The trip to the court of Queen Moragana was not a difficult path to journey. We didn’t see any other strange creatures or run into more dragons or other dangerous animals. Although the woods were lovely, the birds cheerful and noisy, and the weather perfect for riding, it was a long journey for someone not used to riding a horse (or pooka), plus, the dragon, even though only a baby, seemed to grow weightier as our travel continued and my arms began to ache.
We entered through a gate with a solid rock wall that surrounded the area. Guards stood at attention, showing us that the queen had definitely not brought all her forces. Some of the soldiers had obviously remained to protect her estate.
The coach passed through the stone barrier first, and we followed directly behind, the two werewolves hugging Timothy’s heels, Daniel, as a hawk or eagle, whatever he was, latched on to the pooka’s mane in front of me. Behind us, the troops of soldiers continued their jogging, however, lowering their long swords in respect for the guards as they passed inside.
A moment later, the huge gate slammed shut, and the on-duty guards shuffled back in the front and behind the heavy gate. Once we were through that rather scary part, scary because the eyes of the guards had glared at us, their weapons had pointed in our direction, and they’d looked as if attack was only a sneeze or a nervous cough away.
The gardens inside the rock wall were magnificent. Flowers of every color, trees of both pine and deciduous with cascading bowers of green, plus bushes, shrubs, and low-lying creeping vines covered everything that wasn’t in the graveled path we were treading.
As we approached the castle, the walls of which were solidly covered with red blooming climbing roses, it was obvious that this was a palace which had hard-working caretakers, unlike Queen Beatrice’s dead and dying gardens.
Queen Moragana’ s couch stopped a few feet from the building, and the passengers climbed out. Queen Beatrice’s knees almost gave way as she stepped down. Thankfully, a guard held her up, supporting her until she gained her balance. It was easy to forget that she wasn’t really the age her unwrinkled face showed.
Queen Moragana, quite differently, climbed down with her usual grace, smiled back at us, then holding her head high, she marched forward without a bit of evidence of any stiffness from the long ride in close quarters.
It is time to dismount, my darling, Timothy said.
Daniel hopped down, then instantly transformed back into his naked chested, bead-decorated self. His leather pants clung to a body that was perfectly toned. I looked away, until he stepped closer and raised his hands to take the baby dragon from me.
I wished I were as magical as Queen Moragana as I slid off Timothy’s back, but my limbs were feeling chafed, even though Terry had let me wear his pants underneath my dress, and the ache of my muscles forbade the free movement of my lower limbs. I stretched a bit, uncrinking my spine as I stepped further away from my beloved pooka.
Timothy, like Daniel, was a speedy shifter. Not so the two werewolves, who moaned and groaned as their bones altered alignment, their muscles shifted, and they writhed with the pain.