Later when the footman carried the last of her purchases into her room, she closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it. It was afternoon and she must get her things put away so she might be present in the firehall for evening. Poet had made no appearance as yet and sent no message.

Upon her arrival in the firehall, Wenn noticed a considerable lull in the usual boisterous chatter of those gathered. She wandered over toward the service area, feeling a need for something warm to drink and perhaps a nibble to go with it. On her way, she heard her name and turned. The familiar woman's voice was usually welcome, but something in the way she called to Wenndolyne gave her the shivers. Lady Raen rose immediately and closed in. She reached out for Wenn's hand and squeezed as she imparted quietly, "I have ta tell ya somethin' I dinnae want to, Wenn."

Immediately Wenn thought of Poet. There was a terrible reason he'd been delayed. Something happened on his journey! Something so horrid that Raen could barely speak it to her.

"Is it Poet? Is he ill? Pray tell, M'Lady Raen, please! I must know!" She was trying to fight off her panic but unsuccessful at it.

Raenthrea shook her head. "Nae, dear. I've not seen nor heard of yer Poet today."

Wenn blinked. Then what? whom? she thought. What news could have Raen's expression so disturbed and her manner so hesitant?

Squeezing Wenn's hand again, Raen's eyes went dark with sadness. "Seems that Simon may have drowned in th' moat."

The stone floor felt soft beneath Wenn's feet. She searched Raen's eyes until her own became too watery for her to see. Hot pain flared around her heart then sank down through her body, taking her spirit with it. No. NO! She looked at Raen again and repeated it in a choked whisper. "No. This is NOT true."

"Wenn, m'love... I'm afraid it is. He's not been seen since he went under this morn, despite all the folks searchin' for him."

She didn't recall walking back across the firehall, but she must have, for when her legs finally buckled, she was sitting at her usual place at the hearth. She began to sift through how to dispel this ugly rumor. She must help find Simon and prove that he had not drowned, but how could she go about that? She could not even swim to aid the other searchers. Still, Wenndolyne knew, she knew to her depths that Simon could not be... He could not be gone. She would not be able to bear it if this light in her life went out.

~~~

Camelot rarely saw threat or harm from other adjoining realms. The air of peace and friendliness was instrumental in this as well as the generosity of the citizens. Most any who truly needed assistance could have it without price, or in exchange for fealty and promise to assist others when able. The guard and armory of Camelot were also quite extensive and this generally deterred any attempts to make trouble, even from the most ambitious of rivals.

So, the moat surrounding the main castle was mostly ornamental and was in fact oft used for recreation. A portion near the drawbridge had been banked and even set with large stones for those wishing to sit and enjoy the day outside the firehall. Many citizens could be found collecting there and the company was just as good without as within. The drawbridge naturally made a convenient platform from which to dive into the deep moat, if one was so inclined.

As Wenn began to learn, Simon had spent the morning playing in the moat with several others. They were playing a game of moat monster, each taking a turn as the 'monster' and diving beneath the surface to scare the others by grabbing at their feet and such. Simon took a turn as the monster and went under. All his playmates, some adults even, waited anxiously for the exhuberant child to make his moves. He didn't. He never surfaced.

A frantic call went out and many began to go under, looking for any sign of him. Water drakes were called in from the Lake Watch to dredge for Simon. After this search, there still was no hint of what had happened or where he'd gone. There was no proof except the long hours that he'd been under, perhaps tangled in something they could not see in the murky depths. Yet, Simon could not possibly have survived underwater for the length of time that had passed.

The entire hall was subdued. The search had been abandoned until the Admiral could be found. Wenn sat for a long time, curled over with her face in her hands. She eventually noticed a soft brush of warm fur at her feet. It was Ancient Wolf. His emerald eyes had lost some of their glitter too. When Wenn looked silently down to him, her smile was missing.

**M'Lady Wenndolyne, I heard today's tidings. I came to see how you are faring.**

"It can't be so, mlord. I can't even think it."

**Aye** He kept to himself any words of wisdom or solace he might have. She could not hear them just now. It was too soon.

Wolf scanned around the room, looking at the small clusters of people, all seemingly embroiled in the topic of Simon, what might have happened, retelling the events over and over again. Although Wolf's hearing was naturally fine-tuned, he was sure that Wenn had been hearing it too, perhaps too much. He rose to his paws and took a pace backward.

Wenn looked up to see where the wolf was going. She had to squint as he was enveloped in bright light, the light of transformation which rose up from the height of the wolf to the stature of a man. Wolf cared not if others noticed, he was watching for Wenn's reaction as the light faded. Lord Wolf now watched from a tanned youthful face. He was still recognizable as the same man who had previously appeared as an elder, but his features were smooth and golden from the sun. His hair was long and still stark white. His robe had changed not at all, nor had the depth and wisdom of his forest emerald eyes. He simply appeared much younger, closer to Wenn's age.

The shock of whom Wenndolyne now saw, versus what she expected, had her dumbfounded. She remained so, while a fine strong youthful hand reached out. Out of habit, she lifted her hand to his. Lord Wolf bent to kiss the back of her fingers. He gently lifted to prompt her from her perch on the hearthstone bench. He led her through the firehall toward the gardens. Wenndolyne went along with him, but she had no idea how. She was so overwhelmed and puzzled that she couldn't fathom what part of her remembered how to walk.

The breeze of coming night began to awaken her from her stupor. The sky was alight with hues from palest blue to orange to deepening violet, all streaked across the shifting clouds. She slipped her hand from Wolf's and wandered away from him a few paces to take in the view and the fragrances. His voice, when it came, turned her around to look at him again. She could not yet put together the voice with his 'new' face. She'd only just gotten used to the idea of the man and the wolf and not entirely that.

Lord Wolf could see the flash in her eyes. He didn't trust himself to read it accurately. "Beg pardon, M'Lady Wenndolyne. I felt you could use a bit of fresh air, away from the din of saddened voices."

All at once, all topics collided in Wenn's thoughts. She blurted them out in no order and making no sense. "Simon... but Poet's not here. None can find the Admiral and you spoke to him for me?! One moment old man and wolf and NOW---" Her voice hitched and caught in her throat.

"When you wish an explanation for my actions, I shall surely offer it as sincerely as I can and as much as I myself know."

His cryptic response was no help but then she couldn't make sense of anything anyway just now. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood shivering. It was not so cool in the gardens. The breeze was actually warm. Her shivering was from deep inside and she had no idea how to stop it. Her gaze dropped to the grass. Her eyes closed. She tried to force her will upon her confused state and calm herself.

Warm fingers brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. The soft voice of the mage spoke closely to her flushed face. "I am sorry for what part I've had in upsetting you, but I could not let you slip away without an attempt."

Lord Wolf reached aside and snapped a white rose from its stem. As he drew the satin petals along Wenn's cheek, she looked up. He presented the rose to her. She took it into her fingers then scanned the young face again. Her brows furrowed. She tried to see where the lines and wrinkles of the older man had gone. She began to shake her head slowly.

"I don't understand this at all. I don't understand these changes you can make. I don't know why you would--- I don't understand."

His mouth drew into a grin. "I do not pretend to fathom all there is to affection myself." His fingertips leafed through the petals of the shaking rose in Wenn's hands, then lifted to let his thumb cross her soft cheek. "But your light is visible from quite a distance, M'Lady, even to one who was unaware that he was looking."

Wenn's blush was even more endearing and her soft grin was a relief. If he accomplished nothing else this eve, at least he felt he was removing some of her sorrow.

"You flatter me too much." She looked at the rose again then to his hand as he retracted it, then again to his smooth tanned face. "You can appear as anything you wish? Any way you wish?"

"Within a few limits." He slipped his hands around her fingers and opened her hands to support the rose loosely in her palms. He snipped off a bit more of the rose's stem then lay the bloom into her hands again. Wenn merely watched.

Wolf covered the rose and her hands with his own. She noted the structure, the lean grace of them as he began to lift slowly, drawing the rose up from her skin to hover. Wolf parted his hands so Wenn might look down between them and watch the rose. She saw it begin to glimmer. The petals shifted slightly as it hovered there in the protection of their hands. She knew it was not the wind that held the flower aloft or made it shiver. Nor was it the sunset reflecting onto the petals that made it glow. It was Lord Wolf. She could feel whatever it was that worked on the bloom, tingling a little beneath her own skin.

Gradually the white rose began to turn in its suspension. A crystal clear globe formed around it, first just a hint, then as solid as glass but perfect, without blemish or bubble. The rose was captured within, unchanged, caught in its own perfection. When Wolf's hands slowly fell away, the globe dropped the few inches into Wenn's cupped palms. She turned it and held it up to peer at the darkening sky through the distortion of glass.

When Wenndolyne looked up, Wolf was watching her. He was spellbound by her wonder. It was part of the light he saw in her. He suspected that even when such things were no longer new to her, she would still find awe in them. This was something he felt he'd lost. Now he was nearly awestruck by Wenn herself.

"A very nice trick, that." She reluctantly offered the globe back to Wolf.

He smiled and shook his head. "No. I gave the rose to you and now it shall be beautiful forever. No tricks, just a learned use of magical energy. A gift of my birthright, like presenting myself as an elder or a wolf or a younger man." He grew a bit nervous then. "Beyond your surprise, do you find this form... pleasing?" How strange for him to have such a knot twisting in the pit of his stomach.

Wenn had to smile at this. "Well, less fatherly, certainly."

"And this too?" Wolf leaned in to press the softest kiss to the corner of Wenn's mouth. It was a bold move but she didn't draw back from it. When Wolf straightened again, Wenn swallowed and could say nothing. Too much for one day. Too much for many days.

Both of them turned sharply as something rustled in the hedge on the other side of the path. The sound might have been nothing more than others walking in the gardens but dusk was falling and so it was difficult to see.

Sir Poet, on the other hand, had seen all too well. Upon return from his extended duty, he immediately sought Wenn in the firehall. He heard about Simon. He heard about Wolf's request to the Admiral. Poet was told that Wenn went out to the gardens, so he ran out there immediately. He expected to find her there, to offer her comfort, to--- He did not expect to find her in a kiss with Lord Wolf. But of course, he was the white wolf with whom she'd kept so much company in the hall. Poet knew of Lord Wolf, knew he was a mage and on the Council. He'd seen him at a few official functions. He hadn't realized until this moment that the white wolf was the honorable mage. His heart sank. What could he give to Wenn that Lord Wolf could not give her ten fold?

He didn't stay to watch Lord Wolf escort Wenn back to the firehall. He felt rather helpless to do anything and not at all in any condition to challenge him. Raen had told Poet that the Admiral was to make a decision on this night, but he was obviously going to be busy with continued searches for Simon or... Poet had no wish to consider the alternative. He was very fond of his young friend, Simon, and could not accept that he was gone.

Sir Poet slipped away from the gardens and into the night in search of the Admiral. Perhaps he could help find out what happened to Simon. Perhaps he could miraculously convince the Admiral that his love for Wenndolyne should outweigh Lord Wolf's power and wealth, not to mention his magical abilities. Arin had to admit that he had a hard time believing this himself.