The Ribbon and the Wolf

Part One. No Cat

On Wednesday morning, Willow was gone.

Last time, we left Alex and Felix, who had swapped places with a girl and a wolf, in a house at the bottom of a hill, watching a thin line of silver creep along the floor, with a cat sitting in front of it. By the time they woke up, the silver was gone. The cat was gone too. Her place on the grey blanket was still warm, and there was a small round dent in it, and a single gold-brown hair.

We were at school all of this time, and we had an ordinary Wednesday, apart from the moon. So, again, this is how Alex and Felix told us. We have the bit with the cat from Maya, who wrote it on a card.

"She's gone," said Alex. He looked under the bed, and behind the door, and in the fireplace. He looked in a bowl on a shelf, which was only a bowl. His voice had a wobble in it. "She's gone, Felix."

"She went through the edge," said Felix. He was sitting up in bed with the blanket round his shoulders, looking at the place on the floor where the silver line had been. He was thinking it through, as he does, one bit at a time. "She does that. She goes out and comes back. She's got her own cat flap at the school, remember? Mister Janus made it."

"What if she doesn't come back?"

"She always comes back," said Felix. "She just wants us to know that she could leave."

"She's gone out before," said Alex. "She goes out for ages, and then she comes in with a mouse."

"And eats it right in front of everybody," said Felix.

That made them both feel a bit better, in the way that it does when you remember something awful that turned out fine.

It was exactly the sort of thing that is true about cats. But it was the first time Alex had not been able to hold her in his head, and he did not say anything for a while.

Part Two. Breakfast Arrives

Breakfast arrived at lunchtime.

Ganglöt had set off at seven. They heard the slipper, shuff, in the corridor. They heard the other slipper, shuff. They went to wash their faces in the stream, which was cold and tasted of stones. They came back. They made a bed. They tidied the shelf. They made another bed. They did a whole page of I Spy, and a drawing of a goldfish.

It was nearly noon before a tray appeared round the door, and the tray was carrying a boiled egg, a lump of dark bread, some berries, and a pot of honey so small that it looked like a thimble.

"I do apologise," said Ganglöt. "I was having a very busy morning. I went the long way."

"We waited," said Alex, who was starving. "I think I'm a bit see-through."

"What's the short way?" said Felix.

"There is not one," said Ganglöt, with a very straight back. "I've looked."

Tyr was waiting in the hall, with his coat on. He had not eaten anything. He had been standing at the window, looking at the hill, with the pale ribbon held in his good hand, wound over and over his fingers.

"I said I would tell you," he said.

"We know," said Alex.

"It is not an easy story," said Tyr. "But I think I had better tell you where everyone can hear it. They are having the Thing this afternoon. They are going to decide."

"Decide what?" said Felix.

Tyr looked at the ribbon. "What to do with a puppy."

Part Three. The Long Way to the Thing

Tyr took them the long way round.

He did not say why. The path went past a hill by itself, the next one along, with a hollow in the side of it like an open mouth. Tyr stopped at the edge of the grass, as if there were a line there that only he could see, and he did not go any closer.

"That was Fenris's," he said.

It was empty. Inside the hollow there was a heap of straw, squashed flat in the shape of a very large dog. There was a bowl as wide as a paddling pool, with FENRIS scratched round the rim in letters that had been done with a claw. And in the grass in front of it lay a long, thick, silver chain, with one link snapped clean in two.

Felix crouched and picked up the broken end. The link was as big as his head. "Did he do that all at once?" he said.

"He was frightened," said Tyr. "That is not the same as angry. People mix them up."

Alex had noticed something else. Beside the bowl, in the grass, there was a second dent, a small one, just the size of one person sitting with her knees up. A little grey book lay beside it, with a leaf for a bookmark.

"Somebody sits here," said Alex.

"Hel," said Tyr. "Every evening, when her work is done. She reads to him. She thinks nobody knows." He looked at the dent, and not at them. "He lies with his head on her feet. I have watched from the wall. I have never come closer than this."

"Why not?" said Felix.

Tyr looked at his wooden hand. "The last time I came close," he said, "I had something in it that was not true."

Then he walked on, and they went with him, to where the gods were gathering.

It turned out that a Thing is a meeting.

The gods have always had them. They sit in a ring on the hillside, on stones and stumps and the roots of an enormous tree, and they talk until they have decided something. They have a rule: you may only speak when you are holding the Speaking Ladle. It is a large wooden spoon with a bent handle, and it is old. Nobody remembers why it is a ladle. It might have been a joke.

"Welcome," said Odin, when Tyr led the twins into the ring. He was sitting on the biggest stone, with Thought and Memory on his shoulders, looking more tired than yesterday. "Sit. The small ones may sit anywhere. Small ones are, by tradition, not allowed to vote."

"We don't want to vote," said Felix.

"We'd like to listen," said Alex.

"Excellent. Listening is much underrated," said Odin. "Bragi, put down the ladle."

"I haven't finished the verse," said Bragi.

"You have been on this verse since Tuesday," said Odin. "Put it down."

The ladle went round the ring. A lady with a bow spoke first. She was tall and pale, with a cloak of white fur, and her eyes were as sharp as a hawk's. Her name was Skadi, and she held the ladle as though it might be a weapon.

"I am sorry to say it," she said. "But we must settle this. By Friday."

Part Four. The Bite in the Moon

"Look up," said Skadi.

They all looked up. It was a bright, clear afternoon, and the moons were both in the sky: the big low one that was Mama Quilla, round and silver and fretful, and the little cold one behind her.

The little cold one had a bite out of it.

It was a round bite, about the size of a football pitch, taken out of the lower edge. It was tidy. You could see the tiny tooth-marks all round it.

"He did that on Sunday," said Skadi. "He jumped for it. He is not even full size. He was trying to catch it, the way a dog goes for a ball." She turned the ladle in her hands. "On Friday the moon is full. It will be at its biggest, and shiniest, and closest. And now there is a second one, sitting practically on top of the hill. If he jumps at either of them then..."

"Mama Quilla?" whispered Alex, up at the sky. The big moon looked down, and looked a little pale.

"I'd rather he didn't," she whispered. "But he is only a puppy. I don't mind a little nibble."

"He has swallowed a goat," said Skadi, "and half a barn, and a very good chair. He eats everything in sight, and he is growing a handspan every day. If he swallows a moon, there is no night. There is no way to keep time. Everything that is held in order by the moons will go out of order."

"It is a real fear," said Frigg, gently, to the ring. "Nobody is being unkind."

Alex looked at Felix. Felix had gone quiet. He was frowning, the way he does when something is not quite the right shape.

Part Five. The Ribbon

"There is a plan," said Odin.

He held out his hand, and Tyr came forward and laid the ribbon in it. It lay across the palm of the old god's hand like a long, pale cobweb. It was so soft that it didn't seem real.

"It is called Gleipnir," said Odin. "It was made by the dwarves, out of six impossible things: the sound of a cat's footstep, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the spit of a bird, and the... well. It is thin as silk and stronger than iron. If it is tied round a wolf, he cannot break it."

"Why is it a ribbon?" said Felix.

"Because we tried a chain," said Skadi, looking away. "Twice. He snapped it. And it frightened him. And us."

"A chain is hard and heavy," said Frigg. "A ribbon is soft. He will not even feel it. We would only tie it on for the night, until the moon has gone down. For his own safety. And everybody's."

"Is that all?" said Alex.

"That is all," said Odin.

But everyone in the ring had suddenly gone quiet, and nobody was looking at the ladle. Tyr, who had been standing by the tree, had turned his face away.

"There's a bit missing," said Felix. "What's the bit you're not saying?"

Part Six. The Game

"The ribbon has to be tied on," said Odin, slowly, "while he is willing."

"What does that mean?" said Alex.

"It means that he has to be told that it is a game," said Skadi. "Because a wolf will not let himself be tied. We have all tried. So we will say: Look, Fenris, here's a thin ribbon. See if you can break it, to show how strong you are. And if you can't, we'll let you go."

"And will you?" said Felix.

Nobody answered.

"Let him go?" said Felix.

"On Saturday," said Frigg, not looking at him. "If the moon is gone down. If it is safe."

"If," said Skadi. "We haven't decided."

"That's not a game," said Alex.

"It's a... clever way of keeping the moon safe," said Bragi, brightly, and then went red, because everyone was looking at him.

"And he'll want proof," said Odin. "He's not stupid. He will want somebody to put their hand in his mouth, as a pledge. If it is a trick, he would have every right to be cross."

"Who?" said Felix.

The old god looked at the one person in the ring who had not said anything.

Tyr had both hands behind his back. The good one and the wooden one. His face was perfectly calm. He was looking at the ground between his feet.

"I did it once," he said, very quietly. "The first time. When he was smaller."

Part Seven. What Tyr Told Them

He told it standing up. He did not take the ladle.

"The first time," said Tyr, "the gods tried a chain, and a game. I was the one he trusted. I fed him when he was smallest, when everyone else was afraid. He ate from my hand. So they asked me to put my hand in his mouth, and say it was only a game, and that they would let him go."

"And did they?" said Alex.

"I do not think they ever meant to," said Tyr. "When the chain went round him, he understood. He closed his mouth. He did not mean to hurt me. He was frightened, and I had said a thing that was not true. And then he broke the chain, because he is strong, and walked away."

He looked at his wooden hand.

"I had promised him. I knew, when I said it, that I might not be able to keep it. But I said it anyway, because I was told to."

"You lost your hand," said Felix.

"I did," said Tyr. "It is quite a good hand, now. It's oak. But that is not the thing I lost." He stopped. When he went on, his voice was careful, like someone carrying a full cup. "I am the god of exact words. All I have is a promise that is kept. And he never looked at me the same way again. He has not let me near him since. I walk past his hill every morning, and he turns his back."

Nobody in the ring said anything. Bragi had put his harp down.

"And now they want me to do it again," said Tyr. "Put my wooden hand in his mouth, and say it is a game. And if I refuse, they will use the chain."

Part Eight. Alex Notices

It was quiet.

Alex had been sitting with his knees up, chin on them, looking not at Tyr, but at everyone else. He did it without meaning to. He is the one who notices.

He noticed that Skadi was not smiling, and that she had not even got a very good idea. He noticed that Frigg's hands, in her lap, were twisting a corner of her dress, over and over. He noticed that Bragi had put down his harp, and that Odin's two ravens had gone still on his shoulders, and that one of them, Memory, had his beak tucked under his wing.

"Felix," he whispered. "They're scared."

"I know," said Felix.

"No. All of them. They're not being horrid. Look. Skadi's scared. And Frigg."

"I know," said Felix, quietly. "I think the puppy's scared too."

"But he's a puppy," said Alex. "He ate my... well, he ate Ollie's sandwich."

Something was happening to Felix's face. He had the look he gets when he is about to ask a question that sounds simple, and isn't.

He put his hand up.

Part Nine. The Ladle

"May I?" said Felix.

Everyone looked at him. A thing like this had not happened in the Thing for about a thousand years.

"The small ones may speak, by tradition," said Odin, after a pause. He looked at the others, and a few of them nodded. "If they have the Ladle."

Bragi passed it across. It was very heavy. Felix held it in both hands, like a trophy, and Alex held on to the handle, a bit, so that it would not wobble.

"I've got a question," said Felix. "And it might be a silly one."

"Silly ones are the best," said Odin, who looked as if he did not mean it.

"Has anyone told him?" said Felix.

"Told him what?" said Skadi.

"That the moon's a person," said Felix. "That Mama Quilla's a person. And that he's not allowed to eat her. And that it'd upset her, and everyone."

There was a pause.

"He's a wolf," said Skadi.

"He's a puppy," said Alex.

"It's not that sort of thing, you can't just..." said Skadi.

"Has anyone asked him?" said Felix. "Before the ribbon? Has anyone said, Fenris, please don't eat the moon, and here's why?"

Nobody spoke at all. It was so silent that they could hear the ravens' feathers rustle.

"Because that," said Felix, "is what we do at school."

Part Ten. Nobody Had

"We have never," said Odin, slowly, "talked to him about the moon."

"He's not a talking sort of wolf," said Bragi.

"He talks to Hel," said Tyr. It was the first time he had spoken since his story. His face had changed. "She talks to him all the time. He listens. He is cleverer than any of you think."

"We had thought," said Frigg, "that it would not do any good."

"But did you try?" said Alex.

The gods did not look at each other. They looked at their hands, and at the grass, and at the tree. And Skadi, who had been so stern, put down her bow, slowly.

"No," she said. "I do not believe that any of us has tried."

It was the sort of silence that comes after somebody has dropped a plate, and then, instead of being cross, everybody has realised they were all holding it.

"Interesting," said Odin, at last. He stroked his beard. He seemed to be thinking very hard, like an old tree being asked to change direction. "A child's idea. I can't say I'm against it."

"It would have to be somebody he trusts," said Frigg.

"Hel," said Tyr.

"Who is on the other side of the sky," said Skadi.

"Yes," said Felix. "That's the thing."

Part Eleven. Alex and the Lady with the Bow

That's when Alex got up and walked across the ring.

Nobody stopped him. He crossed the grass in his school shoes, straight to the lady in the white fur cloak, who was still standing there with her bow on the ground, and he stood in front of her. He came up to about her belt.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Alex."

"I know who you are," said Skadi. She did not sound cross. She sounded tired. "I do not often talk to people who are the size of a stool."

"Are you scared of him?" said Alex.

"I am a hunter," said Skadi. "I am not scared of anything."

"Everybody's scared of something," said Alex. "It's all right."

Skadi looked down at him for quite a long time. Then she let out a breath, and her shoulders came down about three inches, and she sat on a stump and put her chin on her fist. It turned out that she was not very much taller, sitting down.

"I am scared of what it would mean," she said, in a low voice. "If we do nothing, and he eats a moon, he is the beast who ate the moon. For ever. Even if he is sorry. They will never let him be anything else. I would rather tie a ribbon round a puppy for one night than watch him be that for always."

"Oh," said Alex. He had not thought of it like that. It was a good reason.

"So you see," said Skadi, "I am not horrid."

"I didn't think you were," said Alex. "I thought you were scared. It looks the same, from outside."

Skadi laughed. It was a short, startled laugh, like a hiccup.

"Have you ever given him a cuddle?" said Alex.

"I am a hunter," said Skadi.

"That's a no," said Alex. "You could try. It's good. He's got a lot of fur." And he walked back across the ring, to his brother, with the feeling of having done a thing that had not quite been his job. Behind him, Skadi was looking at her hands, very thoughtfully, as though she were trying to remember what they were for.

Part Twelve. Until Friday

"Then this is what we shall do," said Odin.

He stood up. The ravens flew up off his shoulders, and settled again. It was clear that something had been decided, and that nobody was entirely happy about it, and that nobody was entirely unhappy either.

"We shall wait," said Odin. "Until Friday. No ribbon, no chain, no hand in anybody's mouth. If the swap is put right, and Hel and the wolf come home, they will be asked. Properly. By somebody he trusts. And if he promises... we shall see."

"It is a risk," said Skadi, stiffly. "A large one."

"It is," said Odin. "I have not asked anybody anything for a very long time. I should like to see what it is like."

"And if he doesn't promise?" said Skadi, more quietly.

"Then it is the ribbon," said Odin. "On the night of the full moon. And Tyr will do it, and I'm sorry."

Tyr said nothing. He bowed his head.

"That's fair," said Alex, in a small voice. "Sort of."

"It's the best I can do," said Odin. He looked, for a moment, old, and very kind. "I am more tired than you know, young man. Run along. Get your friends to play their game."

The ring broke up. Bragi picked up his harp. Frigg gathered her skirts. And Mama Quilla, in the sky, said in a thin, hopeful voice, "I'd be good about the bite. I've had worse."

Part Thirteen. What Alex Said to Tyr

Alex found Tyr under the big tree, afterwards, on his own.

He was sitting with his back against the trunk and the ribbon in his lap. He was not winding it any more. He was only looking at it, and Alex thought it was the loneliest thing he had ever seen: a big man, and a very thin ribbon, and nothing else.

Alex sat down beside him. After a moment, Felix sat down on the other side.

"I'm sorry about your hand," said Alex.

"It was a long time ago," said Tyr.

"I'm sorry about him," said Felix.

"That is what I mind," said Tyr.

Neither of them knew quite what to say. So they did what they do at home when somebody is sad, which is nothing, close. Alex leaned his head on Tyr's arm. Felix leaned on the other side. Tyr, after a bit, put his good arm round Alex, and his wooden one round Felix, and they all sat there and looked at the hill in the long, low light.

"Tyr," said Felix. "You said the wrong thing was the promise. Not the wolf."

"It is the promise," said Tyr, quietly.

"So we'll make another one," said Alex.

"Which is true," said Felix.

Tyr stared at them. He looked at the ribbon, and then, very slowly, he laughed. It wasn't a big one. It was creaky, like a gate that had not been opened for a long time. But it was a laugh.

Part Fourteen. Something in the Collar

They were walking back down to the Quiet House, in the dusk, when the cat came home.

She came out of the long grass at the bottom of the hill, from the direction of the stream, as if she had been out for a stroll. Her tail was straight up. There was a smear of silver on her nose, and a wet patch down one side, and a small, damp, very crumpled piece of paper tied to her collar with a bit of green wool.

"Willow!" said Alex, and ran.

She let him pick her up. It was exactly two seconds. Then she wriggled down, and walked, with her tail straight up, round both of their ankles, once, and sat down in front of Felix.

She looked at him. She looked at her collar.

"She wants us to take it off," said Felix, in a funny voice. He could hardly get the knot undone, because his hands were shaking. It was a piece of green wool that he knew very well. It was the same colour as Maya's pencil case.

He unfolded the paper.

It was a page from a notebook. It was damp and a bit smudged, but the writing was in capitals, so there was no mistaking it. They had written it in pencil, large, as if the person writing was in a great hurry.

It said:

WE KNOW. JANUS TOLD US. WE ARE TRYING. DON'T WORRY. HEL IS VERY SERIOUS. WOLF ATE A COAT. PLEASE WRITE BACK. LOVE MAYA (AND KENJI, AND OLLIE, AND DOT).

And underneath, in a different, much messier hand:

P.S. I WILL TRY. HEL.

Alex and Felix read it three times. Then they stopped reading, and just held on to it, one at each end, so it would not blow away.

"Maya," said Alex.

"They know," said Felix.

Willow, sitting between them, gave a long, loud meow that said, as clearly as anything, You are welcome.

Alex put his finger under the very last line. Felix put his finger beside it, on the word try. And with the note held between them like a small white flag, they said it, at exactly the same time. "Monday."

The End.