've met, I can't recall."

I signal to the musicians to start the music, and I sweep the fur-clad maiden into a waltz. She is silent as we dance, gazing up at my face as if trying to memorize me.

I say, trying to be kind, "That's a wondrous cloak you wear. I've never seen its like."

It's not a lie. It seems to be made of the skin of every beast there ever was. I see white fur, black fur, brown fur, some solid, some speckled, some striped, all stitched together in a haphazard pattern, as though someone was desperate to make use of every scrap.

The woman looks down. "It is all I had left to me, after..."

I kindly wait for her to speak.

"I've had a great loss," she finally says. "I have searched ever since to find you."

"If there is anything I can do for you," I say, "you need only ask. You have done a great service for my bride."

The girl stumbles.

I catch her and help her upright. "I am sorry. Did I trip you?"

"No," she gasps, grasping her side. As we slide into the dance again, she looks up into my face. "Do you truly not know me?"

"I wish I could say otherwise," I say, and I mean it with all my heart. There is something about this girl that makes the world seem larger than I realized. "Perhaps if you told me your name?"

She shakes her head. "I can't. Even if I could, what good would my name do if you've already forgotten my face?" She bows her head with a strangled noise, and I see tears streaming from her eyes. "I spent so many months imagining this moment. I hoped you'd be overjoyed to see me. I was afraid you'd hate me. But I never imagined...this. That I meant so little to you that you've already forgotten me."

"There is much I have forgotten," I say, before I can remember that none are supposed to know of my affliction. "This place, it...dazzles the mind. There are many things I wish I could recall about the world beyond this realm. If I knew you there, I am certain you were well worth remembering, and it pains me to say that I do not. But whatever we had before, I am glad to know you now."

She wipes her face against the fur on her sleeve. When she looks up at me, her eyes hold something like hope. "Do you think--"

The music slows to a stop, and before we can finish the step, Jorunn steps between me and the girl. She places one hand on the girl's chest and pushes her away. "You've had your dance," she says. "Now trouble us no more."

The girl steps away, but she takes a hesitant glance back at me.

I smile gently. "Thank you for the dance. I will remember your face next time."

Those words put a determination into her gaze that seems instantly to dry her tears. "I will see you again," she says and disappears into the crowd.

For the rest of the night, I dance with the queen of the realm at the top of the world, a peerless beauty with the radiance of the sun who lays a kingdom at my feet. But my thoughts are on a girl with green eyes, wearing a coat made of all kinds of fur.

#

At the next night's ball, Jorunn wears a sleek gown that gleams with the silver radiance of the moon. It makes her seem ethereal, a woman of wondrous mystery. But she is not the mystery I find myself pondering.

"You seem distracted tonight, Eirik," she says. "Have you taken your tonic?"

Upon my denial, she pours a dose into my punch glass. After one swallow, my racing thoughts begin to slow. What does that strange girl matter? I can be happy here, with this incomparable queen at my side.

A commotion begins on the other side of the ballroom, and the many-furred girl appears among the crowd. I take a hasty swallow of the tonic, but set down the punch glass while it's still half-full.

I look to Jorunn, whose eyes are narrowed toward the girl. "Another dance in exchange for tonight's dress?" I ask.

"Two," Jorunn says. "She drives a hard bargain."

I squeeze her hand. I know my duty with this marriage. She has no need to be jealous. "I will do what I must," I say. "We must keep our promises."

I smile as I approach the girl. She smiles in response, and it makes her more radiant than Jorunn's dress. Again, I am struck by how real she is, practical and solid in a world of wisps and dreams.

"You returned," I say, as I whisk her into a waltz.

"I said I would," she replies.

"I'm glad to know you keep your promises."

She winces, and tears spring to her eyes.

"Forgive me," I say. "I don't wish to cause pain."

"No," she says, shaking her head and wiping her tears into a furred sleeve. "It is no more than I deserve."

"You have broken promises?" It seems cruel to ask, but I think she might welcome the question. It could shed some light on the past that she wants me to remember.

"Only one," she says. "But it destroyed everything."

I remember what she said about her cloak last night. It was all that was left to me. I have suffered a great loss.

"We all break promises sometimes," I say, trying to soothe her.

"Not like mine," she insists. "I did the one thing I was asked not to do. I betrayed the man I loved, and now he is lost to me."

"And he is why you have sought me out? You think I can convince him to forgive you?"

She looks into my face for a long, long moment, step after step, turn after turn. "I don't think," she says at last, "that he knows there is anything to forgive. And that's the worst thing of all."

How can this man be lost to her if he doesn't know she betrayed him? Has she run from her failure, rather than face disgrace?

I know well the temptation to hide from dishonor. Don't I hide my own affliction? This girl has no kingdom to run, but she still has pride to protect.

"Tell him," I say.

Tears flow freely down her cheeks. "I can't."

"I can help you."

"You can't!" she says, dropping my hand. She buries her face in her sleeve. "I don't know why I came."

I place a hand on her shoulder, and fight the strangest urge to turn it into an embrace. "Forgive me," I say. "You come to me for help, and I only cause you pain."

She wipes her face and swallows down a sob. "It's not your fault," she says. "Here I am, wasting our dance by crying."

The song fades to a close. "I still owe you another." I find myself panicked at the thought she won't take it.

"You do," she says, with a wet little laugh. My heart leaps at the sound of it. "Will you give me a chance to compose myself?"

"Take all the time you need," I say, leading her to a seat by a towering window that looks out upon the vast snow plains and a gorgeous spectacle of northern lights. She sits in the soft wing-backed chair and looks out the window, while I stand behind her leaning over the headrest. Despite knowing Jorunn for months, I have yet to have a moment with her that feels this...comfortable.

In the blue-black night, ribbons of violet, blue and green dance and flicker across the sky. The girl snuggles into her robe and gazes upon them with wonder.

"Have you ever seen such lights?" I ask. No matter how many times I see them, they never lose their appeal.

"Many times," she says. "Perhaps not quite this beautiful. Though they are lovely when seen from outside." She lays her head contentedly on her arm rest, using her furs as a pillow.

Her phrasing surprises me. "Do you often travel at night?"

"Night after night after night," she says. "Day after day after day. I never stopped. I climbed mountains, crossed rivers, rode the backs of all four winds."

"To find me," I say. "To find the man you love."

She startled and sits up, looking me straight in the eye. "Yes," she breathes, quivering with excitement.

"I wish I knew how to help you," I say. "You must love him very much."

Her shoulders sink. She sighs. "More than you may ever know."

"I only pray my wife and I can know such love."

She examines me closely. "You mean the princess. Do you mean to say you don't love her?"

It seems improper to speak of such things, and yet I find myself able to tell this girl things I couldn't tell anyone else. Why should I speak less than the truth? "Ours is a political match," I say. "I find her beautiful. I respect her strength. I appreciate her care for me. Love can come with time."

"What would she need to do to make you love her? What would you want in a wife?"

Someone who can come into a ballroom clad in furs and not feel shame. Someone who knows how to laugh and cry. Someone who loves to watch the northern lights. Someone who travels night and day to apologize to a man she betrayed.

In the end, I choose the diplomatic answer. "I don't know that I can ask for more than what I already have."

#

The girl is quieter during our second dance, carefully content. Her tears are stored away and she will not risk letting them out again.

Now that I'm not distracted by the mystery of her identity, or my lack of memory, or her sorrow over her lost love, I am able to focus on the dance itself, and I find that she is a marvelous dancer. Not so supernaturally graceful as Jorunn, but surprisingly easy to dance with, especially considering that she is wrapped in furs. The woman follows at my every touch, stepping smoothly through turns, patiently waiting if I stumble. I don't stumble often. My limbs feel lighter tonight, my head clearer--strange, given that I've had only half a dose of tonic.

"How did you come to have such wondrous dresses," I ask, "when you have only furs to wear yourself?" The question that had been easy to dismiss last night now seems impossible to ignore.

"You meet lots of strange people when you travel the world," she says with a smile. "They were gifts from some of the most marvelous old women I've ever met. Of course, I've had no occasion to wear them."

"A royal ball is not reason enough?"

"Not if I can't get inside. I'd rather have the dance than the dress."

A dance with me, worth more than a gown of celestial wonders? All for the chance I could help her reconcile with her lost love?

"I am sorry to have been such a disappointment."

"You're not that," she insists. "It's been wonderful just to see you."

"Worth a trip around the world and two wondrous dresses?"

"Not quite," she admits with a smile. "But enough for now. There's still time."

The music slows and falls silent. I bow her out of the dance. "Not for us, I'm afraid. I can give you no more dances."

"Tomorrow, then," she says, smiling over her shoulder as she disappears into the crowd.

Something about her glance--the twist of her hair, the angle of her head--sparks what might be a memory in my mind. Those green eyes flashing. That mouth open in a laugh. White flakes flashing around her as she runs through the snow, while I follow her--strangely--on all fours.

I cannot explain the memory or remember her name. But I do know, whatever her name is, or whatever she was to me, that somewhere in the past, in some way, I have loved her.

#

The next evening, the last night before our wedding, Jorunn wears a deep blue dress that shimmers with the light of the stars themselves. It is breathtakingly beautiful, but coldly, distantly so--like the woman who wears it. She doesn't smile like the girl with the furs. She doesn't converse while we dance--we can't think of anything to speak of. I can think of no part of my heart I could share with her as I did with the girl last night. I wonder how I thought I could ever grow to love her.

Tonight, Jorunn's offer of the tonic seems, not considerate, but overbearing. Last night I had only half a dose, and I felt better than ever. After Jorunn pours a dose into my punch, I barely sip at it, and when her back is turned, I dump the rest into a potted plant. There will be no more dances after our wedding tomorrow. If I'm to help the girl find her lost love, I want my mind to be as clear as possible.

The glance Jorunn gives the strange girl as she enters the dining room is cold enough to freeze. The girl doesn't seem to feel it through her furs. When Jorunn hands me off, her behavior toward the girl is sullen and hostile.

The girl smiles and curtsies. "The dress is stunning on you, majesty."

"It ought to be, for what it cost me." Jorunn starts to stride away, but then turns around and levels a fierce finger toward the girl. "Not a moment past the stroke of midnight."

The girl bows her head. "I know the bargain."

"Until midnight?" I ask, as I lead the girl into a dance.

The girl smiles. "For tonight, at least, I have you all to myself."

We dance a few dances, while the girl asks me on occasion if I remember anything about my life before. I have flashes of images that might be memories, but nothing that will help the girl in her search. After a while, the girl grows warm in her furs, and we leave the ballroom for the cold quiet of the balcony.

Together, we gaze at the stars and across the vast plains of snow. I remember seeing her like this, on a sunlit balcony in a faraway palace. I wanted to kiss her then, but I couldn't. Probably because she loved another. Just as I am promised to another now.

"Please," I ask in a low whisper. "Can't you tell me your name?"

She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. "Please stop asking. If you don't know it on your own, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It is part of the bargain."

Does Jorunn know who this girl is? "The queen isn't here."

The girl squeezes her eyes shut against some memory. "I have seen the consequences of breaking promises to her. I will not risk it again."

It destroyed everything.

"Your lost love?" I ask.

She nods.

How could that great queen separate this woman from the man she so faithfully loves? What role could Jorunn possibly have in this spat between lovers?

We start down a staircase that leads to a stone path through the snow around the palace. The light from the ballroom windows pours out over us, shining on the girl's furs. The cloak I wear is mostly decorative, and I find myself wishing for furs of my own.

I wore a coat of white fur, thicker than thick.

The flash of memory has no bearing on the mystery I'm trying to solve.

I ask the girl, "If Jorunn knows of your lost love, why do you come to me for help? Why do you not ask her?"

"Allowing me to speak to you is all the help she is willing to give."

I do not begin to understand the complicated politics of this realm. When I am king, I will have to learn, but I will rely on Jorunn for a long while.

"After our wedding, perhaps, I can ask her to help..."

"After the wedding, it will be too late!" She storms down the path. "You'll be married to a woman you don't love! She'll have trapped you forever!"

I try to soothe her. "She won't be able to stop me from speaking to you."

She throws her hands in the air. "You don't understand! You'll never understand!" She is sobbing now. "It was hopeless from the beginning! You can't see the truth about her, or me, and I've no way to tell you! I've doomed us all! I don't deserve redemption, or mercy, or even compassion! I'm the faithless wife who threw away love!"

As she speaks the last words, something flies off her hand, flashing golden as it spirals into the snow. The girl flees down the path, silently sobbing.

I dive for the divot in the snow where the item fell. I pull out a small golden ring set with amethysts and emeralds and ice blue diamonds--the northern lights captured in stone. The ring glitters on my palm, round and flawless. I remember its every facet.

By the One who made the sky and stone, I pledge my heart and soul to you.

Clutching the ring, I race after her and call out, "Karina!"

#

I stood outside a cottage, trapped in the form of a white bear. The girl with a crown of yellow hair faced me fearlessly and agreed to be my bride, sliding the golden ring upon her left hand.

#

Short sunlit days on a beautiful tundra. She would ride on my back for hours, laughing for sheer joy as we raced across the snowy fields.

#

For nearly a year, she shared my bed. I was man by night and bear by day. She was forbidden to see my face and did not mind.

#

A year and a day, and the curse would be broken. Eleven months after our wedding, I woke to hot wax dripping on my shirt, from a candle she held over my face.

#

The palace dissolved into dust, and the troll queen arrived to claim her lawful prize. My wife screamed my name as I disappeared into a whirlwind of magic and snow.

#

In the shadows and snowbanks far from the palace, I grip Karina's shoulders and gaze deep into her familiar, beloved face. "Karina," I breathe. "I remember."

"Everything?" she asks, as tears stream down her face.

"Everything," I say, and kiss her senseless.

#

Karina and I sit huddled together beneath her coat of furs. I have told her of my months of imprisonment, of the magical tonic the troll queen forced upon me until I thought myself a willing captive. Karina has told me of the harrowing journey she has taken--the three dresses she received from three magical women, the way she rode the backs of all four winds to find me. If there was ever anything to forgive her for, the devotion she has shown in finding me more than absolves her.

I kiss her again as she finishes her tale, finding joy in finding her so real, in knowing my own mind and knowing her.

My own.

My beloved.

My wife.

It is like falling in love all over again.

"I'm so sorry," Karina says again. "I should never have listened to mother. If I hadn't burned that hateful candle--"

I silence her with another kiss. "If you hadn't betrayed me, I wouldn't have this moment. Meeting my wife all over again." I press her to my heart. "I could have no greater joy."

"But you're getting married tomorrow," Karina says. "By the terms of the curse, you must wed Jorunn."

"Trust me," I say, "and all will be well. So long as you will let me borrow your wedding ring."

#

In the bright light of midday, the ballroom has become a wedding chapel, filled nearly to bursting with lords and ladies and lesser subjects. I now know them for what they are--trolls whose perfect human appearances are nothing but glamours over huge, thick, ugly faces. My would-be wife is ugliest of all, her cruelty coming out upon her in black boils upon her snow-white face and long, pointed nose. The glamour hides her face for now, but it cannot hide the malicious triumph as she gazes upon me--her pet and prize. Her wedding to me will give her dominion over a human realm, and allow her kind to wreak havoc across the world of ordinary men.

She wears the golden sunlight gown, but in daylight, it seems dim and colorless. Even her flawless glamoured face is ugly when I compare her to my ordinary, beloved Karina. My wife is somewhere in the crowd, I know. She has promised to be here, and I trust her to keep her promises.

I do my best to play the magic-addled prince as the highest-ranking of the lords reads aloud their marriage ceremony--endless lists of the glories this alliance will bring to our two realms.

At last, the high lord cries out, merely for form's sake, "Is there any impediment to the marriage between this man and woman?"

"Only one," I shout, stepping away from Jorunn.

Jorunn's expression is black. I can almost see the troll's face beneath the glamour. "Eirik, what is this?"

"Under the laws of troll-kind," I tell the crowd, "Queen Jorunn can wed me if she keeps me here for a year and a day. But there is another law--as would-be husband to the queen, I have a right to set a standard for my bride. If she fails to meet it, all bond between us comes to an end." I stride across the dais to stare into Jorunn's black eyes. "All bonds," I say. "Matrimonial, moral, and magical. Isn't that right?"

Jorunn seems a heartbeat away from tearing out and eating my eyeballs, so I turn to the lord performing the marriage rite. "Isn't that right?"

The troll lord blinks at me. His human form looks like a jittery old man. "That is... technically correct," he says. "But I don't believe this is the right time."

"There is no better time!" I say. "The very last moment when I can see if she is worthy to be my bride."

Jorunn is proud, regal, icy. She steps toward me. "What is your challenge?" she demands. "Make it anything, and I will meet it."

No doubt she thinks she can. I have seen what her magic can do. If I set an enormous challenge--moving a mountain, emptying a sea--she will accomplish it easily. Fortunately, the challenge I plan is impossibly small.

"In the human realm," I say, "we marry under another law--older and more sacred. This marriage rite is bound by the words of a man and woman, and symbolized in the exchange of a pair of rings." I brandish the Karina's ring and hold it high. "By that law, my lawful wife is the one who fits this ring, and I can wed no other."

I search the room for Karina, but I can see her nowhere in the teeming, agitated crowd.

Jorunn stride toward me and snatches the ring from my hand. "Is that all?" she sneers. "Any woman can do that."

Her glamour has fooled even herself. She has forgotten that her hands only appear slender. Trolls can change the forms of others--into a white bear, for instance--even addle the minds of others into believing in changes that aren't real, but their own bodies are impervious to magic. Any alterations to themselves are mere glamours. Beneath her glamoured image, Jorunn's hands are as thick and blocky as any troll's.

Jorunn is unable to slip the ring onto so much as a fingertip.

In rage, she throws the ring onto the floor. It bounces down the stairs and lays flat at their base. "A trick!" she cries. "He has set an unfair challenge! Find me a woman who can fit that ring, or else the challenge is void!"

In the snowy plains outside, I hear the wind building in strength--a whistle, a howl, and at last a roar that bursts open the wide doors of the ballroom. The wind blows the crowd of trolls toward the walls and down to the floor, leaving an open path down which a tiny, yellow-haired girl, clad in a cloak made of every kind of fur, strides fearlessly toward the dais.

I climb down the stairs, pick up the ring, and go down on one knee to offer it to Karina. This time, I can do it with human hands.

"My lady," I say, gazing up into her smiling eyes. "Will you take this ring?"

I slide it upon the fourth finger of her left hand. It fits perfectly.

I kiss her in triumph as Jorunn roars with rage.

Her roar is soon drowned out by the roar of a wind that surrounds me and Karina, lifts us into the air, and carries out the ballroom doors. Soon, we are soaring over snow-covered plains, and before I can fully understand that I am free, the pointed towers of the troll's icy palace have disappeared from sight.

Karina lays on her stomach, the pale blue currents of wind keeping her aloft. She helps me to do the same. While I marvel at this miraculous wind, she is perfectly at ease, and I realize she has done this. My ordinary, unmagical, entirely human wife has saved me.

"Eirik," Karina says, "I would like to introduce you to an old friend of mine."

#

The North Wind takes us far beyond the tundra where I lived with Karina as a white bear, beyond even the cottage where she lived with her parents, and to a castle in a rocky mountain range that I remember from my boyhood. As the wind sets us upright on the ground before the main doors, I laugh for joy.

"Am I...?" I ask, barely able to believe that I'm standing in this place, where I can recognize every rock and flower that emerges from the melting snow of the springtime ground.

The North Wind now looks like a man--huge and old, with an impossibly large beard. "Prince Eirik," he says, "I have brought you and your bride to the lands of your family."

The full understanding of my freedom comes upon me. Not only am reunited with my bride, not only am I free of enchantment, but I am home, able to move about in the ordinary world like any ordinary man. After so many years of magic, I can think of nothing more wondrous.

I sweep Karina up in my arms and point her gaze toward the door. "Come, my love," I say. "I've waited a very long time to take you home."