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him?”
    “She refused to marry him, sire.”
    Reynard snorted. “So would I. Well, this is where you wish us to go, puss. But how do we get in?”
    “This mess is impenetrable,” complained Theo.
    Marco spotted a hole in the tangle. He jumped off the horse’s neck and crawled into a niche that only he saw. Inside was a tunnel large enough for a man to crawl. He came to lead Reynard to it. Theo scoffed, but Reynard followed, trusting.
    “You can’t go in there, sire!” Marco gave Theo a disgusted look. He would never win a princess or a kingdom with a quitter’s attitude like that. Reynard seemed equally fed up.
    “If you won’t come, then hold my horse and guard my back! Come on, friend puss. Show me what you’ve brought me so far to see.”
    With the aid of Reynard’s sword they chopped through the thorns and emerged on the road to the capital. Beyond the hedge it felt as though the very air was asleep. Not an insect buzzed, nor a bird sang. Now Marco could see the castle. He trotted toward it with Reynard beside him.
    Just outside the walls Marco smelled sulfur. He stopped, on guard. Reynard wrinkled his nose.
    “Let’s go in. It stinks out here.” He made for the drawbridge, and a black shape rose out from moat. It roared, baring hundreds of white fangs. The prince drew his sword. “A dragon!”
    Desdemona! Marco threw himself at her neck, clawing and biting. Her big head swung around to snap him asunder. Reynard recovered his wits and dove into the fray.
    Together they slashed at the scaly hide. Desdemona must have been hiding here all these years to prevent Briar Rose’s rescue. She raked at Reynard’s arm and drew blood. In spite of her size she was not as swift as Marco, and Reynard’s sword thrusts were weakening her. She knocked Marco sprawling with a backhanded swipe and aimed a bite at the prince’s head. He jumped back and chopped down on her neck. She shuddered, her shape collapsing into a smaller beast: a manticore. Reynard was surprised, but only for a moment. He redoubled his attack, striking again and again, ignoring the pain in his arm. The manticore shrank to a leopard, then to a fox, and finally to a mouse racing for the safety of the black tangled thorns.
    Marco sprang after her and grabbed her by the scruff. With one shake, he broke her neck. Dangling the corpse from his mouth, he trotted back to the prince. When he passed the midden heap, he dropped Desdemona’s body on it.
    “Why, you’re as brave as a man,” Reynard said, following him into the castle environs.
    Marco gave him a look. The prince was covered with dust and blood. He must not go to the princess like that! Marco led him up to the well in the center of the silent courtyard, sat down on the cobbles and began to wash himself with his tongue.
    “I see!” The prince laughed. “Wherever you are taking me, you wish me to clean up first. Well,” he said, wrinkling his nose,” I do smell like I’ve traveled a thousand leagues.” He threw the bucket down the well. The sound of the winch as it hauled the full pail to the top was the first homely sound heard there in ten years.
    Once they were both washed, Marco led him to the White Tower. The guards at the door still slept.
    At the top of the stairs, a fantastic web of thread barred their way. It was a thing of beauty, but also of danger. Skeletons of monsters were tangled in it, as well as the bones of a man or two, like flies caught in lace. Reynard pushed at the fine netting, and it enveloped his hand. He tried to pull free, to no avail.
    “What is this, friend? A trap? Help me!” Scrabbling in the walls made Reynard grab his sword from his scabbard. Marco turned his big eyes to look for the source of the sound.
    “Who is there?” a high-pitched voice squeaked.
    “It is I, Humberto!” Marco called in their shared language.
    “Marco!” The mouse scrambled out of a hole near the floor. He embraced the cat, and looked up at the man. “My goodness, he’s big.