Under the Apple Tree

The first light of the sun woke Fian.

He stretched out comfortably in his bed, savoring for a moment the warm light streaming in through the window. Yes, the last few weeks had been strange, in a way. Or had it been months? He couldn’t quite recall… In the end, he decided it must have been an eternity—or at least it felt like she had *always* been there, that white beauty who had entered his life and turned everything upside down. And now, this new wolf had appeared—one who could evidently give her orders. He pondered this for a while in the sunlight, concluding that his life had never been more interesting than it was now. Well, maybe that was the answer to the great question posed by that fresco:

What Fian saw, was simply an exciting life, and he was now curious to see what would happen next. He would have bet anything that if he told Vela – though it suddenly occurred to him he’d never asked how he should address her now that he knew her full name… And then there was the whole “Vel-Nonsens” thing, though he suspected there would be no answer to that, only one of her… When suddenly, a terrible crash rang out from the garden, sounding as if claws had smashed violently against wood. He decided to get up and investigate.

For my German travelers:  follow this path

As he passed the kitchen, he saw two cups of steaming tea on the table, along with fresh mushrooms seasoned with forest herbs and fresh badger-bread with butter. Fian pricked up his ears in curiosity and whispered, “What the…?” just as the terrible crashing sound echoed through the garden once more. So he walked toward the patio door and looked out curiously. Outside, Vela was busy training: she was smashing logs with her bare claws while executing combat moves across the garden with ghostly speed.

When she noticed Fian, she stopped and looked at him, a blue sparkle in her eyes. She took a brief, deep breath and shattered an especially large log with a hard blow. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said calmly, and the sparkle in her eyes faded.

Fian looked around. “Where did all the…” “Oh, I couldn’t really sleep, so I gathered some logs in the forest for combat training,” she replied, looking at him. “I hope that was alright?” Fian hesitated. “Um… did you just ask me if…?” She stretched briefly once more, then lay down in the fresh moss beneath the apple tree. “I like this spot under the apple tree. I wonder if it bears many apples.” Fian looked at her, puzzled. “It usually does, but the harvest was a bit meager this year,” he answered.

She looked up at the apple tree and then, after a long silence, said, “I never had an apple tree; none grow in the mountains.” Fian shyly flattened his ears against his head. “May I ask a question? Well, let’s say two questions…” She sat up and looked at him. “Are they good questions?” she asked, her ears pricked up attentively.

Fian thought for a moment. “I think they’re important,” he said after a short pause. “Well…” the Huntress of the North replied, “then go get us some tea, and come sit with me.” Fian turned and walked into the kitchen. Then he hesitated briefly, thinking about making a detour to the storeroom.

He changed his mind again, turned back, and said he would just check the cellar to see if there were any apples left down there. He disappeared into the cellar and returned with an apple, which he tossed to her from the patio door. She glided across the floor like water to catch it. “We’ll have to practice your throwing sometime,” she remarked on his toss. Fian’s ears twitched briefly in embarrassment, and then he picked up the teacups from the kitchen table.

So they sat side by side.

She played with the apple while he sipped his tea self-consciously, watching her. Finally, she asked, “Well? What are the two questions you have?” Fian set down his tea and looked at her sheepishly. “Well, I wanted to ask… um, I… oh, never mind… *OW!*” She pulled her paw away from his shoulder. “I told you to stop that! You can’t take back words,” she snapped, glaring at him, “so just ask your question.” He rubbed his shoulder and thought for a moment. Then he took a breath and—”*OW!* What was that for?” She pulled her paw back from his shoulder again. “You wanted to ask a different question, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice icy cold. He looked at her, then past her. “…No?” As she raised her paw again, he quickly added, “…In a way,” and actually ducked just in time before her paw could strike him again. She studied him closely. “Are we learning something new?” she asked, a faint smile flitting across her face.

Then she turned serious again. “And now, out with the question.” Fian looked down, considering which of the two questions to ask first. He decided on, “So, what should I actually call you now? I mean, there are plenty of poetic options, but…” “Vela,” she replied curtly. “What you heard. That’s enough. And the second question?” “Vela—that’s a beautiful name; where does it come from?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he sat stiffly in the moss afterward. “I did it again, I…” Vela gently placed her paw on his leg and answered softly, “Yes, you did, and we’ll work on that. I promise.”

Then she tossed the apple into the air, split it in two with a deft swipe of her claw, and handed half to Fian. “And to answer your question: it’s a constellation. When I was born, my parents looked up and named me after the first stars they could see. Vela.” She took a bite of her apple half and changed the subject: “Your apple tree bears good fruit.”

Fian glanced cautiously over at her and said quietly, “Hello, Vela. I’m Fian. It’s nice to meet you.” Vela’s ears twitched briefly, and then she took his paw quite formally: “Hello, Fian.” She looked at him expectantly. When Fian offered no further reply – his ears tilted shyly to the side – she took a deep sip of tea and lay back against the moss, relaxed. “Well, actually, I wanted to know what the deal was with the bread, the mushrooms, and the forest herbs on the table, and the two cups of warm tea, and all that,” Fian blurted out, feeling he had to say it.

Vela propped herself up on her elbows and sat up slightly. “So, what do you think that is? Breakfast, maybe?” Fian looked into his teacup. “Yes, but why would the Huntress of the North be making breakfast in my kitchen…” he said with devotion in his voice.

Vela lay back against the moss and stretched: “Yes, that’s the interesting question that hasn’t been asked, isn’t it? But anyone who asks for two questions yet has four shouldn’t be surprised when half of them always remain unanswered.”

Fian sighed and stood up. “I’ll go get breakfast for us, then.”