His head, too, felt thinner, bonier—almost fragile. Placing her palm between his ears, she glanced at the little window high above them. How many hours left in the day? How long until they brought him food?

To remind herself of cloud-scudding skies and grass-warm breezes, she sang a little.

“The meadows now all wait for us,

the hills, the cliffs, the stream.…”

When the guard finally came to fetch her for her meal, she had fallen asleep, the wolf’s head still resting in her lap. She woke to the sound of keys jangling outside. The little square above was dim—it must be almost night.

“Come.” The guard with the moon-shadowed eyes leaned through the door. “Your meal is ready.”

Rae rubbed her eyes. “No,” she said. “I want to see the wolf eat first.”

His face tightened with alarm. He glanced down the hall. “You mustn’t refuse!”

Rae set her chin. “No. I must see that he’s fed. I won’t eat until he does.”

The guard paused a long moment. But then, moons growing more hollow, he shut and locked the door. Rae listened to his steps grow faint.

A few minutes later, they returned, accompanied by another set. The key scraped in the lock, and the door opened a crack.

“See here!” said a voice that was not the guard’s. “Girl. Look.”

Rae, lifting the wolf’s head from her lap, rose and crossed to the doorway.

There in the hall was the man who had spoken to her with such a sickly sweet voice, the man the king called Governor-Advisor. His arms were wrapped around a platter heaped with bloody meats. “You see,” he said. “The wolf eats quite well.”

Rae glanced at the wolf. He was standing, nose quivering at the pink piles of flesh he could smell but not see. His ears, too, upright, trembling, pointed toward the door. A silver thread of drool slid from his mouth.

Rae felt a wave of relief. So he did eat.

“Come now.” The guard gestured. “Let’s bring you to your own dinner so the wolf might eat his.”

Rae slipped through the opening. The wolf, agitated, slavering, rushed after her, and the guard hurried to close the door. A hideous yelping resounded behind the wood.

“You see?” the honey-thick voice returned. “He becomes too wild when food is nearby.” The advisor leaned as though he wished to tell Rae a secret. “We cannot feed him with you in the chamber. We would not wish to harm you,” he said.

Rae, seeing the way his mouth wriggled, felt her stomach turn.

“Come.” The guard prodded. “Your meal.”

Rae allowed herself to be guided away. Several times, she glanced back down the long corridor. Each time she looked, the governor-advisor was still at the door, the platter of meat still in his arms. Even muffled by wood and stone, the wolf’s frenzied snarlings echoed down the hall. At the end of the passage, she looked one last time: The governor-advisor gave a small wave. His mouth gave a small squirm.