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[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Final Day

Welcome back to Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

At Camp Tolkien, Saturday is Free Day! Today, we bring back all the activities from the past week, and you can join in whichever one you wish. This is your opportunity to try an activity that you didn’t have a chance to try earlier in the week, try an activity from a day you missed, or to repeat a favorite activity. Try one or try them all–it’s your free day, so do what you like.

The activities will be listed under the cut. They will be listed in the same order they were provided during the week.

An optional additional activity for this last day of Camp is

Farewells: Tell us how your Camp experience went. Which activities did you most enjoy? How much progress did you make? What is your favorite thing that you created during this camp experience?

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

Have fun, go forth, and create!

Monday

Letter Writing: Share a letter written by a character from your project. If you want to make it a postcard, include a picture that relates to some element of your story.

Singalong: Listen to some music and use a lyric to inspire some element of your project.

Swimming: Set a timer for ten minutes and write. Come up for air, take at least a five minute break, then write another ten minutes.

Sandcastles: Describe a building in the setting of your project.

Tuesday

Shadow Puppets: Describe at least three characters in your project, using only 1-2 sentences for each.

Foraging: Find a piece of paper that is not writing paper–it could be a napkin, an envelope, a piece of newsprint, etc.–and use it to hand-write something related to your project.

Cookout: Write a short scene and make sure to describe it using all five senses.

Canoeing: Write for five minutes. Open a new document and try to write the same scene from memory. Compare the two versions and keep your favorite.

Wednesday

Truth or Dare: Talk about a secret from a character’s past OR tell us about something they’re terrified to do.

Knot-tying: Write down two things that happen in your story, then make a list of at least five intermediate steps that happen between those scenes.

Tree Climbing: Complete three ten-minute writing sprints, aiming for a higher wordcount each time.

Stargazing: Work on your project in the dark, using only candlelight or flashlight (or screen light) for illumination.

Thursday

Dodgeball: Write down five terrible ideas of things that you would never want to happen in your story. Then take one of those terrible ideas and figure out how the story could change to make that terrible idea make sense.

Charades: Describe your project via emojis or memes.

Water Balloon Toss: Write for ten minutes. Write for eight minutes and try to reach as close to the same word count as possible. Repeat this exercise three more times, decreasing the time by two minutes each time.

Tie-dying: Work on your project using at least three different font or pen colors. (Black and blue are not allowed).

Friday

Talent Show: Show us at least three characters from your project, and tell what their most impressive talent or trait is.

Field Trip: Work on your project in a location outside your place of residence--cafe, library, park, etc.

Marching Band: Listen to a favorite song. Start writing when the song starts and see how many words you can write before the song ends.

Tug-of-War: Write or summarize an important scene of your project from one character's point-of-view, then write or summarize the same scene from a different character's point-of-view.

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 11

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Talent Show: Show us at least three characters from your project, and tell what their most impressive talent or trait is.

Field Trip: Work on your project in a location outside your place of residence--cafe, library, park, etc.

Marching Band: Listen to a favorite song. Start writing when the song starts and see how many words you can write before the song ends.

Tug-of-War: Write or summarize an important scene of your project from one character's point-of-view, then write or summarize the same scene from a different character's point-of-view.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 10

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Dodgeball: Write down five terrible ideas of things that you would never want to happen in your story. Then take one of those terrible ideas and figure out how the story could change to make that terrible idea make sense.

Charades: Describe your project via emojis or memes.

Water Balloon Toss: Write for ten minutes. Write for eight minutes and try to reach as close to the same word count as possible. Repeat this exercise three more times, decreasing the time by two minutes each time.

Tie-dying: Work on your project using at least three different font or pen colors. (Black and blue are not allowed).

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 9

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Truth or Dare: Talk about a secret from a character's past OR tell us about something they're terrified to do.

Knot-tying: Write down two things that happen in your story, then make a list of at least five intermediate steps that happen between those scenes.

Tree Climbing: Complete three ten-minute writing sprints, aiming for a higher wordcount each time.

Stargazing: Work on your project in the dark, using only candlelight or flashlight (or screen light) for illumination.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 8

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Shadow Puppets: Describe at least three characters in your project, using only 1-2 sentences for each.

Foraging: Find a piece of paper that is not writing paper--it could be a napkin, an envelope, a piece of newsprint, etc.--and use it to hand-write something related to your project.

Cookout: Write a short scene and make sure to describe it using all five senses.

Canoeing: Write for five minutes. Open a new document and try to write the same scene from memory. Compare the two versions and keep your favorite.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 7

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Letter Writing: Share a letter written by a character from your project. If you want to make it a postcard, include a picture that relates to some element of your story.

Singalong: Listen to some music and use a lyric to inspire some element of your project.

Swimming: Set a timer for ten minutes and write. Come up for air, take at least a five minute break, then write another ten minutes.

Sandcastles: Describe a building in the setting of your project.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Free Day

Welcome back to Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

At Camp Tolkien, Saturday is Free Day! Today, we bring back all the activities from the past week, and you can join in whichever one you wish. This is your opportunity to try an activity that you didn't have a chance to try earlier in the week, try an activity from a day you missed, or to repeat a favorite activity. Try one or try them all--it's your free day, so do what you like.

The activities will be listed under the cut. They will be listed in the same order they were provided during the week.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

Have fun, go forth, and create!

Monday

Icebreakers: Tell the other campers about the project you’ve brought to camp by writing a one-paragraph summary.

Photography: Find or create at least five reference pictures that visualize settings and/or characters in your project.

Archery: Set a timer for two minutes. Write as many words as you can in that time. Repeat this four more times, for a total of five mini writing sessions. Keep track of your word count for each, and let us know your high score.

Nature Walk: Work on your project while you’re outdoors.

Tuesday

Orienteering: Draw a map of a location in your project–a building, a neighborhood, a town, a world, whatever you wish. Note that does not have to be an accurate map–it could be a certain character’s perception of their surroundings, it could be biased, it could be more about artistry than facts, it could just be a napkin scribble if you want.

Painting: Write a detailed description of at least one character in your project.

Scavenger hunt: Incorporate the following five words in whatever you write for your project: friend, tree, march, red, finish. Alternately, find as many of those words as you can in what you already have written for your project, and share each sentence.

Rock climbing: Set a timer for thirty minutes and try to finish as much of a draft of a scene as you can in that time.

Wednesday

Alphabet Game: Make a list of twenty-six things that could happen in your story–each one starting with a different letter of the alphabet.

Dioramas: Write a detailed description of one room in one setting in your project.

Hiking: Go on a walk outside and use something about the experience (a sensory detail, something you saw) as inspiration for your project.

Zipline: Write as fast as you can for ten minutes. You are not allowed to backspace, cross out, or delete anything during that time.

Thursday

Friendship Bracelets: Tell us about two characters who are currently friends, or talk about a childhood/former friend of one of your characters.

Skits: Write a short dialogue scene in script format.

Relay Race: Start a stopwatch. Write 100 words. See how long it took you. Set a timer for the same amount of time, then see how many words you can write in that time.

Tumbling: Switch up the format of how you work on your project. If you usually type, write by hand (or vice versa). If you must type, type in a different program, or use a different-colored font.

Friday

Woodcarving: Take a previously-written portion of your project and try to reduce its wordcount by 25%.

S'mores: Set a timer for five minutes and write as many words as you can. Then do a ten-minute writing session. Then a fifteen-minute one. Then treat yourself to a snack.

Storytelling: Tell us about a story from within the world of your project. It could be a folktale, a bit of history, family lore, something from a character's backstory, whatever you like.

Movie Night: Listen to a favorite movie soundtrack while you work on your project.

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 5

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Woodcarving: Take a previously-written portion of your project and try to reduce its wordcount by 25%.

S'mores: Set a timer for five minutes and write as many words as you can. Then do a ten-minute writing session. Then a fifteen-minute one. Then treat yourself to a snack.

Storytelling: Tell us about a story from within the world of your project. It could be a folktale, a bit of history, family lore, something from a character's backstory, whatever you like.

Movie Night: Listen to a favorite movie soundtrack while you work on your project.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 4

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Friendship Bracelets: Tell us about two characters who are currently friends, or talk about a childhood/former friend of one of your characters.

Skits: Write a short dialogue scene in script format.

Relay Race: Start a stopwatch. Write 100 words. See how long it took you. Set a timer for the same amount of time, then see how many words you can write in that time.

Tumbling: Switch up the format of how you work on your project. If you usually type, write by hand (or vice versa). If you must type, type in a different program, or use a different-colored font.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 3

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you're in--brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising--Camp Tolkien's activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today's four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish--choose more than one if you want to.

Alphabet Game: Make a list of twenty-six things that could happen in your story--each one starting with a different letter of the alphabet.

Dioramas: Write a detailed description of one room in one setting in your project.

Hiking: Go on a walk outside and use something about the experience (a sensory detail, something you saw) as inspiration for your project.

Zipline: Write as fast as you can for ten minutes. You are not allowed to backspace, cross out, or delete anything during that time.

When you're finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 2

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you're in--brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising--Camp Tolkien's activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today's four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish--choose more than one if you want to.

Orienteering: Draw a map of a location in your project--a building, a neighborhood, a town, a world, whatever you wish. Note that does not have to be an accurate map--it could be a certain character's perception of their surroundings, it could be biased, it could be more about artistry than facts, it could just be a napkin scribble if you want.

Painting: Write a detailed description of at least one character in your project.

Scavenger hunt: Incorporate the following five words in whatever you write for your project: friend, tree, march, red, finish. Alternately, find as many of those words as you can in what you already have written for your project, and share each sentence.

Rock climbing: Set a timer for thirty minutes and try to finish as much of a draft of a scene as you can in that time.

When you're finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Day 1

Welcome to Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you're in--brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising--Camp Tolkien's activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today's four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish--choose more than one if you want to.

Icebreakers: Tell the other campers about the project you've brought to camp by writing a one-paragraph summary.

Photography: Find or create at least five reference pictures that visualize settings and/or characters in your project.

Archery: Set a timer for two minutes. Write as many words as you can in that time. Repeat this four more times, for a total of five mini writing sessions. Keep track of your word count for each, and let us know your high score.

Nature Walk: Work on your project while you're outdoors.

When you're finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[inklings-challenge]

Camp Tolkien: Official Announcement

Welcome to Camp Tolkien!

This writing event is meant to be a little retreat in the middle of summer, giving writers the chance to work on a beloved project in the company of fellow writers.

Writers are invited to bring a project to Camp Tolkien--whether you're brainstorming, outlining, drafting, or editing--and spend the two weeks at camp working on your project. While other Inklings Challenge events are geared toward short stories, Camp Tolkien is meant to give writers a chance to make progress on larger projects. You can work on a short story if you wish, but since we're not aiming to finish the project by the end of the event, this is also a chance to work on whatever project is nearest and dearest to your heart at the moment--a novel, a play, an epic poem, whatever you like.

Camp Tolkien will be in session from June 9, 2025 through June 21, 2025. Every day from Monday through Friday, Camp Tolkien will offer four different summer-camp-themed activities. Each of these activities will be a writing prompt or challenge meant to inspire you in your project and/or add some fun to the writing process. Writers will choose at least one of the four activities to join in, though you can choose to complete multiple activities if you wish.

The prompts will be aimed at different parts of the writing process. Some will be better-suited for drafting, while others will work better for people who are outlining or brainstorming, and some are more about adding some excitement to the writing process itself, no matter which stage you're in. The hope is that everyone attending Camp Tolkien will find at least one activity per day that they can apply to their stage of the writing process.

For example, a day's list of Camp Tolkien Activities might look something like this:

Photography: Find at least five reference pictures that visualize the setting or characters of your project

Friendship Bracelets: Tell us about two characters who are currently friends, or talk about a childhood/former friend of a character

Nature Walk: Go on a walk outside and use something about the experience (a sensory detail, something you saw) as inspiration for your project

Rock Climbing: Set a timer for thirty minutes and try to finish as much of a draft of a scene as you can in that time

After finishing for the day, writers are invited to reblog that day's post, telling us which activity they joined, and either sharing what they wrote or telling us how the process went.

Each Saturday will be a Free Day, where writers can look over all the activities offered from the previous week and choose any activity they wish to use for that day's prompt. This could be a chance to complete an activity from a day you missed, or to complete an extra activity that you never got to.

The final day of camp, June 21, 2025, writers will get the chance to talk about their progress on their project and how the overall camp experience went.

This is a very low-key event, meant to make the writing process fun. People can join in as much or as little as they wish, and there is no sign-up process. Writers are just invited to check the blog each day and join in the fun of Camp Tolkien.

Any questions can be directed to the Inklings Challenge blog via ask box or DM.

And that's Camp Tolkien! Now go forth and create!

[inklings-challenge]

2024 Inklings Christmas Challenge Archive

The Blind Astronaut and the Sun by @greater-than-the-sword

Christmas Dress Tradition by @allisonreader

Christmas in Raenova by @iminlovewithpercyjackson

The Empress Celeste by @physicsgoblin

Jessica's Christmas Surprise by @allisonreader

A Jules and Vern Christmas by @fictionadventurer

Twelfth Night Among the Trees by @mademoiseli

[inklings-challenge]

2025 Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge Archive

All the Trails in the Wood by @writing-by-the-pale-moonlight: A Little Red Riding Hood Retelling

Bittersweet by @physicsgoblin: A King Thrushbeard Retelling

Bright Wings by @lauraschiller: A Swan Lake Retelling

Cinderella Retelling by @confetti-cat

A Father's Heart by @fictionadventurer: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

For a Song by @fictionadventurer: A Lute Player Retelling

Mercy Screams Its Violent Love by @ladyminaofcamelot: A Twelve Brothers Retelling

Sleeping Beauty Retelling by @allisonreader

[inklings-challenge]

Bright Wings

(Written for the @inklings-challenge Four Loves Challenge.)

You may think you know this story. 

Think again.

Once upon a time, a handsome prince lost his way while hunting in the woods. Just as the prince had reached what is now called Swan Lake, and was taking aim at two particularly fine birds (even a whole flock, some say; hunters’ tales always grow in the telling), what should happen but, instead of both taking flight, one swan should suddenly spread her wings to shield the other? 

Surprised and touched, the prince lowered his bow. He was still more surprised when the rising moon broke through the black pines to shine upon their wings, and in the blink of an eye, two young women stood before him: one dressed in white and one in black, both lean and strong and silver-haired, our faces alike as two coins. We held our heads high, even as we trembled. 

I am the woman in black, and this is my story. 

The prince hardly noticed me that night, nor did I wish him to do so. The threat of sharp iron still rang through my bones, and so I faded into the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on my sister. Our father had always warned us that men (except for himself, naturally) were not to be trusted. In this arrow-wielding stranger, I saw all his teachings confirmed. My sister, however, always braver than I, forgave the prince as soon as his bow dropped into the grass. She held out her hand to him with all the grace and dignity of her nature, and he bowed over it with the air of one dazed.

“Forgive me,” he said. “If I had known … that is, I never meant to frighten you.”

Odette merely smiled and beckoned me forward.

“Do not be afraid,” she said. “He will not hurt us. Will you, Master … ?”

“Prince Siegfried, at your service.” He swept off his feathered hat. “And … might I have your names?”

“I am Odette, and this,” she drew her arm around my shoulders, “Is Odile.”

That was how it began.

He could not stay long that night, or any other night that followed. Father, who unlike us could change his shape whenever he chose, guarded his lands in the form of an eagle-owl. Whenever we heard him scream, or his wings darkened the moon, we always sent our secret visitor away, fearing for his life should Father discover him. Yet even those brief visits were enough for the prince to open a whole new world to us. He brought us rare fruits we had never tasted, oranges and mangoes from the palace greenhouses. He lent us books from his library, tales of adventure we read to each other in whispers. He played the flute for us and we danced, Odette following the music step by step as I spun and flapped to rhythms of my own. 

I no longer feared him as time passed. How could I, when he was so kind? I can see him now, with leaves in his hair and laughter in his eyes, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He would twirl me about and ruffle my hair as if I were his little sister, but it was Odette’s hand he lingered over every time he bowed farewell. My heart leapt when I saw him coming, only to sink when he left.

Still, I did not wholly trust him. 

When I found my sister weeping in her bedchamber one night after he had gone, my heart sank with premonitions of trouble to come.

“Is it Siegfried? If he has hurt you, I shall peck out his eyes.”

“He has asked me to marry him … and I said yes.”

“That is indeed cause to weep,” I said. “But I am surprised you think so.”

“Don’t you see?” She cried. “He wants me to come to the ball tomorrow, to introduce me to the Queen and ask for her blessing. Tomorrow is a new moon! Even if Father permits it, which he never will, I cannot go. I shall be a swan all night. He will be shamed before the court when the girl he spoke of never arrives, or if I arrive in swan form, they will call him mad. He will think I do not care for him, and that will break my heart,” and she hid her face in her pillow, like the waning moon behind the clouds. And like the moon, I realized, her thoughts were so hidden from me, I could barely follow them.

“You cannot mean to tell me,” I faltered, “That you do care for him?”

Odette’s look made it clear I was a fool for even asking.

“Enough to marry him? Enough to leave me here - with Father?”

Her eyes widened. It was a measure of her love for Siegfried that, for once, I had not even entered into her plans.

“I could take you with me, perhaps,” she said. “As my lady-in-waiting, if the Queen permits?”

I had little faith in such an idea. Siegfried had spoken to us often of the stifling conventions of his mother’s court, which he sought to escape with us. Any place that made Father’s lands look like freedom was not one I cared to call home.

“You do not know Father if you think you can escape him so easily.” Yet as the brief light of hope faded from her eyes, to be replaced by despair as deep as any I had ever seen (for she did know Father, and therefore knew that escape would be anything but easy), I knew what I must do, though fear lay in wait like a steel-tipped arrow.

“If you cannot go to the ball,” I said, “I will.”

I was the darkness to her light, and so our shape-changes were mirrored. If the swan in her was strongest during the new moon, for me it was weakest. 

“Oh, sister! Would you?”

“I will speak to the prince for you. He is not worthy of you, but if you want him, I shall bring him to you. I give you my word.”

She embraced and thanked me half a dozen times over, but even as I stroked her hair and told her all would be well, I felt a splinter of darkness drive itself into my heart.

Once I helped her unite with her prince, I thought, how long until they both abandoned me?

/

I had tracked Prince Siegfried to his palace more than once, thinking it useful to know where he lived. It was not far as the swan flies, yet by the time I saw its pale walls painted red by the setting sun, my wings ached from the speed of my flight. I had seen no shadow, heard no rustle, felt no stir in the air but my own, but all my bird-instincts cried out that I was being hunted.

I landed awkwardly inside a hedge maze in the gardens, so as to change shape unnoticed at moonrise. I had not expected the maze, which seemed so simple from above, to loom so tall and dark over my head once I was inside it. I turned one corner, then another. Surely, I would soon find a way out.

Something rustled behind me.

I whirled around.

Father stepped out of the shadows, his great brown eagle-owl’s wings shifting into a velvet cloak. He could fly as silently as darkness itself when he chose. I should have known.

“You must have thought you were very clever, child. Did you think I would not notice you stealing away?”

“Father! I - I can explain - ”

“No need.” He held up one leather-gloved hand to silence me. “Your sister told me everything.”

“ … she did?”

“Young Prince Siegfried has caught your fancy, has he?” His golden eyes gleamed like a night-hunter’s. “Odette tells me you have reached an understanding already, that all you need is the Queen’s consent. I had no idea you were capable of such ambition.”

I thought, at first, there must be some misunderstanding. I opened my mouth to correct him - tell him it was Odette, not I, who had fallen in love with the prince - when I realized what must have happened. Odette had made me her scapegoat, to protect herself from Father when he had demanded to know where I was. She had lied to him.

(Impossible, those who have heard this tale will say. She was the light to my darkness. If anyone is a liar, I am - but I leave that to you to judge.)

Neither of us had betrayed the other to Father on this scale before. Then again, neither of us had disobeyed Father on this scale either.

While I was still speechless, what Father did next frightened me more than punishment, for I could not begin to guess his purpose. 

He smiled.

“Come now, stop staring. I could not have chosen better for you myself. I am proud of you, my future queen.”

Never once had he told us so, in all our sixteen years. “Truly, Father?”

“Truly.” He placed his heavy hands on my shoulders and - for the first time in my life - kissed my brow. 

“But I must warn you first.” His smile sharpened. “Have I ever told you why you and your sister are swans by day and maidens by night?”

“All I know is that we have lived this way as long as I can remember. Why?”

“Because swans mate for life, of course.” He pulled a black feather from my hair and turned it in his fingers as he spoke. “When your mother broke her word, I could think of no better shape to teach her the meaning of loyalty. She sought to fly from me. I gave her wings.”

He crushed the feather in his fist and let the fragments fall.

My mind reeled. I remembered nothing of our mother, and neither, I believed, did Odette. There was not so much as a portrait of her anywhere in Father’s manor. He never spoke her name. We had never missed her, not knowing what there was to miss, but we had often wondered what she might be like. The mockery in his voice as he spoke of giving her wings made my own flightless body heavy as lead.

“You … cursed her?” I whispered through my dry throat. “Is that why she died?”

“I did not kill her. A hunter’s arrow did. It was a merciful death, I assure you.” There was no mercy in this sorcerer’s eyes. 

“So take care, my cygnet. If you or the one you love should ever break your word to each other, you will be a swan all your life, and Odile no longer.”

“I understand, Father.”

And indeed I understood - that my body, my sanity, my very self, were held by a tyrant from whom there could be no escape.

/

Father led me out of the maze, through the gardens and up the palace steps, where we joined the throng of arriving guests. I had not given a thought to my appearance, but Father conjured garments for us both. The ball was a masquerade and masked we were, he as an eagle-owl in brown and gold, I as a swan in black and silver. Father showed his note of invitation to the herald at the door, gave our name to him as Tannenwald, and mine as Odette. Soldiers in chain mail stood guard beside the doors and in every corner of the ballroom, to protect the royal family and their guests from just such impostors as we were, but they did not give us a second glance.

That was my chance to tell the truth, to run, to do anything but betray my sister, but Father’s arm and my own cowardice held me fast.

Our false names rang out into the ballroom.

I had never seen so many people in all my life, let alone all crushed together into one hall. More candles burned than we used in a year. Masked strangers whirled about in unfamiliar patterns, smelling of sweat and wine and perfumes. Painted nails flashed like talons, bared teeth like fangs. Fur and feathers shone with every movement. My swan-self screamed a silent warning: hunters on every side.

They all made way as Prince Siegfried bounded across the floor.

Alone among the company, he wore no mask. His handsome face, his blue eyes guileless and open as the lake at noonday, his dark curls that bounced with every step, I would have known anywhere. In honor of his guests, his clothes were finer than any in which I had seen him, though I missed his hunting leathers and was rather in awe of his velvet and gold. It was difficult to imagine this man content in the woods.

He bowed to Father with respect, but without fear. He then turned to me, smiling with unaffected delight.

“Odette! At last! I thought you were never coming - I - that is … how delighted I am to finally make your acquaintance.” He blushed as he took my hand. He could hardly admit to our secret meetings in front of Father. “I had heard that Baron von Tannenwald never left his estate.”

“Only for special occasions,” Father said smoothly. “Such as Your Highness’ coming-of-age, or my daughter’s first ball.” His fond smile looked almost genuine.

“You have two daughters, sir, have you not? Twins?”

“Odile is indisposed tonight. A trifle, never fear. She will soon have her chance.”

“I look forward to it.” Siegfried beamed. “Will you come and meet my mother?”

“We would be honored.”

The prince ushered us to the throne at the far end of the room, upon which Queen Hildegard sat with her courtiers about her. Her face was as handsome as her son’s, her blonde-and-silver hair tied back in a net of pearls, and her gown a rich shade of gold. Father swept her a bow, and I attempted a curtsey. She inclined her head graciously in response, but her smile was uncertain, perhaps even sad.

“You remind me of someone,” she murmured, her eyes fixed upon our masked faces. “I cannot think who it is.”

“This is the young lady of whom I spoke, Mother,” said Siegfried. “I told you she would be here.”

“She is as lovely as you said, my son,” said the Queen. “I am pleased to meet you both. Baron, may tonight be the start of friendship between our houses. Odette, my dear, I hope you enjoy your evening. Take care of her, Siegfried, for she has lived quietly, and we do not wish for the crowd to overwhelm her.”

Tongue-tied, I nodded.

“Of course, Mother,” said Siegfried, “May I begin now by asking for the honor of the next dance?”

“You may,” said Father, handing me over to the younger man like a parcel.

Siegfried led me away, waiting until we were out of earshot - he could not know that Father had the ears of a bird of prey - to lean down and speak to me.

“You look ravishing, though I have never seen you wear black before. I almost took you for your sister.”

One more chance to tell the truth. 

“Thank goodness you are not. Nothing against Odile, she is a sweet girl, only so odd I never know what to say to her.”

Once more, I let it go.

“Have you ever known a young lady to wear only one color?” I said, with Odette’s gentle smile. “We contain multitudes, my prince.”

“So I see,” he said, drawing me close as the orchestra began the next dance.

(I wish I could tell you what came over me when he took my hand. They say I was jealous. As the black swan, what else would I be? They say I set out on purpose to steal him from my sister and win him for myself. That was never my intent, and even if it were, a man’s heart is no trinket for the taking. But I ask you, if you were starving with a banquet before you, could you turn away? If you had lived for sixteen years with such a man as Father, how far would you go for a bit of attention?)

I did not know the dances of this court, but music had always been my refuge, whether it came from the prince’s flute, my sister’s lullabies, or the nightly songs of frogs, birds and crickets by the lake. I could not dance as anyone but myself, and so I did. I jumped. I flapped. I spun myself dizzy. I stomped until the floor shook. I swung Siegfried around, reeled him in and pushed him away. I danced out my wildness and my shyness, my fears and my rage. I danced to drown out the two discordant voices within me: the bird demanding to fly, the woman longing to be seen. 

I looked up, and Siegfried saw me.

The blue of his eyes was nearly swallowed up by the darkness of his pupils. His face was flushed from more than the dance. When he lifted me, I felt the heat of his hands through layers of black silk. 

That look, that touch, though it made my own heart race, by rights belonged to my sister. 

For all our sakes, I had to tell him the truth.

“I must speak to you alone,” I said, catching my breath in the moment between dances.

“Yes … ” He could not tear his eyes from me. “Alone.”

“It is a matter of urgency!” I snapped. “Is there any place we will not be overheard?”

I rose on my toes, searching frantically for Father among the crowd. If I could only get Siegfried far enough away from him, I could end this charade right now and take him to Odette as I had planned from the beginning.

“The balcony!” he gasped. “Come with me.”

He pulled me by the hand, weaving through a swarm of dancing couples, toward the balcony doors. 

He was already reaching for the handle when Father’s booming voice stopped us both.

“Not so fast, Your Highness.”

The other dancers drew away from us as he approached. Some lifted their eyeglasses to stare, others whispered and giggled. Even the musicians, who had just ended their previous piece, did not begin another one. 

In the silence that replaced their playing, I thought I heard a strange tapping sound.

“Sneaking off to a dark corner, were we?” He chuckled. “I was young once too, I understand. But,” his smile flashed into a snarl as his hand shot out to grab Siegfried by the shirtfront. “That is my daughter you are dealing with, not some common tavern wench. I expect her to be treated with all the respect due to her station.”

Gasps and excited chatter rippled through the audience. Apparently, the one thing these people enjoyed more than a dance was a scene. 

“Sir, please - ” Siegfried dropped my hand as though it were a live coal. “It was nothing like that. We were only - ”

“I needed to tell him something,” I broke in. “Somewhere quiet enough to talk, nothing more.”

The tapping continued, followed by a thump, as if something heavy had struck wood.

“Surely telling each other secrets can wait until you are married.” Father let go of Siegfried’s shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles, but there was an implied threat even in this. “You do intend to marry her, no? You have been paying such marked attention to her all evening, I would be very much surprised if that was not the case.”

“Are you implying that my son - your future king - is not a man of honor?” Queen Hildegard had made her way through the onlookers and was frowning at us all with royal displeasure. “Because I raised him as such, and have never known him to be anything less.”

“Please forgive any implied insult, Your Majesty,” said Father. “Naturally, I was concerned for my beloved daughter. When I see a man pulling her away to get her alone - ”

“He did what?” The Queen turned her frown upon her son. “Siegfried, explain yourself.”

This crossfire of questions and accusations from all sides, surrounded by scandal-hungry strangers, backed up against a pair of closed doors and with that relentless tap-tap-tap still sounding in the background, was like a nightmare from which I could not wake. Siegfried must have felt the same way, because when he spoke, he did so with the desperation of a condemned man. 

“Yes! Yes, of course I will marry her. I give you my word!”

The balcony doors flew open as Odette hurled herself through. 

The first thing she saw was her betrothed, with one hand gesturing to me and the other raised to heaven, pledging himself to another woman before her eyes. 

She hovered in mid-air, wings beating hard, beak open as she gasped for breath. Had she flown here for Siegfried, or for me? To keep her appointment, to apologize for making me her scapegoat, or to warn us of Father’s plans? Had he given her the same warning he had given me?

“If you or the one you love should ever break your word to each other, you will be a swan all your life … ”

What had I done?

/

Odette, speechless and tearless, let out a piercing cry and soared into the night.

Rage at all the world, myself most of all, boiled up within me and struck out at the most convenient target: Prince Siegfried.

“There!” I shrieked, pointing to the sky. “There goes your betrothed! I am Odile, you fool, not Odette! I tried to tell you - how could you not know? How can you say you love her, if you cannot even tell us apart?”

Siegfried glanced from me to the moonless night into which Odette had flown, then to Father, the Queen, and everyone watching. His face twisted from confusion to fury as he saw us, saw me, for who I truly was.

“You - you tricked me … you lied to me! Why?”

Too many reasons to name, all of them true, all of them worthless … and all of them drowned out by Father’s mocking laughter.

“You have only yourself to blame, young prince. So this is Odile, is it? No matter.” Father clapped me on the back, sending me staggering toward Siegfried, who recoiled. “You saw what you wanted to see, and blinded yourself to the truth. Still, you had better marry one of my girls, unless you want them both to be swans forever. Which shall it be, boy? Choose!”

Siegfried froze in horror, unwilling to condemn either of us to lose ourselves that way. 

It was the Queen who, hearing Father all but boast of the shape-changing curse upon his daughters, came to a conclusion about her formerly honored guest that did not please her in the least. She stepped forward, snatched the owl-feather mask from his face, and threw it at his feet.

“Rothbart,” she hissed. “Sorcerer. How dare you return, after all these years?”

“Is that any way to greet your future kinsman?” Father raised his arms in mock offense. “Since you banished me from this kingdom, there can be no sweeter irony than for my child to rule it - whichever one of them lasts the night.”

“I see you have no more regard for your daughters than you once had for your wife.” Her lips twitched and her eyes flickered, grief warring with anger across her face. “Ophelie was my friend. For her sake, I should have killed you when I had the chance. Guards, seize him!”

The royal guards drew their weapons and converged on Father. With a flourish of his brown feather cloak, he turned into an owl and flew over their heads, dodging spears and arrows as if they were toys. Guests shrieked and scattered in all directions as the guards tried to evacuate the room. Others raised shields around the Queen. 

Siegfried drew his sword as well, but I caught him by the sleeve.

“Get away from me,” he spat. “Witch!”

“Insult me later,” I shouted over the noise. “We must find Odette!”

“Yes, but - where could she have gone?”

“Where else but the lake?”

If the curse was already working, if my sister was fading and her swan-self taking control, she would be drawn there with the instinct of a bird. And even if she was still herself, where could she go? It was the closest either of us had to a home.

He nodded sharply and leaped over the balcony railing, climbing down by way of a strong vine that grew along the wall. I leaned down long enough to see him land on his feet and run to the stables.

I knew a faster way.

The swan called to us, you see. It was always there in the back of our minds, urging us to take flight. We could only change from swan to girl at moonrise, but from girl to swan at any time, if we were desperate - which I was.

I launched myself off the balcony and let my black silk gown ripple into wings.

/

I found Odette just where I had been expecting her.

An old weeping willow grew by the shores of the lake, its low-hanging branches making a curtain of leaves which, in swan form, sheltered us from the sun, wind and rain. The roots of this tree formed a hollow which, over the years, we had padded with moss, leaves, grass and shed feathers until it was as comfortable a nest as we could make it. We slept there in the daytime, to make the most of our moonlight hours as girls. If Father knew where it was, he had never sought us there. It was the most likely place I could think of for either of us to hide in a time of trouble. I landed on the surface of the lake as smoothly as I could, swam to the willow, and drew the leaf-curtain aside. 

Odette was a ball of rumpled white feathers in the middle of the nest, her head tucked under her wing. Her breaths, still rapid, were the only signs that she was still awake. She had flown so fast; she must have been exhausted. She had always been more of a woman and less of a swan than I was.

I had a thousand things to say to her, but even in the daytime, I would have been at a loss how to begin. How could I explain to her the tangled web of lies, manipulations, resentment and fear that had led us to this? How could I tell her that, when the sun would rise and her mind would break in a few hours, so would my heart?

I stretched out my neck and nudged her gently.

She flew up with a scream and attacked me in a flurry of beak and wings. 

I of all people, her twin, the one fellow creature who understood what it meant to be Father’s daughters, had stolen the only thing she had ever wanted for herself: the love that would have helped her escape. Soon, she would never be herself again, and it would be my fault. What I had done was unforgivable, and we both knew it. I deserved to be torn to shreds.

My swan-self knew nothing of remorse, however. It demanded I fight back, blow for blow, bite for bite, until one of us was dead and the other broken - just as Father would have wanted.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

She was better than this. Even I was better than this. We had to be.

I made myself limp and defenseless, floating on the water among twigs and leaves. I would not raise a wing against her, even if she killed me.

She stopped.

Her head tilted sideways to look at me, her neck lowered, and her wings drooped. She pecked tiredly at our lost feathers, black and white, which had been scattered everywhere. The sorrow in her eyes had nothing swan-like about it.

When she began to shine, my first thought was that sunrise had come early.

Yet the sky above us was still dark, the new moon barely a sliver among the stars. Still she shone, whiter than paper, whiter than snow, then too impossibly bright to look at. I covered my eyes, but my own black wings were shining too, until there seemed no difference between them; both of us glowed with the blue light found at the heart of a flame. The pain of my injuries faded, healed by a warmth stronger than summer sunshine. I called out, and my voice was no longer a swan’s. I found myself laughing, or weeping, or both - and so did she.

When the light faded, we were standing on the banks of the lake, barefoot and tousle-haired, the hems of our dresses soaked with mud, human from head to toe. 

Her face, mirroring my own in wide-eyed disbelief, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. 

We laughed. We wept. We embraced. We pulled water-weed out of each other’s hair and helped each other to the nearby cabin where we kept dry clothes and shoes. We tried to act as if this were any other morning shape-change, when we both knew it was anything but that.

“We broke the spell,” were the first coherent words I found to say. “How is this possible?”

“I am not certain,” said Odette, still breathless, blinking down at her own hands as if newly born. “All I remember is thinking that … ”

“Yes?”

“That I forgave you.” She looked up at me with an astonished smile. “I forgive you!”

“You … you do?”

“Always. Are we not sisters?” She squeezed my hands even as her smile faded and her eyes filled once more. “Can you ever forgive me? It was my idea to lie about which of us was betrothed - ”

“Of course I forgive you, how could I not? Father was using us both.” 

“So he did, but … oh, Odile, why did you let him do it?”

“I was jealous.” Beneath all of Father’s schemes I could have used as an excuse, this was the ugly truth. “No one has ever looked at me the way your prince looks at you.”

“No one has seen us for sixteen years, so how could they?” She tilted her head, bird-like even now, to give me that pointed look that told me to stop acting the fool. “You may yet have your chance. We are free now, to go anywhere and be anyone we choose.”

This idea was beyond my comprehension, so soon after breaking a curse that had lasted a lifetime. 

We could have debated for hours about what to do next, had we not heard the familiar sound of hoofbeats among the trees.

Siegfried came crashing through the undergrowth, leapt down from his horse and ran towards Odette. He stopped short for a moment at the sight of me, but continued on, even as she stood waiting beside me in the doorframe of our cabin with a dignity that would have done credit to Queen Hildegard herself.

“Odette? Thank Heaven you’re alright - but … how?”

“Odile saved me.” Odette wrapped her arm around me, refusing to let me hide (and showing him, unmistakably, which of us was which). 

“We saved each other,” I corrected her. “The spell is broken. We are no longer swans.”

Siegfried stared back at us, lost for words, struggling between joy for her, resentment for me, and sheer amazement at the miracle that had taken place. 

“I am sorry for my part in Father’s plot,” I added. “You deserved better than to be used like that.”

“Indeed not,” said Odette ruefully. “We hardly know each other, as tonight proves, and in that short time we’ve brought you nothing but trouble. I would not blame you if you chose to walk away.”

“Walk away?” Siegfried’s voice rose in disbelief. “Having met your father, if you think I would abandon anyone to him, let alone the woman I - ” He stopped, ducked his head, and shifted from one foot to another, like the bashful boy he must have been not so long ago. 

“I know you have no reason to trust me, after what I’ve done,” he said to Odette. “But please - all I ask for is the chance to earn it back. Let me take you - both of you - back to the palace. You will be under the Queen’s protection. He will never come near you again.”

He held out his hand to Odette.

She hesitated for what felt like a long time, and I wondered what she was thinking. Did she see that same hand in her mind’s eye, gesturing to me as he broke his promise? Which of us traitors would be easier for her to forgive: sister or lover? Did she still love him? Did any of us even know what it was to love?

“Can you really not see the differences between Odile and me?” she asked suddenly. “Or were you pretending not to, and using our resemblance as an excuse? If you were, tell me now. I would rather face the truth.”

“What a fool and scoundrel you must think me … ” Siegfried shrank into his evening clothes. “The truth is that Rothbart was right. I saw what I wanted to see, and blinded myself to the truth. Odile seemed so - so free on that dance floor, so unguarded … ever since we met, I always hoped to see you like that someday.”

Unguarded - with Father watching us all night? And yet I knew what Siegfried meant. I remembered a moment when the music had struck a high note and he had lifted me clear over his head, turning in a circle, so I could see the entire ballroom at one glance. I had never come so close to flying in my human form as I had then. 

“I have never known freedom in all my life,” said Odette, looking up at him so wistfully I began to wonder if I should leave them alone. “But with you, I began to believe it was possible … until tonight.”

“Couldn’t you still believe it? Even now?” Siegfried asked her in a low voice. “Couldn’t you try?”

I withdrew into the shadows. I believe they had forgotten I was there. Neither one could take their eyes off the other, even though Odette still held herself apart. 

Whatever answer she might have given him, though, was drowned out by the scream of an eagle-owl above our heads.

We all froze, like mice in a burrow hoping the hunter will pass them by. We should have known the royal guards could not stop Father, though they had certainly delayed him for a while. Breaking his curse had done nothing to prevent the hot knife of fear that stabbed me as I heard him call. 

We could not spirit our guest away and pretend innocence this time. We had no choice but to face him down.

“Well met, son-in-law,” said Father, landing before us with barely a rustle. “I thought I would find you here. So, have you made your choice?”

He gave no sign of being surprised, or even aware, that Odette and I had broken the curse. His owl-senses must have told him what shape we wore already.

“I am not your son–in-law!” Siegfried reached for the sword at his belt, which I had assumed was ceremonial, but which gleamed sharply as he drew it. “You have no right to call yourself a father to these women. In the name of the Crown, I order you to let them go.”

“Order me?” Father scoffed. “I give the orders here, little prince.”

He gestured with one hand. Siegfried’s sword glowed red-hot, as if freshly forged. He cried out in pain and flung it away, clutching his burnt hand. The sword landed in the lake with a hiss of steam.

“Father, please listen.”

Odette’s voice rang out in the cool night air, clear and confident, without a trace of the fear she must have felt. Siegfried had stepped in front of us, but now she did the same. She held out her arms to shield us. Even in the pale light of the new moon, the long sleeves of her dress shone like bright wings.

I had seen this before.

That sweep of white blew layers of dust from my memories, opening a strongbox my mind had locked and buried years ago. I had never forgotten it, only feared it - until now.

Baroness Rothbart. Ophelie. Mother. 

I remembered.

/

Mother is packing. Odette smiles as if we are going on holiday, but I am anxious. Mother is throwing clothes into a bag at random, not even folding them, which is unlike her. She keeps looking over her shoulder at the door. I try to stay out of her way as she hurries back and forth. 

The door creaks open. Father is angry. I thought he was going with us, but no - Mother really means to go without him.

“If you must leave, good riddance, but you will not take my flesh and blood from me.” He waves a commanding hand at us. “Girls, come here.”

Odette takes a step forward. I hide behind Mother’s skirt. She gathers us both close. “You are on the wrong path, Eric. You might not see it, but I do. I will not leave them - and certainly not with you.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” He raises his hands to cast a spell.

Mother throws herself between him and us, white sleeves billowing, 

He does not stop.

The world twists all out of shape, like your face reflected in the bowl of a spoon, like fragments of colored glass being shaken in a kaleidoscope. My bones are on fire. Odette is screaming, or is that both of us? No, all three.

We are a swan and two cygnets, lying dazed on the floor.

/

I remembered it all - Father’s hand tearing like talons through the air, Mother’s hand warm and trembling on my shoulder. I remembered the strange, kaleidoscopic world I had glimpsed as the curse took hold, a world of magic underneath the reality to which I was accustomed. It would have been beautiful, were it not so terrifying. Was this what Father saw, every time he cast a spell?

He made it look so easy. Could I do it?

Even as my mind reeled, Odette was calling on all the strength she had to reason with him.

“We are no threat to you,” she said. “All we ask is that you allow us to accept the prince’s generosity, and live at court like any other baron’s daughters. Our curse is broken, so you will no longer have to spend magic to provide for us. We can leave each other in peace. Was that not what you wanted by arranging this betrothal?”

Siegfried’s head lifted in joyful surprise, as this was the first sign Odette had shown of accepting his olive branch. Father, however, scowled.

“What I want, what I have always wanted, is to rule … and for that end, I begin to suspect the boy is more trouble than he is worth.”

Again, he flicked aside the veil between worlds; a small movement this time, but I still saw it. A crossbow appeared in his leather-gloved grasp.

“Stand aside, girl. This won’t take long.”

“We’ll see about that.” Siegfried, brave fool, raised his fists. “If this is your challenge, sorcerer, I accept.”

“No, please!” Odette cried. “Father, let us go!”

Father raised his weapon. Siegfried pushed Odette aside. History was repeating itself, just as it had all those years ago. Once again, I was helpless to do anything but watch … or was I?

Oh Mother, this is why you tried to save us. Shall we never be free of him?

That was when I felt something brush my shoulder, soft as feathers, and heard a voice in my mind that might have been Mother - or Someone else.

I am with you, my children. Free yourselves.

I burst out of the shadowy cabin where I had been hiding and flung up my hands. 

To this day, I can neither describe nor understand what reached out through me the moment I opened the veil. It was a force that could reshape reality as a child plays with mud. If Father thought he could control it, he was deeply mistaken. When he had told me he was the one to choose what creature we turned into, either he had been lying, or he did not understand magic as well as he thought.

Whatever it was, it poured out of me, flowed harmlessly in streams around Odette and Siegfried, and caught hold of Father as if he were a toy.

His conjured crossbow dropped into the grass. He roared and struggled, but the magic did not let him go. It tugged and twisted him this way and that, stretching his face into a beak, pulling at his shoulder blades until wings erupted. At first, I thought he was changing into his owl form again - although when he’d done it for himself, it had never looked this painful - but if so, this owl was taller than a man and had feathers that gleamed like knives. Its screech had a grating sharpness nothing living could produce - and yet, somewhere underneath it was still Father’s voice.

Odette was the first of us to recover her presence of mind. She pounced on the fallen crossbow and pushed it into Siegfried’s arms.

“Run!”

And so we did.

No matter what the ballads tell you, there is nothing glorious about battle. It consists of scrambling up trees, behind bushes or down muddy holes in the hope of not having the flesh torn from your bones. The crossbow was a magical weapon with an endless supply of arrows, but Siegfried’s shots kept glancing off the creature’s scales. The few that struck seemed to enrage it even further. All that saved us was the increasing wildness of its attacks. We were watching Father lose himself before our eyes.

But Siegfried was still a master archer, and eventually there came a moment when his enemy dragged himself along the ground, breath rattling, leaving a dark trail along the shoreline.

I thought of Odette, pecking at the feathers we had shed during our fight. If I spoke now, I might regret it all my life, but no less would I regret staying silent.

“Father? Forgiveness breaks the curse. It will heal you. It doesn’t need to end this way.”

Could I forgive him? Could Odette? I saw her from the corner of my eye, hiding behind a tree trunk, watching warily to see what he would do. Siegfried held his bow steady, poised to shoot at the slightest movement. 

The creature moaned. His eyes, yellow as an owl’s, seemed to darken with a look that was almost human. 

I took one small step toward him, then another. Odette emerged from behind the tree. Siegfried lowered his weapon.

The creature snapped at me, who was closest. Odette pulled me back. Its owl-eyes flashed up at us with mindless animal aggression.

Siegfried’s last shot struck home inside its open beak.

It fell, thrashing, and slid sideways down the bank and into the lake. The water hissed and bubbled until it was still.

Siegfried’s bow vanished in a twist of nothingness. He ran to Odette, kissed her as if he were the one drowning, and held her close as she melted into him. I backed away, but Odette caught me by the sleeve and pulled me in. Siegfried, after a moment’s hesitation, kissed me on the forehead like a brother.

The sun was rising. By its light, I saw us in living colour for the first time: Siegfried’s hazel eyes shadowed with weariness, Odette’s blue as the morning sky and red-rimmed with tears, and my own red-blond hair straggling down around my face. Our dresses, no longer enchanted to mimic the feathers of water birds, were streaked with dirt. We were beautiful. We were alive.

“Let me take you home,” said Siegfried, offering us each an arm.

Needless to say, we accepted.

THE END

[inklings-challenge]

Before February is over, have some brief snippet-sneak peeks at my retelling for the Four Loves challenge over at the @inklings-challenge!

In which Cinderella can see whether or not people are lying, and her stepmother is very much of the opinion that "yep no that's a curse, stay away". This causes Some Angst and conflicted family relationships.

Sadly not going to make the deadline like I'd hoped, but the full story should be finished and up soon if life permits!