The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [10]
Then Prince George saw the bear. He started, then stretched out a hand.
“Bear, it has been too long,” he said, and waved at the bear to come closer.
The other humans were wide-eyed at the sight of a huge bear approaching them, with the exception of one boy, who had very blond hair and a pinched face. He was utterly blank when he looked at the bear, as if he had never felt fear. Or had felt it too much and could feel it no longer.
“Where is—” said Marit suddenly.
And then the hound moved so that she could be seen.
Marit threw her arms up and raced toward the hound, throwing herself to her knees and giving her a fierce embrace.
The hound stared at Marit, so tall and thin. Her red hair, once worn in the long style that her father and his kingdom expected of a noblewoman, was now cut very short. It stuck up all around her ears, but somehow it suited her. It made her look younger, and it fit the freckles that still dominated her face.
“We could not come. The danger of those who hate the animal magic is still so strong—we feared for you if we were seen to seek you,” said Marit in a jumble of words. “We only dare to come into the forest here, at the very edge, and always we are careful to speak to different animals, so there is no pattern that can be seen by our enemies. Even so—” She stopped and turned to Prince George.
Gravely he said, “There has been more than one of those innocents we spoke to who have died. The burned body of one was left at the castle gate, as a clear warning to us. This has been the first chance we have had to come out into the forest in safety.”
“Mar—” Marit started to say to the hound, then checked herself. “I don’t know what to call you now.”
The hound stared blankly. It had been the princess who had insisted on giving her a name. And after George loved her as a hound, she had taken that name for her own. It was confusing, if one cared about names. The hound did not.
Marit sighed. “‘Hound’ will have to do for now, I suppose. But how good it is to see you, truly. You look well.”
The hound supposed it was true. She had more fresh meat now than she had had with the princess. And living in the forest gave her plenty of exercise.
“Ah, Bear,” said Marit, stepping back. “It is good to see you, too.” She put out a hand and touched the bear’s back, then turned back to the hound.
“I must admit, being with you here makes me feel at home in a way that nothing else has.” She took a breath and smiled ruefully. “Not even my own pillow, which George rode all the way to Sarrey to get for me when I mentioned to him once that I missed the smell of it. Three days he was gone, and used up two horses on the way. Just to get me a pillow. Can you imagine?” She shook her head and there was a hint of blush in her cheeks.
The hound remembered the possum the bear had brought to her when she was wounded and unable to move away from the cave herself. For her, too, it was a strange thing to be taken care of.
“Well, let’s introduce them, shall we, George?” she said.
George bowed to her. He looked older and more self-assured, as much a man as a boy. As much a king as a prince, if only of this small part of his kingdom. His shirt was ragged and stained on the cuffs, and he seemed completely unaware of it. He had also put on some pounds around his chest and stomach—not all of it muscle.
“Sometimes I still do not believe my memories of that day, and my magic,” said George. “It is good to see the truth before my face again.”
The bear made a strange low sound.
Prince George moved gingerly closer to him. The bear’s mouth gaped open, showing his huge, sharp teeth. George stared straight at them, then put his arms around the bear’s shoulders and let his head rest there. Suddenly he seemed young again, hardly more than a boy.
He took a deep breath and pulled himself away.
“This is the bear and the hound I have told you about,” he said, turning back to the others in the group.
Turning to the bear, George waved at the humans. “This