A Tale of Fur and Flesh (4 page)

His gaze penetrated her so harshly she felt
violated.  The king was not laughing.  His expression was gravely serious.

“Surely you jest,” she went on.  Lally’s skin became
cold. An icy sweat broke across her brow. Her pleading gaze shot to councillor
Offal, but her father’s man was looking squarely at his feet.  The muscles in
Lally’s calves twitched to carry her from the council room, from the castle,
from the kingdom.

More emphatically, she repeated, “Surely you jest,
father.  Is your mind diseased?  Know you not who I am?  I am your daughter!  I
am Lally!  Do you not remember telling me tales when I was small, and singing
to me as I slept?  I am still that same golden-haired child.”

The old man’s gaze was fixed on her tangled locks,
the hair so like her mother’s.  When he reached out to touch it, Lally jerked
her head away.  His eyes shone with a kindly lunacy.  His scent was heavy as
death and decay.  “I made a promise to your mother.  Never would I take a bride
less beautiful than she.  There is only you, Lally.  My Lally with locks of
gold, golden hair like her mother’s.  We will be wed in the morning, my
daughter.”

“No!” she cried, rising to her feet.  Her chair
tumbled behind her.  What else could she say?  How to reason with such lunacy? 
This was not the father she knew.  This person was mad.  Snake had been right. 
There was danger in the castle.  There was danger at home.

The demented king slid his skeletal fingers through
her golden hair.  Grabbing hold of it, he pulled her down.  When her knees met
the cold, hard ground, he took her hair in a fist and pulled it.  Lally
released a tortured scream.  “Why do you hurt me, father?  I love you and you
do me harm…”

“We shall be married in the morning,” he repeated,
his voice calm and firm.

In pain and confusion, she could do nought but weep. 
For how could she bring herself to strike out against her own father? 
Particularly after waiting ten anxious years to see him again.

“Please, your highness.”  Offal’s voice was pleading
and small as he interjected from across the room.  “Release your daughter.  Can
you not see the pain you cause her?”

Father’s grasp loosened, but he did not let go.  With
her eyes to the ground, Lally whimpered like a child.  She could not bring her
mind to function through the haze of disillusion.

“Let us discuss this business of marriage,” Offal continued. 
“It is forbidden for a father to wed his daughter.  No good can come from such
a crime, and the kingdom will bear the brunt of your personal ruin.”

“The king will not be dissuaded,” father interrupted,
releasing Lally from his grasp.  “The wedding will take place on the morrow,
Offal.  Take Lally to her mother’s chambers and guard her through the night. 
She shall marry me in the morning, or you shall hang, councillor.”

Lally’s attempt to scramble to her feet failed.  Her
muscles were limp with bewilderment.  Offal’s fresh cologne salved her pulsing
temples as he lifted her by the underarms and carried her from the room.  With
black boots dragging along the corridor, she seemed to float above her body. 
Was she living or dead?  Married or maid?  This evening had surely been a
dream.  She would wake to find the world as it had been.

Chapter Four

Awakening with the sun in the bed of her mother’s
chamber, Lally realized with great horror the preceding evening had not been
dreamed.  Mother’s copper gown was twisted tight as a siren’s tail around her
restless legs.  Councillor Offal dozed in a chair blocking the door.  Her
stomach turned as she recalled father’s intentions.  How could a once-good man
imagine such an unspeakable coupling?  Was he mad?  Doubtless.  There was
nothing left but to flee.

The heavy silks of her mother’s gown rustled like
autumn leaves, stirring Offal from rest.  Shaking his dreams from his head, the
king’s councillor bolted upright.  He pushed his solid chair against the only
door to freedom.  Lally had little choice.

“I shall give you anything you like if only you allow
my escape,” she offered, unfastening the ties that bound her into the copper
dress.  Mother’s gown fell at her feet, revealing the bustier of black
snakeskin, tattered skirts and tall black boots underneath.  “Pray, let me flee
this accursed castle.  It will be my death to stay here, for I should rather
kill myself than give my hand to the man who gave me life.”

“You waste your breath arguing with me, your highness,”
Offal replied slowly and deliberately.  Lally’s stomach clenched as the lean
councillor approached her, his gait meandering.  “I agree with you.  This
marriage would be a travesty.  I will gladly be your saviour, but I ask nothing
in return, dear child.  I have known you from infancy.  It is my duty to serve
and protect you.  To that end, I bring you this…”

In his hand rested a walnut.

“It is yours,” he went on.  “I swept it from the
council table when you became incapacitated.”

Relief wafted across Lally’s chest like a cool
breeze.  The nut was enchanted.  It would open up when the time came she needed
help.  The time was nigh.  Danger slept in the adjacent chamber.  Mother’s care
would save her from a fate worse than death.

“Oh, thank you a thousand times over, councillor
Offal!” she exclaimed, kissing her liberator’s gaunt cheek and snatching the
walnut from his hand.  “Now, open up, little nut!”

The walnut rested, unmoving, against Lally’s palm.

“Perhaps you must crack it,” Offal suggested.

Taking the knife from her waistband, Lally placed the
walnut on the ground and stabbed at it many times over.  With each stab, it
rolled along the floor.

“The knife is not working,” Offal pronounced with
urgency.

“Yes, I can see that!” Lally replied with frustration
in her voice.  “
Gott im Himmel
, is that father’s footstep approaching?”

It was.

“Place the nut under the foot of the bed,” Offal
commanded.  “The weight of the solid wood will crack it.”

But even this attempt was unsuccessful.  Climbing
upon the bed, Lally jumped with all her strength.  The walnut survived.  Again
and again she threw her weight upon the bedstead, but to no avail.  There was a
rap at the door.  Father had come to take her to the altar, the feast, the
marriage bed…

“I come for my now daughter, my soon wife,” her
demented father called out.

Lally collapsed into the feather mattress.  The
disappointment and dread in her heart culminated in a violent scream.  Tears
burned her eyes, her throat.  What could she do?

“You must go now, out the window!” Offal whispered,
bolting the door.

“Why flee?” Lally asked, resigning herself to her
sickening fate.  “Father will only have his huntsmen track me down and return
me to his marriage bed.  And you will be killed for your part in this
deception.  I shall go quietly to the sacrificial altar…”

“You shall go to the woods.  You shall flee this
kingdom, princess!  I would die gladly, that you should be safe,” Offal
commanded, retrieving the walnut.  His gaze was then caught by three golden
possessions of the late queen’s, resting on the dressing table.  In Lally’s
trembling hand, he placed a golden needle, golden thread and a golden ring.

“I thank you from the depths of my soul, councillor. 
You are the bravest of men,” Lally esteemed, kissing the councillor’s thin
lips.

“Safe journey,” he wished the princess as she fled.

* * * *

The whole day and night, Lally travelled through
forest and stream.  She was so desperate to flee the kingdom and the mad ruler
she once loved, she took neither food nor respite.  From that day forth, she
decided, she would adopt the name of Allerleirauh.  She would not disclose her
relation to her lunatic father and betraying mother.  Her name would be that
bestowed upon her by the departed Snake.  Now she must construct her protective
mantle of many furs.  But how would she know which creatures were to help her?

When she had run a safe distance from the castle,
Lally slaked her thirst in the brook.  She set about collecting berries and
herbs to satiate her hunger and maintain her good health.  As she bent to pluck
a particularly ripe raspberry, a small blur flashed before her feet. 
What
was that?
  There it was again.

“Snake’s skin? 
Snake’s skin!” a jumpy little voice called out.  “You’re
Aller-Aller-Allerleirauh!”  A tawny hare hopped tentatively from behind a birch
tree.

“Yes, I am Allerleirauh,” she replied.  It was the
first time she had said her new name aloud.  Al-ler-lie-row.  Allerleirauh.  A
new woman.

“Oh goody.  Oh goody,” he cheered.  “That’s great!  I
know what to do now.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as the scatter-brained
creature transformed into an adorable young man with a trail of fuzzy bunny fur
encircling his navel.  His tawny hair was floppy; his upwardly sloping sex
anything but.

“I take it you will be helping me with my mantle?”
Lally chuckled, leaning upright against the birch tree.  She parted her legs a
touch.  It was the first time she had laughed since leaving the castle. 
Reaching toward Hare, she grasped his curved cock.  It was curiosity more than
lust.  She’d never seen a man’s rod so furry.

“Yes, oh yes, oh yes,” exclaimed the young man.  She
stroked him slowly as he pawed at her tattered skirts.  It felt lovely and soft
against her palm.

In no time, the rabbit boy lifted her dress and
swiftly penetrated her cavern…or so he seemed to think.  The darling creature
couldn’t have been more inattentive.  It appeared he didn’t realize he was
simply stroking his fuzzy rod against her mound.  The sensation was wonderful
nonetheless.  Lally stretched back against the birch as he thrust against her
sensitive lower lips.  She sighed with pleasure, pressing her body up against
his until she could feel her wetness dripping down her thighs.  It was only
fair the boy should get to feel her inside as well as out.  Taking him in hand,
she showed his strange cock into her cunt.  The hare grasped at her skirts. 
Lally could count on her fingers and toes the number of thrusts he issued.  It
was over almost before it had begun, but at least she secured one of the hides
she was searching for.  The pelt from his furry back came right off in her
hands.  As she held the soft rabbit fur, the boy became fixated on a point over
her shoulder.  “Eeep!  Must depart,” he cried.  Naked, he scurried out of
sight.

“Wait!” Lally hollered after him.  “Why do you run,
Hare?”

A twig cracked behind her.  There was movement.  It
sent chills through her body. Suddenly, the evening seemed much darker.  “Allow
me to clarify, Allerleirauh.”  The creature behind her spoke in the deep, raspy
brogue of the Western kingdom. Lally spun on her heels, nearly falling over in
her snakeskin boots.  He was the wolf.  One eye blue, one eye brown.  His
silver mane and sharp incisors shone brightly in the blue light of dusk.  With
his violent gaze fixed on her, Lally was unsure what to do.  His pelt would
make a welcome contribution to her mantle, but would he have her for dinner
first?

“That hare were going to be me meal, before ye came
along,” the silver creature said, taking heavy strides toward her.

“You would not think of eating me instead,” Lally
responded with a nervous chuckle.  Awakening her courage, she rooted her heels
into the forest floor.  She was going nowhere without his pelt.  In any case,
Snake said the forest creatures wished to protect her.

“Nay, lass.  I wouldn’a eat a fish with other
mongers’ hooks in her.”

Lally’s blood percolated, warming her neck and her
cheeks.  She hadn’t anticipated such insolence.  He was supposed to help her,
and instead he called her a whore!  “How dare you address me thus, wretched
dog?  I am a princess!”

Wolf issued a throaty cackle.  As Hare and Snake had
done before him, the wolf stretched until he was more man than animal.  All
that remained of his prior form were his silver mane and tail, the pale fur
along his belly, the blue and brown eyes, and his violent demeanour.  The
muscles of his human form were slight and lean, but his height rendered him
imposing in the extreme.  His countenance retained a leathered attractiveness,
which a few more years of exposure to the elements were certain to
disintegrate.

“Ye’re nothing but a wee doxy,” Wolf maligned,
circling around her.

Lally opened her mouth to argue, but it was true,
wasn’t it?  She no longer held any power.  By the warmth emanating from the
wolf’s body, she knew where he was with respect to her.  At her back, her
shoulder, her side.  She did not turn her head to look at him.  In fact, she
closed her eyes and took in the musty scent of dark earth.  When she opened her
eyes, he had returned to his starting place in front of her.   If she desired
to caress his fur, Lally would have to walk a good ten paces toward him.

“And now ye tread through excrement and all manner of
things with my good friend Snake for boots,” Wolf continued.  “How can ye live
with yerself after the crime ye’ve committed?”

“That was an accident,” Lally replied.  She had to
defend herself, even if she agreed with Wolf.  “I meant no harm against Snake. 
His death is a matter of great regret.”