The Youngest Son Of Bébinn

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

While Maryann had frequently wondered about her husband’s oddities, until that night she’d never imagined…
After all, he’d always seemed a fine catch. The best huntsman in the whole region. Quiet, and standoffish, but she’d still been pleased when her father arranged the match. Even with having to move out to the middle of the forest. At least her husband already had a fine little house for them, cosy and well furnished.
With two bedrooms. He insisted on having his own place to sleep. Which struck her as odd, particularly since he told her to never try and enter his room, and what with him going to bed early and rising with the sun this meant they didn’t have much time together.
Still, what time they did share was pleasant, and she was well provided for, and told herself she was a very lucky woman. And usually believed it. So she kept the house well, and planted a garden, and took up pressing flowers to pass the time, and wished they had a single neighbour close enough to visit.
But it never occurred to her to disregard her husband’s wishes and look in that secret room.
Not until that night, when she woke coughing, the air thick with smoke, and stumbled out of her bedroom to find the house on fire! Of course she pounded on her husband’s door. And, on hearing no response and fearing the worst, she snatched up the axe from its pegs and smashed through the wood in a frenzy.
And found an empty room. Not merely one without her husband, but entirely bare of furnishings. As if it hadn’t been used since the house was built. And, on the far wall, the window whose shutter was always securely shut hung open.
Now dizzy from exertion and foul air, she staggered across and hauled herself over the sill, and managed to get almost to the tree-line before collapsing. The last thing she saw before passing out, an image which burned itself into her mind, was a white wolf staring down at her.
She woke in her family’s home, dazed and with an aching chest. She was told that her husband had brought her there this morning, and told her family about the fire, and asked them to take care of her for him. Of course they agreed! And had been worried about him besides, but he assured them he had gotten off much lighter than her.
So her mother nursed her tenderly, and they waited for her husband to return.
On the third day, her father decided that, no matter what her husband had said, the poor man clearly needed help sorting everything out. So he gathered up a few friends, and their tools, and they headed into the forest.
And returned not four hours later to gravely announce that the little house still lay in ruins, and there was no sign of her husband at all.
She couldn’t believe it. And felt recovered enough to sit in the cart and be taken there. It was a sorry sight indeed, her home reduced to a few charred walls and her belongings ashes, and she didn’t hide her tears. At least some of which were worry.
What to do?
She waited a week. Two weeks. But her husband did not return, nor send word, and nobody had seen him since he bid her family farewell.
With her body having recovered and her mind wracked with fears, she packed a bag and headed into the forest. Firmly refusing to let anyone accompany her. For that empty room, and her husband’s absence every night, and that white wolf which had suddenly appeared and showed such concern…
So she headed deep into the forest, where only animals usually trod. Singing as she went, a plea to the wind and whoever it might touch.
“Arwyn, sweet Arwyn, has anyone seen my husband?
No matter how far, whether two feet or four, I must find him.”
As night fell a white crow alighted on a nearby branch and listened intently to her song. Then it fluttered away. She tried to follow, but it was gone too quick. All she could do was press on.
Until the crow returned, landing closer, and dropped something. A tuft of white fur. Its scent, though beastly, had a dearly familiar aspect.
“Where is he?”
This time the crow only fluttered a short distance. Letting her follow. It led her through the dark forest to a cave, and when she peeped in she saw a wizened old woman with iron teeth spinning by a fire, and curled up on the other side… the white wolf.
The crow gestured with its head, seemingly telling Maryann to stay put, then strutted into the cave and pecked at the wolf’s tail. It barely twitched.
“Leave your brother be.” The woman scolded. “He’s moping enough as it is.”
The crow flapped its wings and gave an impatient caw.
“Yes, I know. Especially since he admits it’s his own fault. Typical. Only one of you to find a good, incurious spouse, and he went and didn’t bank the fire properly before gadding about.”
Maryann blinked and bit her lip. Ah. Yes. She’d gone to bed before him, that night.
The wolf rolled to face away from the pair and let out a reproachful, sorrowful whine. The woman tsked. The crow made a similar noise, then tilted its head and cawed.
“No, the only magic which can help a broken heart is taking the memories. And he wouldn’t even consider it.”
The wolf growled agreement.
“See?” The woman rolled her eyes. “We will just have to hope he gets over it soon.”
The crow shook its head and strutted back out to Maryann. It gazed up at her in a pointed, hopeful fashion.
She reached into her bag. Pressing flowers had calmed her nerves, this past fortnight - and given her excuses to wander the edge of the forest, gathering the wild blossoms Arwyn always brought her and hoping he would hear her singing. She wrapped the little bouquet in her favourite ribbon and a lock of her hair.
The crow accepted this loving token, its eyes glinting, and trotted back inside. But it merely sat, holding the flowers and watching the wolf.
Sniffing broke the silence. The wolf lifted his head, nostrils flaring, and on seeing what the crow bore he leapt up with a sharp bark. At once lively, almost frantic, as he snuffled the flowers the crow had dropped to gleefully laugh.
“Oho!” The woman peered at the entrance, and Maryann entered to kneel and hug her husband.
He had to wait until morning to properly apologise, of course. But the way he stared up at her and whimpered and licked her hands was clear enough.
Maryann spent the time getting to know her mother-in-law. Who turned out to be very personable, for a witch. “Lovely to meet you at last. Arwyn does go on about you. Want some pottage?”
Apparently Bébinn (“But feel free to call me Venny, you’re family after all”) had seven children, and each one turned into a different animal at night! (“I blame their father. No, really! I suppose that’s what I get for gifting him a human form…”) Naturally this made courting awkward, and most of them had been found out quite quickly.
Though Maryann didn’t ask, given how Bébinn approvingly told her “You’ve taken this very well”, she suspected Arwyn had good reason to assume the marriage was off on her learning the truth.
Once morning broke and Arwyn’s fur fell off and melted into nothing, revealing his human form, he caught Maryann’s hands and kissed her cheek and earnestly apologised, over and over, for running off as he had. And for forgetting to bank the fire properly. Which, by this point, she considered a fortunate (though at the time frightening) accident.
She hugged him tight and assured him all was forgiven, so long as he came home with her. At which Bébinn handed over the little wicker house she’d woven while they passed the night, and told Maryann to “throw it into the remains of the last one”.
And the crow-turned-woman, whose name Maryann had learned was Gwen, gave Maryann a cloak woven from snow-white feathers and told her “Put it on and tell it where in the forest you wish to be, and it will take you there”.
“And always consider yourself welcome.” Bébinn added. “It’s lovely to have company.”
Maryann thanked them both and took Arwyn’s hand and whispered to the cloak “Take us home.”
A spiral of wind made her blink, eyes watering, and when her vision cleared there they were, in the familiar clearing with the sorry remnants of their house.
So she threw the wicker model into the midst of the ruins and gasped as it burst and wood grew outwards, planks spreading and expanding like living branches, until the house stood in front of them, exactly like she’d first seen it on their wedding night. Right down to the furnishings.
They told her family that Arwyn had travelled to ask his family to help with fixing the house (which was almost true), and that was why he’d been gone so long. And on seeing the house was indeed fixed, and Maryann was happy, and Arwyn was contrite, her family were satisfied, and soon enough the matter was forgotten.
But now the room which had been empty and always shut held odds and ends - and Maryann’s flower collection. For they only needed the one bedroom. And, while Arwyn still often went out wandering at night, he always made sure the fire was safely banked first!
It did take getting used to, the way he would suddenly sneeze and fur would burst out all over him, leaving him a wolf. However, he was so clearly him no matter which form that it was never frightening.
Nor was it lonely anymore, for Gwen visited often, and was marvellous company. Sometimes bringing one of the other five siblings, each of whom was quite a character! But most were lovely.
And the feathered cloak’s magic remained, letting Maryann visit her family whenever she wished - or Arwyn’s, for Bébinn did always seem happy to see her daughter-in-law, particularly bearing goodies from the garden. A relationship Maryann felt it wise to cultivate. If nothing else, she hoped the witch would have advice for raising grandpuppies…

Prompt was “One day your protagonist discovers their partner's bedroom is completely empty, with no signs of it ever being used…”