Gwof and the others eventually returned safely to the palace.
The tense standoff that had previously taken place above The Statue of the Wolf King ultimately dissipated without a trace amidst Gray Tooth's tearful, choked roar.
"It's His Highness Gwof! No one is to fire!"
Gray Tooth's voice, transmitted through the communication system, echoed in every cockpit, like a thunderclap splitting the tense air.
The pilots, who had been poised and ready, some slammed on the brake pedals, others hastily pulled back on the control sticks. The propellers of the wooden planes abruptly slowed down,
their sound shifting from a frenzied buzz to a docile hum. The formation that had been poised to encircle instantly scattered, circling The Statue like a flock of tamed raptors.
A conflict that was almost on the verge of erupting was thus quietly resolved in that familial cry, removing the first obstacle on this long-overdue journey home.
And now, the palace hall seemed even more spacious than Gwof remembered. The enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the dome was particularly eye-catching—it was assembled from countless pieces of iceland spar, polished as thin as a cicada's wing.
Each piece was so transparent you could see the silhouettes of people on the other side, their edges meticulously rounded by artisans. When sunlight slanted in through the stained-glass windows,
the light refracted off the iceland spar into multicolored spots of light—red like ripe berries, blue like deep-sea waves, green like early spring leaves, like countless fluttering, colorful butterflies
dancing gracefully in mid-air before gently landing on the thick wool carpet covering the floor, as if someone had casually scattered a handful of crushed gemstones, glittering brilliantly. Walking on it felt like treading on starlight.
The carpet was woven from arctic fox fur, its color as pure as freshly fallen snow, the weave so fine and dense it felt soft and springy underfoot, almost sinking half a foot in, absorbing even the sound of footsteps completely.
Lia was led by a She-Wolf in maid's attire to a carved chair draped with a lace tablecloth. The chair's armrests were intricately carved from ivory with entwined lotus vines, cool and exquisite to the touch.
She sat upright, her small hands properly folded on her knees, unconsciously wrinkling the pink fabric of her skirt.
Faced with a room full of wolves, some sitting, some standing, and the silver candlesticks and gilded dinner plates, she seemed particularly ill at ease, even her breathing softened, afraid her rough breath might disturb the refined elegance of the room.
Yet, her eyes couldn't help but steal glances at the animal skin tapestry hanging on the wall—a painting of a wolf pack charging through the snow, their fangs gleaming coldly, their forms agile like streaks of gray lightning, so awe-inspiring it filled her with both fear and secret admiration.
Lettuce sat beside Lia, tightly clutching a half-embroidered handkerchief in her hand, the cloth bearing an unfinished dandelion.
She, too, was somewhat reserved, her back ramrod straight like a reed trembling slightly in the wind, but more than that, she couldn't hide her curiosity.
Her gaze, like a timid fawn's, quietly swept over the carved beams and pillars (with lifelike little Squirrels hidden among the entwining vine patterns), the bronze stove in the corner (the fire burning brightly, the scent of pine wood wafting gently from its mouth, filling the air with warmth),
finally landing on those furry wolf tails hanging by the chairs, occasionally brushing lightly against the carpet. She couldn't help but purse her lips in a secret smile—so a wolf's tail could be this soft too, like a moving puff of cotton.
Little Bottle paid no mind to such formalities. He was seated by a long table laden with pastries, piled before him with candied fruits (hawthorn, crabapple, and purple berries he'd never seen before), fragrant roasted nuts (shelled pine nuts and walnuts, each plump and full), and freshly baked wheat cakes sprinkled with sesame seeds and powdered sugar, steaming hot.
He plopped down unceremoniously on an oak chair, which creaked under his weight, but he didn't care in the least. He grabbed a sesame-sprinkled flatbread and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a Squirrel hoarding food, not even bothering to wipe the oily smudges from the corners of his mouth.
Every now and then, he'd pick up a translucent, glistening berry, toss it into his mouth with a crisp 'crunch,' the sweet and sour juice bursting on his tongue, thoroughly enjoying himself as if this weren't a solemn palace banquet but just a familiar snack stall at the village entrance.
Ben stood by the arched window, holding a cup of amber-colored fruit wine, a slice of bright red fruit steeping in the liquid, emitting a faint, sweet aroma.
He looked around with immense curiosity, his eyes hardly able to take it all in: watching the maids (all she-wolves in long skirts, their hems sweeping soundlessly over the carpet) tiptoeing around delivering pastries, their tails elegantly held slightly aloft;
watching a few Little Wolf Cubs who had just learned to walk chasing their own tails in circles by the fireplace, letting out occasional 'aowoo' cries, their voices still soft and milky;
watching the shields hanging on the wall, engraved with wolf head crests, their edges bearing marks of past battles.
His eyes were full of wonder—so this was what the palace of the Animal Kingdom was like. It had the exquisite beauty of a human palace, yet carried a furry, warm coziness, not cold and austere like human castles.
The most surprising one was Gwof.
He sat in a chair reserved especially for him near the head of the table, cushioned with fur, soft and warm.
Yet, he too seemed oddly restrained, his fingers lightly tapping on his knees as if keeping a rhythm known only to himself, his ears twitching occasionally, as if unaccustomed to being the center of attention like this.
His woolen cap rested on the small table beside him, a Gray Mouse perched on its brim.
It lazily curled up, its tail wrapped around itself like a little furball, occasionally scratching Gwof's wrist with its tiny paw, familiar and at ease as if in its own home, completely unafraid of strangers.
Beside Gwof's chair, three half-grown Little Wolf Cubs were playfully hopping and jumping around him.
They were furry, like three moving snowballs, their grayish fur dotted with pastry crumbs.
One moment, they'd rub their damp noses against Gwof's trouser legs, leaving wet marks;
the next, they'd tug at his shoelaces, dragging them sideways as if playing tug-of-war;
and they'd frequently emit soft, whining sounds of affection, treating his chair as a new toy, circling its legs in gleeful frolic, their tails wagging like little whips.
Not far away, a She-Wolf in a sapphire blue velvet gown watched with a smile.
Her fur was like silver frost under moonlight, cascading softly over her shoulders. Fine, gentle lines at the corners of her eyes spoke of a life well-nourished by time and affection.
Watching the little wolves' unruly play, she didn't scold them, only occasionally raising her voice to say,'Slow down, don't bump into the guests,' the doting tone in her voice impossible to hide, like melted honey.
She was Big Brother Wolf's mate, the mother of these three little wolves. Back when Gwof left, she was still a young, inexperienced She-Wolf; now she carried an added air of grace.
Groot sat opposite Gwof. He had grown taller than before, his shoulders broader, looking more adorable and handsome.
He wore a robe of dark silk, its collar embroidered with dark golden patterns.
In his hand, he held a half-finished wood carving, a carving knife still stuck in the wooden tray beside him, its blade dusted with wood shavings.
The wood already had a clear outline, recognizable as a humanoid youth standing tall, his head slightly tilted, even the mischievous lock of hair on his forehead carved vividly—precisely Gwof's human form.
His gaze rested on Gwof, carrying an indescribable touch of resentment, like a neglected child, or as if silently complaining, 'Why did you take so long to come back?'
Unconsciously, his carving knife made a shallow scratch on the wooden figure's shoulder. He quickly withdrew it, as if afraid of actually hurting it, his movements full of care.
Psyche sat beside Groot. She wore a red dress embroidered with silver threads, its hem gently swaying with her breathing, lightly brushing the carpet, leaving a faint trail.
Her eyes also held a trace of resentment, but not directed at Gwof. Instead, she glanced at Groot from time to time, her lips pursed slightly. Her expression seemed to silently complain: If it weren't for you coming back, Groot and I could be quietly enjoying our time alone together, baking treats by the fireplace, basking in the sun on the windowsill—how lovely.
But now, with Gwof back, their alone time would surely be greatly reduced.
Seated in the main position was none other than the burly Wolf King—the one Gwof often referred to as Big Brother Wolf.
He wore a well-tailored dark gray suit that accentuated his tall, straight frame. His collar was open, no tie, revealing a white shirt embroidered with a silver wolf head underneath, lending him less severity and more casual ease.
His gaze was no longer as sharp and piercing as in his youth; instead, it held a tempered gentleness, like warm winter sunlight, looking upon everyone in the hall with eyes brimming with affection.
Watching the Little Wolf Cubs play boisterously, watching Gwof's familiar yet strangely restrained demeanor, and watching the barely concealed curiosity in Ben and Lettuce's eyes as they occasionally raised their wine glasses towards Little Bottle, the rims clinking softly as if to say, 'Eat more, don't be shy.'
It was clear they were having an informal gathering, free from cumbersome etiquette and lengthy speeches, more like the casual chatter of family members reunited after a long separation.
The air was filled with the smoky aroma of roast pork, the sweet fragrance of fruit wine, and the grainy scent of pastries, mingling with soft laughter and the playful sounds of the wolf cubs. It felt warm and cozy, like being wrapped in a thick layer of cotton, bringing a sense of solid comfort to the heart.
As for the others, Gwof had made proper arrangements upon his arrival.
Ugly Duckling had been sent to a special training room—in this world, its condition was somewhat unique, existing somewhere between human and animal, very much like how Gwof was before he learned magic:
It possessed human-level intelligence, capable of understanding complex commands, but hadn't yet mastered the knack of walking like a human, often unable to resist shuffling along on its webbed feet, wobbling after just a few steps.
The palace tutors were teaching it to balance its body, stand steadily on both feet, and even vocalize and speak. Reportedly, its progress was rapid; yesterday, it had managed to take three steps while leaning against a wall.
As for the witch, following Gwof's introduction, she was settled into a small villa on the west side of the palace.
It came with a private courtyard planted with many rare herbs, including glowing datura and sleep-curing moonlight grass, perfectly suited to her interest in herbal research.
Before leaving, she even tugged at Gwof's sleeve and tossed out, 'Come find me if you need medicine.' Her tone remained cool, as if tempered with ice, but it lacked the sinister chill of their first meeting, sounding more like an awkward expression of concern.
Gwof looked at everything before him: Big Brother Wolf's gentle smile, the wood carving of his own likeness in Groot's hands, the furry heads of the Little Wolf Cubs. The lingering restraint in his heart gradually dissipated, replaced by a solid, warm feeling, like warm water gently washing over his chest.
He picked up a berry from the table—a purplish-black fruit that Gray Mouse loved—and offered it to the brim of his hat.
The little creature immediately propped itself up, hugged the berry with its tiny paws, took a crisp bite, then, holding the remainder in its mouth, jumped off the hat, scurried down Gwof's pant leg, and burrowed into his pocket, leaving only the tip of its furry tail gently swaying outside.
'It's good to have you back.'
Big Brother Wolf's voice came through, carrying a smile, like a warm piece of jade dropping into the lake of his heart.
'The roast meat on the table is your favorite from childhood, marinated with honey and rosemary. Try it quickly; it won't taste as good once it's cold.'
Gwof looked up and met Big Brother Wolf's gentle gaze, which held relief, longing, and unconcealed affection.
He suddenly smiled, the corners of his eyes and brows relaxing, like ice and snow brushed by a spring breeze.
Yes, it was good to be back... The atmosphere of the gathering gradually warmed up. The pine wood in the fireplace crackled, making Big Brother Wolf's voice sound even more resonant.
He stood up with his wine glass, his tail unconsciously lifting slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. When he spoke of the kingdom's recent developments, his whole being radiated a triumphant energy, as if what lay before him wasn't the beams of the hall, but the entire map of the forest.
'You have no idea,'
Big Brother Wolf took a sip of fruit wine, his Adam's apple bobbing with a chuckle,
'Now the entire forest is the territory of our Wolf Kingdom.
Every day before dawn, animals carrying their bedrolls rush towards the border—rabbits, deer, even bears that used to hide in mountain caves—all wanting to come here for a bite to eat.'
As he spoke, he swiped a paw through the air as if measuring the vastness of this land.
'Just last month, we took in over two hundred new households. Thank goodness we built those tall buildings, or there'd be no place for them to live.'
Gwof sat quietly listening, twirling an empty wine glass in his hand, a smile playing on his lips.
Big Brother Wolf's words unfolded like a painting before his eyes—the forest paths he once knew might now be paved with smooth stone;
the once-scattered small villages might now be connected into bustling market towns.
'And then there's Aji,'
Big Brother Wolf shifted the topic, his tone full of admiration.
'That kid has really made it! Those ideas you mentioned to him before you left—'flying iron birds,' 'pipes that spit fire'—he actually managed to create them!'
He counted on his claws.
'You saw the airplane today, made of wood, can carry Soldiers on patrol in the sky;
and the machine gun, though made of hardwood, can shoot fruits that mow down a whole patch of bushes;
the most impressive is the missile. Aji calls it 'Flying Fire Meteor.' One explosion can flip over half a small hill, and it can even target!'
Gwof felt a stir in his heart, never expecting Aji to truly turn those whimsical ideas into reality.
But Big Brother Wolf's tone dipped slightly, carrying a hint of confusion.
'Though it's strange to say, these things look powerful but have a major flaw—they stop working once they leave the forest.'
He paused, gestured for a servant to refill his wine, and continued, 'A while back, we sent cavalry to test on the plains outside the forest. The wooden carts stalled after less than three miles, wheels refusing to turn;
last month, we had Gray Tooth and the others fly the plane east to scout. Right after crossing the swamp border, the propeller suddenly stopped, almost crashing them into the mire.
Many animals reported that once outside the forest's range, the things Aji made are just as useless as scrap wood.'
This made Gwof frown.
He remembered following the Wolf Soldiers out of the forest to the Edland Kingdom and couldn't help but interject, 'But last time when Gray Tooth and the others took wooden guns to Edland, didn't they work fine?'
Big Brother Wolf waved a paw, a flicker of puzzlement in his eyes. 'That's the weird part! We investigated. Those wooden guns clearly used the same principle as the current machine guns, yet they worked outside the forest. Old Rat said...'
He suddenly chuckled, 'That old fellow is now a cabinet minister, talking in all sorts of fancy terms, saying something like 'a just war carries its own divine power.' Probably just trying to cheer me up.'
Mentioning Old Rat, Gwof was taken aback.
He remembered that old mouse with the white beard, never imagining he'd become a cabinet minister now.
'With him around, I can finally catch my breath.'
Big Brother Wolf leaned back in his chair, showing a rare trace of weariness.
'After you left, I was buried in paperwork every day, dealing with border conflicts and then managing food distribution, barely having a moment to speak with your sister-in-law.'
He scratched his chin, a complex look flashing in his eyes.
'Truthfully, when I first wanted to become the Wolf King, I just wanted to protect your sister-in-law and you, living a peaceful, stable life.
Who would have thought the territory would keep expanding, and matters would keep piling up...'
He paused, then, as if remembering something, looked at Gwof.
'That thing you once told me about—what was it, 'constitutional monarchy'? Said the king doesn't have to manage affairs, lets the people below make decisions?
That won't do. My kingdom, why should others dictate?'
His tail gave a sharp flick, carrying an air of unquestionable authority.
'But forming a cabinet and tossing all the miscellaneous tasks to them—that idea isn't bad.'
Big Brother Wolf's claws tapped lightly on the table, a calculating glint in his eyes.
'I'll hand all the troublesome stuff like taxes and people's livelihood to the cabinet. Let Old Rat and the others fuss over it however they want.
As for me, I'll keep a tight grip on the military. The airplanes, machine guns, missiles—all under my control. Anyone who dares disobey, I'll just send the army to crush them!'
At this point, he regained his triumphant demeanor, as if already seeing himself lounging with legs crossed, leisurely awaiting battle reports.
Watching the expressions on Big Brother Wolf's face shift from weariness to determination, then to unconcealed relief, Gwof suddenly smiled.
So no matter how many years passed, Big Brother Wolf was still that guy who wanted to protect those close to him yet couldn't be bothered with trivial matters.
'So it seems,'
Gwof picked up his wine glass and raised it towards Big Brother Wolf,
'I've returned just in time to witness you becoming a hands-off boss?'
Big Brother Wolf laughed heartily, his tail thumping against the chair seat.
'Been waiting for you to say that! Later, I'll have Old Rat arrange a position for you too. Otherwise, you're always running wild out there; as your big brother, I can't rest easy.'
The fireplace flames danced on their faces, warming this conversation that spanned the years.
Looking at Big Brother Wolf's triumphant appearance and listening to the familiar yet novel news from the kingdom, Gwof suddenly felt that perhaps this time, upon returning, he really didn't need to be in a hurry to leave again.