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The clunking noise stopped.
“Who’s there?” the bear growled.
That was not possible. Bears did not speak.
And palaces were usually built above ground not below, I reminded myself. And people–even fae–usually did not have horns growing from their heads or the eyes of snakes.
Steeling myself, I pushed open the door again and peeked through the crack.
The bear was looking right at me.
I gulped.
“Yes?” the bear said coolly. There was still a faint growl to its tone. Perhaps that was always the way with bears.
It was tempting to just come right out and say “What the hell are you?” But I suspected this would be considered unforgiveable decorum. Even to a bear.
“H-hello,” I managed. “I’m Morgan.” Morgan, you know, the official royal mistress of your bloody prince. I decided to leave that part out.
“I know,” the bear said, with a decidedly grumpy tone. “Lady Morgan, so we’ve been told.”
I decided I’d take it. I’d had enough of being a princess anyhow.
“And?” Did bears have eyebrows to raise? If so, this bear was raising theirs.
I stood up a little straighter. This bear had an attitude. Well, I could relate to that. “I’m also starving. I won’t get in your way, but do you think I could come in and try to find something to eat?”
The bear looked at me from behind expressive large brown eyes, full of surprising wisdom and depth.
“Well, come in then,” the bear said gruffly.
With fascination, I realized the bear might be female. Still, it was hard to say for certain.
I pushed the door open wider and took a tentative step into the room. “It’s an honor to meet you...?”
There was silence for a moment as the bear looked at me. For a moment I wondered if they were going to tell me to get lost after all. Or eat me.
“Hawl,” the bear said finally. “What do you want to eat?”
“Hawl. Pleased to meet you, Hawl. I’m ready to eat just about anything. An apple, an entire loaf of bread. I’ll take whatever is easiest and get out of your way.”
Hawl examined me from behind fur-rimmed dark eyes. “There are pastries on the tray there. Be careful, they’re probably still hot.” The bear nodded towards a copper tray on a large wooden table in the center of the room.
I stepped towards the tray and picked up a pastry. The aroma was overpowering. Apple and cheese and cinnamon. My knees felt weak as I opened my mouth and took a large bite. Immediately I let out a faint moan.
“I told you they were hot,” Hawl said, a little crossly. “Silly little creature.”
I groaned again, but not from pain. The pastry was hot but it hadn’t burned my mouth. The texture was light, flaky, and buttery. A mixture of sweetness and tartness filled my mouth as I tasted the filling in the center.
“Good,” I managed to mumble between mouthfuls as I crammed more pastry in as fast as I could. “Very good.”
I swallowed and tried to get a hold of myself. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
It was difficult to tell from the bear’s features but I thought Hawl seemed pleased.
Sure enough. “Hmph,” they grunted.
I couldn’t stand the curiosity anymore. “I beg your pardon if this is rude, but there are no creatures like you where I come from. May I ask... what are you?”
