“It’s faster than walking.” She starts for Bardulf.
“Would you like to—uh—rideEvander, instead?” I fight laughter at the absurdity of the question. Must my mind really venture to the most inappropriate of places?
Aurora bites her lower lip, holding back a chuckle. She must’ve known where my thoughts wandered. “He wants you on him.” A snort escapes me. Her grin says the phrasing was on purpose. “Bardulf is fine with me. At least in this form they can’t speak.”
Bardulf’s lips peel away from his teeth in a snarl. But he doesn’t snap or change his form.
“Yes, that’s much improved, indeed.” I cross to Evander, who looks back at me from the corner of one large, silvery eye. I’m sure I’m imagining it…but I think I see amusement alight. I can’t stop a slight smile. Though the expression falls from my face the moment I look to the wide swath of fur before me.
The inky blackness of Evander’s coat mirrors a midnight sky on a moonless night—the same color as the wild tangles of his human hair. Unlike Bardulf’s pelt, not a single streak of gray mars its dark expanse. My hands hover over the glossy fur, vaguely aware of Evander still watching me intently.
The gentle tickle of his soft pelt greets my palms as I finally make contact. It gives way to firm, unyielding muscle beneath. His ribs expand with a deep inhale. For some reason, a smile tugs wider at the corners of my lips.
“Are you all right?” Aurora is already perched on Bardulf’s back, riding astride.
“Yes, sorry.” When Evander eases his stomach to the ground, I take a fistful of fur and swing up awkwardly, ending up flat on my belly. One leg doesn’t make it quite over. I shimmy, wriggling until it does and I’m astride as well. If I hurt Evander pulling on his fur to get into position, he makes no indication of it.
“You’ll get used to it,” Aurora manages to say through a giggle.
“I don’t have much experience riding anything.” I wriggle my hips, trying to settle into a comfortable position. It’s odd to feel a living, breathing creature underneath me. One that isn’t—now my cheeks are burning.
Luckily, Evander saves me from myself as he lurches forward and all I can do is hold on for dear life.
My hips are moving in one direction and my torso in an opposite one. I imagine I have all the grace of the fish I ate for breakfast after it was pulled ashore. When I try too hard to lean forward, I find I tip more side to side. Too far back and I’m off-balance constantly.
The world is a blur as I try to find the right combination of holding on tight enough that I don’t lose my grip, while also being loose enough to move with Evander. As the initial panic of being tossed off subsides, I begin to pay attention to the ripple of his muscles. The strength that courses through his firm body. How every shift betrays his next movement.
My fingers sink into the fur by his neck. It’s coarse and thick, giving me ample to hold onto. I begin to move my hips in time with what I predict his motions to be. One front foot before the other, back legs pulling in with almost a galloping motion, rear haunches rising and falling, one hip forward, then the next.
It’s somewhere between running and leaping. Every step is a half jump—a push and pull. Each muscle pushing to give forward momentum.
The tall grasses of the expansive plains blur into an undulating, emerald sea. As I gradually adapt to riding on wolf-back, my senses are no longer consumed by keeping myself astride and I can drink in the breathtaking beauty of this new land. The horizon stretches unbroken, a pale blue dawn in serene harmony with the streaks of green and yellow that rush past. The expansive panorama renders me small. With every heartbeat, I’m swallowed by the untamed and hazy landscape.
A smile splits my lips. The wind whips my rusty hair against my face, teasing it out of the thick braid I pulled it into yesterday morning. Dawn has come in earnest as the sun breaks the distant, still horizon behind us and casts everything in a brief but sweetly honeyed glow. Even as the sun rises, it doesn’t chase away the morning fog.
I unfurl one fist and shift my hold with the other. Tightening my legs to steady myself, I tip sideways and reach into the grasses, which are tall enough to brush Evander’s stomach. If I were to stand, they’d almost be up to my waist. The blades tangle with my fingers, kissing my palm. Magic surges up my arms.
“Spirits of fields?” I ask. The grass shrinks away and I grab nothing but air. “Of grasses?”
The whole meadow suddenly ripples out from us in rings, like a stone thrown into a still pond. Suddenly the blades of grass thread through my fingers once more.
“Grasses, then!”
“Are you making friends?” Aurora calls over.
“Perhaps? If they would like to be my friends?”
Another ripple is my reply.
“Lovely to meet you…”
“Farah!” Aurora answers for the grasses. “Their name is Farah.”
“Lovely to meet you, Farah!”
As if on command, the path ahead flattens. No longer does the flora smack at the faces of the wolves. Rather, the grasses and wildflowers weave themselves into a carpet that unfurls before us.
“They like you.” Aurora smiles in my direction, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
