Finally, he slows to a jog and then eventually a walk, and without the sharp wind, I sit up. The sight ahead—the camp—is nothing like I imagined. It’s split into two, with one side involving a variety of different sized cabins and the other being a large circle of smaller cabins that fence a fire pit in the centre.
People—shifters—mingle between the buildings, watching our arrival. There’s only a small handful, given it’s getting late, which makes me wonder how many of them there actually are.
Ryder’s shoulders shift, one lifting higher than the other. Assuming he wants me off, I swing my leg over and shimmy to the ground, fixing my clothing to cover my legs. This cloak, ceremonial in purpose, has now become my armour.
My head turns away from the camp, though it has me curious more than anything else. Having no sense of direction at all, I couldn’t even begin to guess which way the town is.
Ryder eyes me for a moment before jogging into the camp and entering a cabin at the side parallel to us. He leaves me alone with two others lingering nearby, neither of whom look my way.
A test?
Not even a minute later, he returns in human form, a pair of sweats handing low on his hips. His muscles almost glow in the moonlight, and if I had any thought of escaping, it’s destroyed by smooth skin and rippling abs.
A hot body distracts me. Well, I’m certainly surviving, that’s for sure.
“Not even an attempt to escape.” His mouth twists into an almost-smirk.
“Will I want to?” He remains annoyingly silent, which spikes my anxiety. “There’s no point, considering you’d catch me almost immediately. Getting hunted in the woods isn’t exactly on my plans.”
Ryder simply stares before beckoning me forward, only to grab my arm as he steers me into camp. His hold isn’t rough, just firm, but his fingers against my skin makes an unexplainable heat build in the base of my stomach.
Hecate, make this make sense, please.
His steps are annoyingly quick as he drags me from one end of the camp to the other, passing an extinguished fire, the pit filled with small logs that are half-charred.
So…no kitchens?
“You could slow down.”
No response, which I’m getting the sense is normal Ryder behaviour.
“Why didn’t you use earlier today to the pack’s advantage?” It’s probably not the most pressing of my questions—or matters in any way, at this point—but it’s driving me insane.
He stops beside the same cabin he entered earlier. The limited light comes from the moon above, falling on the exact strip we’re on. In the darkness, his eyes continue to swing between black and silver in an ethereal manner, reminding me he’s anything but human.
“Contrary to what you so clearly assume, we don’t want war, nor do we have a problem with your coven. If I brought today up, the others would expect me to make a point about territorial boundaries. If you’re smart, you’ll keep this between us. If you haven’t already noticed, we lead simple lives. Fighting undoes that. Lives will be lost over something as stupid as you taking trips around the mountain.”
Oh.He’s right about my assumptions. Mom always made them seem aggressive. Attack first, ask questions later kind of people. She claims their behaviours are too erratic to remain controlled. Ryder’s now proven otherwise a few times today.
When I don’t reply, he twists for the cabin and pushes open the door. “In you go,kamahki.”
“What doesthatmean?” At this point, I’d prefer he return to calling me ‘princess,’ because at least it’s something I understand.
He merely gestures to the open doorway and continues pointing until I ascend the two wooden steps and into thedarkened space. He follows, the sound of his quiet steps broken only by the crackling of a fireplace that’s built into the far wall. That, coupled with the old-fashioned fire-lit lantern resting on a table beside the door, casts a soft glow that lights up the rest of the space.
Walls are built with the same wood logs as the exterior, the chill of the outdoors slipping between the cracks. Even so, it doesn’tsmellcold. Rather, it’s burning wood mixed with…well,him.
The cabin is one open room. Beams run above head to keep the roof up, reminding me of the chalets inside Banff has that are purposely designed to appear rustic. The fireplace to my right is surrounded by two oversized chairs and a small table. All of it makes me curious about their origins, since furniture shopping seems low on the pack’s priorities. A wooden chest that’d be nearly hip height sits nearby, shut, and is the most personalized item in the room.
The far-left corner draws my attention, a mound of furs all piled onto one another, creating what appears to be an oversized beanbag chair. But one guess tells me it’s simply the shape. There’s a distinct dip in the centre and as Ryder comes up beside me, the memory of his wolf flashing through my head, I realize what exactly this is.
“That’s a…bed?” Is bed even the right word?
He grunts, which I take as a yes.
“Where’s your bathroom?” There’s no other door, no cut out indicating there’s more to this place—and my bladder is beginning to burn with the need for one.
He throws me a side-eyed glance, amused, showing some sign of humanity beneath his tough exterior.
