The Wolf Princess

by Cathryn Constable

  I am a girl in a wolf garden, Sophie thought. I am about to be torn to pieces. Those teeth will sink into my flesh any moment now! Why am I singing?

  She wanted it to be soon. She wanted it to be over. She knew without looking that they were all gathered at the foot of the steps, and this waiting was unbearable. If she had been on a roof, she would have jumped. If she were on a sinking ship, she would have hurled herself into the sea … anything to end this dreadful wait.

  She sang louder. Her father’s song. Or was it Dmitri’s song? She heard his voice in the chandelier mixing with her father’s half-remembered lullaby. She heard the wolves’ rasping breath. Did she dare to open one eye?

  At the front of the pack was their leader: larger, heavier-boned. The rest stood around him at the bottom of the steps, just as she had imagined, immobile as the statues. She noticed the way the snow clung to their pelts. One — a younger one, surely — had his tongue lolling out. Even in that blink of a moment, she understood clearly the structure of the pack, how the younger wolves waited for the old wolf to move.

  She started to cry when she thought what was to come, and the song came out weirdly, the rhythm syncopated by sobs. She sniffed and tried to sing harder. It would make the last few minutes easier, surely?

  Sophie closed her eyes again and sang even louder.

  She could hear the wolves inch toward her up the steps, but when she opened her eyes once more, they were crouching on their haunches.

  Sophie stopped singing.

  Then the wolves put their heads back and, as one animal, the pack howled, the sound running up Sophie’s spine. Silence. She watched them, horrified but fascinated at the same time. She heard Marianne cry to Delphine, “I can’t bear to look.”

  Sophie put her head back and sang. The old wolf at the front nodded his head and licked his lips. He loped up the steps, regarding her with his red, flashing eyes, and stopped just below her.

  Sophie tried to draw her feet even closer under her. The wolf sniffed the air above where her feet had been. Again, she tried to tuck them underneath her, wrapping her arms around herself. But perhaps it would be better to just put out her leg and let him bite it … would it be quicker that way? She wanted it to be quick. She pushed her foot toward the edge of the step through the snow, and cried out as the wolf stretched forward his powerful neck and brought his mouth right up to her shoe.

  Then she saw the rosette of dried blood on the wolf’s side where the bullet had grazed him.

  “It’s you!” she gasped. “You’re alive!”

  And as if he had understood, the wolf whimpered. He nudged Sophie’s foot with his nose and then, in a languorous motion, he pressed his head into her thigh, closing his eyes. A sigh shuddered through his body.

  The rest of the pack now trotted toward her, arranging themselves around her in the snow. She gasped as one leaped up and knocked her against the door in his enthusiasm. A wolf cub climbed onto her lap and licked her face. He was warm, even though the pads of his feet were covered in ice. She buried her hands in his fur.

  The sound of metal grating against metal. The key in a lock. Bolts being dragged back. The old wolf put his head up and snarled. Sophie felt a rush of gratitude toward the creature; he would protect her, she realized, or die in the attempt.

  “Sophie?”

  “Dmitri!”

  “Stand still. Don’t show fear. You know they will not hurt you. I have meat to feed them so they will not hurt me, either.” She heard him kick the door in frustration, then he burst through. The bucket in his hand slopped blood and entrails onto the snow. He dropped it and the wolves ran to it, yelping in delight.

  He threw his arms around her. “I wanted you to be Volkonsky!” he cried. “I knew it the moment I saw you. But I could not let myself believe it!”

  “That’s what you said to me! Voy Volkonsky! When I first arrived. If only I’d understood. Except it would have seemed incredible. Impossible.” She was laughing, but crying, too.

  They stepped back from each other, suddenly embarrassed. Some of the wolves came back to her, leaning into her and unbalancing her. It was like wearing a long, full skirt made out of a tangle of white fur.

  Dmitri steadied her. “The wolves knew. They always knew,” he said, laughing.

  “Dmitri … we must get Delphine and Marianne! They’ve been locked up!”

  He nodded, but pulled her through the door. “But they safe behind bars! And Masha coming! She help them!” He held her arm tightly. “That woman leaving! We must hurry! We must rescue Volkonsky diamonds!”

  Sophie, Dmitri, and the wolves ran through the blighted, candlelit corridors of the Winter Palace. Sophie could hear the rhythmic panting of the animals, the way their claws scratched on the floor. It made her heart beat faster. It felt as if they were running with this pack, had become wolves themselves. Dmitri held her hand to run up stairs or across echoing rooms, through parts of the palace she had never seen, and as the wolves seethed around them, she felt a wave of gratitude toward this boy.

  At the front door, the wolves clustered around Sophie and Dmitri, eager to be outside after months of captivity in the courtyard. It was as if the emptiness of the forest had filled their bodies and made them crazed to be free.

  Sophie turned the enormous handle and pulled the door open to let in a sliver of twilight. The wolves howled excitedly.

  “Careful!” Dmitri cried. “They will scare Viflyanka!”

  She could see the princess and the general already in the vozok, which was laden with paintings, rugs, and silver. They were surely about to leave any second. Ivan ran toward them from the stable yard, yelling furiously. He pulled the silver samovar off the heap of stolen treasures and hurled it into the snow. The general reached for his pistol as Ivan tugged at the handle of a suitcase. It sprang open and clocks, plates, cutlery spewed out onto the snow. Anna Feodorovna, furious, stood in the vozok and screamed abuse.

  But she stopped as she saw Sophie in the doorway. She looked shocked, then frightened, as she shook the general’s arm and pointed.

  “Go!” roared the general. “We have the diamonds!”

  Dmitri ran to calm Viflyanka, who, terrified of the wolves in the doorway, tried to rear up. The weight of the vozok would not allow it. Sophie could see the animal would break his back if he wasn’t freed. But the wolves did not immediately leap out into the snow. They seemed to be waiting for a signal from her.

  “Poshawwwl!” Anna Feodorovna screamed as she grabbed the reins and the whip. Crack! The whip snapped across Viflyanka’s sweating neck, catching Dmitri’s face. The boy staggered back, clutching his cheek, and in that instant, Viflyanka leaped forward. The general took aim and fired at the doorway, but the erratic lurch of the vozok meant that his aim was off. Sophie heard the bullet whiz close to her head.

  “Don’t you dare!” Ivan yelled as he leaped up at the man. He tried to swipe the pistol from the general’s hand and they struggled awkwardly as the vozok moved forward. The general roared again. The pistol flew over Ivan’s head into the snow, and Ivan was kicked and shoved until he fell back off the vozok.

  “She will kill herself,” he cried as he lay in the snow behind the now fast-moving sleigh. “There is too much in the vozok — it is too heavy for the ice road.”

  Sophie had been holding on to the thick fur of the old wolf in the doorway, so the pack had stayed with her. But as she ran forward to help Ivan, the wolves took this as their cue and they ran forward, too. It was as if they wanted the general and the princess gone once and for all as they gave chase to the vozok, harassing Viflyanka, snapping at his heels. The bells on his harness jangled insanely, and the vozok swung erratically behind the terrified horse. They saw Anna Feodorovna — no longer the princess, Sophie thought — standing up now, yanking ineffectively on the too-long reins, cracking her whip at the wolves.

  “We have to stop her!” Sophie looked at Ivan. He was motionless, watching the vozok as it lurched toward the sunken ice road. “I
van! How do we stop her?”

  Dmitri was already running after them, calling the name of his horse in despair. Sophie could hear the tears that rent his voice: The animal was spooked now, and would gallop until he dropped dead or was shot.

  But Anna Feodorovna didn’t seem to think the furious pace was fast enough, and cracked the whip once more, the sound like a rifle shot. The wolves veered away from the vozok. Sophie heard her laugh.

  Viflyanka strained for even more speed and flew down the bank. Just before the vozok disappeared, it careered and tipped to one side.

  There was a huge crash. Silver cutlery flew up into the twilight in an arc; a small urn bounced across the ice, chased by a silver tray.

  Ivan started to run. Sophie ran, too, though she soon fell behind and her chest burned as the ice-cold air went into her lungs.

  They reached the bank of the ice road just behind Dmitri. The vozok lay on its side, Viflyanka struggling in the harness. The princess had fallen from her seat and onto the ice. She looked dazed, a cut on the side of her head already oozing blood. The general was clambering over the side of the vozok, the diamonds looped around his neck. The wolves were on the bank, pacing and snarling, but staying away from the ice.

  Ivan stared in horror at the frozen road. “It’s cracking! The wolves won’t go on the ice — they know.”

  Dmitri, sliding down the bank to reach the horse, tried to slow himself by digging his heels into the snow.

  “Get off!” Ivan yelled at him as large black lines appeared on the ice with frightening speed.

  Dmitri threw himself back and lay full-length in the snow. “Viflyanka!” he wailed, and beat the snow with his fist. Everything was happening so fast.

  Then a huge boom that sounded like a cannon cut through the sky, violent as the breaks cleaving through the ice.

  The general ran swiftly across the ice away from the wolves, causing more black lines to appear. He disappeared into the trees, not once looking back.

  Over the creaking noise of the moving ice, they heard Anna Feodorovna call feebly, “Grigor …” She managed to stand up and staggered a step or two, but slipped. She saw the wolves, howling and snarling on the bank, and cried out in terror. She slid away from them, toward the center of the ice.

  Dmitri now slipped down onto the ice road. It was no longer solid.

  Boom!

  “Dmitri!” Ivan looked stricken, torn between trying to help the boy and the woman. “Come back! Your weight will make it worse.”

  But Dmitri was sliding toward the thrashing horse now, still trapped by the vozok on the fast-cracking ice.

  “Sophie!” Dmitri shouted. “Help me!”

  Sophie was too quick for Ivan, although she felt his arm brush her shoulder as he lunged to pull her back. She skittered down onto the ice and, trying hard to keep her balance, trod gingerly toward the horse, her arms in front of her. She could feel the water tilting the ice, and that dreadful grinding noise filled her head.

  “Hold Viflyanka’s head!” Dmitri shouted. “We must get him out of harness.”

  The way the ice would suddenly shift was like sitting on a train when it jolts abruptly to a halt. Sophie could see they had so little time. The black water licked at the white ice, sucking the vozok down. Viflyanka, snorting, eyes white, foaming with sweat, tried to pull himself forward.

  “He will drown …” Dmitri worked with furious concentration at the leather buckles.

  Sophie tried to catch the horse’s bridle, but he swung his head around and tried to bite her.

  “Dmitri … I can’t get his head …” she called desperately.

  Dmitri said nothing; he was still working on the buckles and straps. With one last gesture, he freed the props, the vozok sliding back into the black water with a sickening gurgle. Viflyanka, snorting and with a terrified whinny, pulled himself free. Sophie had to put her hand up to catch the panicked horse’s bridle; if he stepped back he, too, would be in the water and their attempt to save him would be in vain.

  She swiped at the reins and then, somehow, caught the bridle. She saw Dmitri, on the other side now, holding the horse’s head as well. He was stroking him and talking to him and gently getting the animal to walk toward the bank and away from the black hole in the ice.

  “Go slowly …” Dmitri could have been talking to Viflyanka or to her. They half slid, half skated back to the bank.

  “Where’s Ivan?”

  Sophie looked around her for the first time since racing after the vozok. Through Viflyanka’s hot steaming breath, she saw something she wished she hadn’t.

  Ivan had stepped onto the ice and, fixing his gaze on Anna Feodorovna, was walking calmly and slowly toward her, talking to her in Russian. It sounded as if he were telling her a story, and she did seem to be listening, even though her head was half turned away, to the path through the woods where the general had gone.

  “Can he save her?” Sophie asked Dmitri.

  Ivan reached out his hand, using the same calming movements Sophie had noticed Dmitri using with Viflyanka. She was saved! Sophie held her breath as Ivan’s fingers wrapped themselves around the woman’s white hands.

  “He’s got her, Dmitri!” she gasped.

  But then two things happened. Just as Ivan was pulling Anna Feodorovna toward him, there was the shrill whistle of a train and the shussssh of brakes. The second thing to happen was that Anna Feodorovna cried out, “Grigor!” and leaped backward as if Ivan’s hand had burned her, toward the bank. But she hadn’t leaped far enough. Sophie heard the dull sound of her breath thudding out of her chest as she fell heavily on the ice.

  And then, suddenly, there was only Ivan. Anna Feodorovna, who had been lying on the ice, just right there, was there no longer.

  “Where? Where is she?” Sophie knew the answer, but she wanted Dmitri to tell her it wasn’t how it seemed.

  And then she saw a white shadow slip fast along under the ice, sucked by some deep, dark, cold current. Sophie saw the woman’s face. It looked surprised, and her fingers scratched desperately at the frozen water above her. There were black weeds all around her.

  “We have to get her out!” Sophie yelled again. She felt two arms whip around her, holding her tight.

  “Ice not safe,” Dmitri said. And she knew he would not let her go.

  She could only watch as Ivan threw himself onto the ice where the princess’s surprised face had last been seen. He hammered at it with his fists until they bled. He shouted her name. Black and red water splashed up into the air when the ice broke.

  He plunged his arm up to his shoulder into the freezing water.

  But it was too late. The princess was gone.

  “Is that it?” Sophie whispered. “Is it really over? Just like that, in a second?”

  She tried to break free from Dmitri’s arms. “There must be something we can do … We have to get Anna Feodorovna out. If we don’t get to her … Why isn’t Ivan doing anything? Why is he just lying there?”

  She twisted out of Dmitri’s grip and slid down the bank.

  “Get back!” Ivan roared, his face wet with tears. “You stay off the ice!”

  “But we have to help her …” Sophie knew it was too late, but she felt that if she kept talking, it might not be true. “We can’t just leave her to drown … under the ice … Ivan …”

  She sat down in the snow and put her head on her knees. She heard the ice creak. A hand hooked itself under her arm and lifted her up.

  “I told her it was all over.” Ivan put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so that she had to look at him. “She was not a princess,” he said. “You are the princess.”

  “But I can’t be a Volkonsky …”

  It was so painful, this dislocation of her world. Her throat ached. It was as if she were being told that she was a boy, or that her parents hadn’t really died but had just been playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek on her for all these years. It was as if she, herself, had fallen through the ice. But no, she mus
tn’t think like that. She must find something solid to stand on.

  “I am being foolish!” Ivan helped her up, put his arm around her, and started to walk her back toward the palace. “I need to get you inside. And quickly.”

  Sophie’s legs were unbearably stiff and she leaned into Ivan’s reassuring solidness as they skirted the banks of the ice road. She glanced behind her toward the forest. The wolves stood at the tree line for a moment — and then, with a yelp of joy, they streamed off into the forest.

  Dmitri led Viflyanka slowly behind them. At the portico, he asked Ivan something in Russian. Ivan nodded, then leaned down and said, “Dmitri will take Viflyanka to the palace stables. The horse needs attention.”

  “Of course,” Sophie whispered. “Will Viflyanka be all right, Dmitri?”

  “Yes.” Dmitri nodded. “Thank you. Without your help, he would be like …” He must have seen the pain on Sophie’s face, because he stopped.

  Masha, waiting on the steps, ran toward them. Her eyes were wide. “I hear ice road crack. Like cannon! But you safe!”

  “Oh, Masha …” Sophie bit her lip. “Something awful has happened. The princess …”

  “Not princess,” Masha whispered.

  Ivan squeezed her shoulder. “Masha, I should have listened to you. I should have understood what you were saying to me.”

  Masha shrugged.

  “Will you forgive me?” Ivan said.

  Masha curtseyed. “I will forgive … and help you, too.” She added, “Now we both serve Volkonskys!” She looked up at him and smiled, a little shy.

  “Where are the others?” Ivan asked.

  “I take them to warm room,” Masha said. “I give them tea?”

  Ivan smiled too, although he still looked sad. “They are in need of warmth and friendship … You will give them that, I know.”

  Masha smiled proudly. “And the princess?” she said shyly. “I will make tea for princess?”