Page 3 of Their Cursed Wolves

“What would you, uh, like to do, my lady?” he asks, looking at the bright orange metal in the forge, probably knowing that it’s time to take it out. “You could etch designs on it, or just tell me what you’d like to have on it, and I could do my best with it, or–”

“Oh, no,” I say, “just pull it out and hold it up. I’ll do the rest.”

He looks uncertain, but he puts on his gloves, grabs his tongs, and pulls the extremely hot, long piece of sword-shaped metal out. Even as it leaves the fire, it continues to glow orange, and I know that it’s ready to be welded. I can feel it.

I hold out my hands. Heat radiates from the blade, even from a distance, warming something inside of me. I close my eyes and listen, opening myself up to the magic within me. The sword whispers to me, and I move my hands. It wants its bearer to be sure when they carry it, when they fight with it. The sword wants its welder to be capable of winning wars, and know they can, just by touching the steel.

I can do that, I whisper back to it, and my hands move in a flurry. It needs sharp edges, a deadly point, and symbols that imbue its bearer with confidence. Confidence down to their bones.

I work as fast as I can, as fast as the images and feelings hit me, and it’s kind of a shock when I realize I’m done, and my hands drop.

When I open my eyes again, I see exactly what I saw in my mind. A deadly sword with beautiful carvings. There are symbols carved all down the side of it and even on the hilt, ancient letters older than both the witches and shifters, although remembered by many. It’s now a work of art as much as it’s a fierce weapon.

Rivet and Lady Scarlet are staring, mouths hanging open.

I point at it and smile. “The person who uses this sword will be confident, because that’s what they need more than anything else. They will know that they can do anything and everything that needs to be done, without hesitation.”

Rivet swipes at the air with it and turns to face me with wide eyes. “I made this sword for myself, but until now I didn’t know what I needed…”

That warms my heart. “Don’t worry, the metal always knows.”

He shakes his head, awe in his voice. “Thank you so much. It’s beautiful, and I do feel different with it in my hands. Better. I can’t believe it.”

I nod and smile at him, happy to be able to do what I love, if only for a moment. “Thank you for letting me help!”

He lowers the sword, and our eyes lock. “You are welcome back in my shop any time you’d like.”

I’ve made a friend. “I’ll hold you to that, Rivet!”

Lady Scarlet clears her throat. “Shall we keep going?”

I nod. “Goodbye, Blacksmith Rivet.”

He bows again, but he seems more confident this time. “Goodbye, Princess Tara.”

Outside, Lady Scarlet turns to me. “They told me they'd seen you work with metal, but I didn’t really understand what the men were whispering about. You made a valknut in the Deadly Passage, right? Like you just made that sword?”

I’m a little uncomfortable now, even though I don’t know why. “Yes. I didn’t know what I was making in the Deadly Passage though. I was just doing what the metal wanted.”

She gives a little smile, her expression funny. “I guess that’s your version of shifting because it was absolutely something to marvel at.”

I blush at the compliment, glad she’s not upset with me. It’s not often my magic is praised. The witches never appreciated my magic. This town must be a place of new beginnings.

The children who were walking with us are milling around, waiting for us to come out. A rosy cheeked little girl steps in front of me holding the most beautiful crown of purple and orange flowers I’ve ever seen. “Princess, would you like this? I made it for you.”

I smile down at her, even though these shifters are so big that she’s not all that much smaller than me. “I would love that.”

I lean down and let her place it on my head. Standing, I smile. “It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

“Is it true you’re a witch?” another girl asks from the group.

All eyes are on me.

“It’s true,” I say.

A boy stands up tall. Taller than me. “That can’t be true. Witches can kill you with a touch.”

“Make your skin boil with a glance,” another one says.

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