The Queens Terrace
Three
“Hurry, they’re gaining!” Shrieked Allie.
“I know!” This was Furby.
“No more running. We must fight to live!” Cried Fortin, brave as ever.
Allie shuddered as the huddle moved on. “Bad idea!” She shouted noisily, but her words were simply lost to the wily wind.
Fortin halted. Allie paused too, then ran to help him. Furby watched Ivy continue mercilessly until a courageous-looking Allie stopped her sister with a fierce glare. You didn’t often see a glare on Allie’s freckled face (Her nose scrunched up, her eyebrows arched and her eyes thinned to a slim horizontal line). Fortin nodded to his wolf opponents who were all in some sort of battle row (It looked like it had been planned, how the weaker looking were lined up in the front row and the other wolves behind them). The stronger looking were all at the back, menacing looks on their faces. One had a poking up ear, and it had a bullet, a real bullet, through it.
Fortin bowed - samurai style. He dropped into a complicated move, then karate kicked one of the approaching wolves. The wolf in question leaped eight feet high, letting out one of the most diabolical screams you could ever imagine. Another yowled in obvious pain as it got spiked by a stick. Fortin glared menacingly at two, and there was such force in his gaze that they hurried off, biting one another in their wake. He punched a particularly energetic wolf (he knew it was energetic as he watched it bound) in the jaw, stepped on another's paw, then hissed in such an abnormal way at all the other wolves that they nipped at one another's heels in their frantic scurry to get away.
“Aah-ya!”, Fortin cried, piercing the silence, “That’ll teach you! You’ll never mess with us ever, EV-ER again!”
Ivy's face hardened for a moment at Fortin’s immense triumph.
“Oh young and silly Fortin, that was a terrible performance.”
Fortin opened his mouth indignantly but was cut off by Allie.
“Oh shut up, All-aaarrrggghhh!” Shrieked Ivy.
Though Ivy was Fortins student, he felt so much closer to Allie. She was ultra friendly and smiled at him frequently. Ivy was the complete opposite. Fortin was on cloud nine, and Ivy would bring him down to earth with a nice blow to the head. Usually with Furby’s fire-fighter toy. It was frequently missing. Also, Ivy tried to scare Fortin with the ghost stories she so often read in the newspaper. She did so now, saying:
“Weekly Ghost Story 4”
She paused.
“Times have changed in the home of Greekly Manor. Young Flora Potts claims to have found her true love, but alas it is not to be. Here’s why: “A gory story makes hearts shine, sweetie.” Says the husband-to-be, while drinking his whisky that young Flora has created for him.
“That’s pleasant.” Responds Flora uncertainly. It seems she does not care for gory stories and the like.
“Did you ever marry somebody else?” Questions young Flora. This has obviously been asked before, and it is an uncomfortable subject.
“You know that, Flora, I have indeed married somebody else before you.”
And Flora nods. “Who?”
“Why, the duchess of Macedonia. . .”
“What was she like?” Flora is trying to get somewhere but her husband is simply not following.
“She was kind, gentle. . . Flora, make me another whisky! She was much prettier than you, I must say.”
Flora is making the whisky and her face is twisted in fury. “I see. . .” she is struggling to control her anger. You see, she has been called young and ravishing for a long time. Suddenly her face brightens and she continues stirring the whisky. Then her hand flashes as she adds a berry. ‘Berry Whisky’ her husband-to-be calls it.
They are getting married tomorrow and her husband-to-be is tired. He downs the new whisky. Flora does not speak at all as he drinks it thirstily.
“Let us retire to bed.” Says the fiancee of Flora Potts.
So they do. The next morning, the husband-to-be is dead. There are many rumours, but our personal one:
Flora poisoned the whisky last given to the late husband-to-be.
Her fiancee unsuspectingly drunk it.
The berry our dear Flora popped in was a poisonous one.
Well, that’s all for now.
More next week!”
She stopped, wondering what the next issue would be, and the others took the chance to chat about Fortin’s triumph.
“I, however, agree with Allie. You were uber cool!” Furby said.
“Hope not. Fortin would be shivering.” Allie told a seriously lame joke.
“It was nothing, and, actually, I’m hot.” Fortin replied.
Suddenly, right before their eyes, a streak of gray swiftly leaped over a clump of nearby blueberry bushes and bulldozed past Ivy. After skidding to a stop, the streak growled menacingly. What was it? Placing its front paws on Ivy, who had been knocked to the ground when the streak had sailed past, it roared and Allie recognized at once what it was: another one of those pesky wolves! The wolf looked vicious, had a glossy coat that was the picture of war and had a mouth of incredibly sharp fangs.
“IVY!” Allie screamed, reaching for her sister who was now clamped extremely firmly in the beast's jaws (and in not the most dignified position, either), saliva threading from the wolf's tongue into Ivy’s hair. I’ve already lost one sister, will I bear it if I lose another? Thought Allie, watching in horror as the wolf padded along the path leading away from the trio. “Go, shoo, little doggy. Let Ivy go.” Furby said to the ‘little doggy’ crossly.
Fortin got over the shock of the wolf appearing, but unfortunately the wolf clearly sensed this, and so he glared once more at the reluctant trio, then bounded haughtily off into the glowing orange sunset.
“I know!” This was Furby.
“No more running. We must fight to live!” Cried Fortin, brave as ever.
Allie shuddered as the huddle moved on. “Bad idea!” She shouted noisily, but her words were simply lost to the wily wind.
Fortin halted. Allie paused too, then ran to help him. Furby watched Ivy continue mercilessly until a courageous-looking Allie stopped her sister with a fierce glare. You didn’t often see a glare on Allie’s freckled face (Her nose scrunched up, her eyebrows arched and her eyes thinned to a slim horizontal line). Fortin nodded to his wolf opponents who were all in some sort of battle row (It looked like it had been planned, how the weaker looking were lined up in the front row and the other wolves behind them). The stronger looking were all at the back, menacing looks on their faces. One had a poking up ear, and it had a bullet, a real bullet, through it.
Fortin bowed - samurai style. He dropped into a complicated move, then karate kicked one of the approaching wolves. The wolf in question leaped eight feet high, letting out one of the most diabolical screams you could ever imagine. Another yowled in obvious pain as it got spiked by a stick. Fortin glared menacingly at two, and there was such force in his gaze that they hurried off, biting one another in their wake. He punched a particularly energetic wolf (he knew it was energetic as he watched it bound) in the jaw, stepped on another's paw, then hissed in such an abnormal way at all the other wolves that they nipped at one another's heels in their frantic scurry to get away.
“Aah-ya!”, Fortin cried, piercing the silence, “That’ll teach you! You’ll never mess with us ever, EV-ER again!”
Ivy's face hardened for a moment at Fortin’s immense triumph.
“Oh young and silly Fortin, that was a terrible performance.”
Fortin opened his mouth indignantly but was cut off by Allie.
“Oh shut up, All-aaarrrggghhh!” Shrieked Ivy.
Though Ivy was Fortins student, he felt so much closer to Allie. She was ultra friendly and smiled at him frequently. Ivy was the complete opposite. Fortin was on cloud nine, and Ivy would bring him down to earth with a nice blow to the head. Usually with Furby’s fire-fighter toy. It was frequently missing. Also, Ivy tried to scare Fortin with the ghost stories she so often read in the newspaper. She did so now, saying:
“Weekly Ghost Story 4”
She paused.
“Times have changed in the home of Greekly Manor. Young Flora Potts claims to have found her true love, but alas it is not to be. Here’s why: “A gory story makes hearts shine, sweetie.” Says the husband-to-be, while drinking his whisky that young Flora has created for him.
“That’s pleasant.” Responds Flora uncertainly. It seems she does not care for gory stories and the like.
“Did you ever marry somebody else?” Questions young Flora. This has obviously been asked before, and it is an uncomfortable subject.
“You know that, Flora, I have indeed married somebody else before you.”
And Flora nods. “Who?”
“Why, the duchess of Macedonia. . .”
“What was she like?” Flora is trying to get somewhere but her husband is simply not following.
“She was kind, gentle. . . Flora, make me another whisky! She was much prettier than you, I must say.”
Flora is making the whisky and her face is twisted in fury. “I see. . .” she is struggling to control her anger. You see, she has been called young and ravishing for a long time. Suddenly her face brightens and she continues stirring the whisky. Then her hand flashes as she adds a berry. ‘Berry Whisky’ her husband-to-be calls it.
They are getting married tomorrow and her husband-to-be is tired. He downs the new whisky. Flora does not speak at all as he drinks it thirstily.
“Let us retire to bed.” Says the fiancee of Flora Potts.
So they do. The next morning, the husband-to-be is dead. There are many rumours, but our personal one:
Flora poisoned the whisky last given to the late husband-to-be.
Her fiancee unsuspectingly drunk it.
The berry our dear Flora popped in was a poisonous one.
Well, that’s all for now.
More next week!”
She stopped, wondering what the next issue would be, and the others took the chance to chat about Fortin’s triumph.
“I, however, agree with Allie. You were uber cool!” Furby said.
“Hope not. Fortin would be shivering.” Allie told a seriously lame joke.
“It was nothing, and, actually, I’m hot.” Fortin replied.
Suddenly, right before their eyes, a streak of gray swiftly leaped over a clump of nearby blueberry bushes and bulldozed past Ivy. After skidding to a stop, the streak growled menacingly. What was it? Placing its front paws on Ivy, who had been knocked to the ground when the streak had sailed past, it roared and Allie recognized at once what it was: another one of those pesky wolves! The wolf looked vicious, had a glossy coat that was the picture of war and had a mouth of incredibly sharp fangs.
“IVY!” Allie screamed, reaching for her sister who was now clamped extremely firmly in the beast's jaws (and in not the most dignified position, either), saliva threading from the wolf's tongue into Ivy’s hair. I’ve already lost one sister, will I bear it if I lose another? Thought Allie, watching in horror as the wolf padded along the path leading away from the trio. “Go, shoo, little doggy. Let Ivy go.” Furby said to the ‘little doggy’ crossly.
Fortin got over the shock of the wolf appearing, but unfortunately the wolf clearly sensed this, and so he glared once more at the reluctant trio, then bounded haughtily off into the glowing orange sunset.