Goodie sat next to Armie, as he twisted and moaned upon the cot, his wound feverish and smelling of rot. “Tell me a story,” she said to Avarice.
“Can’t, too far, too far,” he said, clacking his sharp, black beak.
“Too far?” Castor asked.
“He’s too far from momma,” Goodie answered, her voice weak and dejected. “I am so alone.”
Castor’s wolf went and laid her head in Goodie’s lap and Castor began speaking, “Once upon a time there was a pretty girl who met two brothers, one tall, dark-haired and handsome and the other one who had a wolf….”