The neon green kitten-like creature sheathed its claws, hiding them somewhere, which had to be magic. It bounced on all four paws on his shoulder, leaped to the ground, and bounded across the lawn, its nose down and tail up. From this angle, it looked sorta like a ferret.
“Hoss, you got some strange companions.”
“If it isn’t a were-creature we’re after, why is it sticking around?” Liz asked. When Eli didn’t answer, she said, “Brute?”
The wolf chuffed. The sound was different from his usual chuff, almost as if he was as confused as Eli was. The wolf trotted after the grindylow. Together they stood at the edge of the grass, where the lawn met the tree line, noses to the ground. In the FLIR ocular, the grindy jumped onto the werewolf’s back and the wolf trotted into the woods.
“I guess there’s five of us,” Liz said. “I wonder how much the grindylow expects to be paid.” She positioned her pack, gripped her walking stick, and followed. Ruminatively, she said, “I figure the grindy wasn’t invited, so it doesn’t get paid except in food.” She walked into the dark under the trees, her walking stick glowing like a Star Wars light saber.
Eli grinned, his reaction hidden in the dark.
“Like I said, Hoss. You got some strange companions. But your lady, I like her.” His voice took on a gravely note. “I suggest you do right by her.”
Chewy followed Liz, leaving Eli to cover their six and ponder over his friend’s warning.
Liz
Before Cia leftshe had given Liz a present, a working that coated her walking stick and caused the wood to shine like neon. It gave off just enough light to see several paces in front, but didn’t mess up her night vision as badly as a flashlight. She was able to step over roots and rocks, around trees, and under branches without tripping or putting an eye out in the dark. The working also turned the wolf’s fur green and the grindy nearly black, and made her slacks glow a weird olive color.
Cia claimed she had made it from the glow of the full moon itself, but Cia was also apt to take liberties when it came to gifts and workings. Similar to the liberty of giving away houses, so she could marry the love of her life.
Liz had a house.
All her own.
That was … weird.
Maybe even more weird than following a werewolf and a grindylow up a mountain, on what looked like a goat trail, before dawn, to hunt down a rabid shapeshifter from legend. Or maybe not. The grindylow’s presence cast doubts on that probability. Liz pulled on her gloves, checked to see if the stone she had embedded in the walking stick was still full of power, and started up the hill, her stick glowing like a wizard’s staff in a fantasy movie, in the lead.
Well, not exactly. After the werewolf and his passenger.
Liz
The path wassteep and Liz was breathing deep but not hard or fast or in pain. She was getting better, she thought, as she grabbed a rough tree trunk and pulled herself up and over and hard to the left. And stopped dead.
A yard in front of her, the wolf leaped high, landing a good two feet above her head; her eyes followed the movement and the height and she knew there was no way she could follow. The path was totally blocked by a wall of rock in front of them: a stone wall to their left and front. To their right was an east-facing vista that revealed the coming sunrise and a drop almost straight down for… too freaking-many-hundred feet.
Liz sat, pulled off her pack, and opened a thermos and a high-protein energy bar for breakfast. Chewy dropped his pack, stretched beside her and began to pull out his own breakfast. Eli didn’t even pause, just set her stone pack beside her, climbed a tree, and followed the wolf.
“Hoss’ll be back in a bit,” Chewy said after a while, laying back on his pack and crossing his feet.
“Mmmm.” They watched, silent, as the sky lightened and turned golden, though the orb of the sun was still below the horizon. “Gonna be a nice sunrise,” she said after a while.
“Better than being shot at on some desert mountaintop in fucking Afghanistan. Begging your pardon, ma’am.”
“No pardon necessary. I’m grateful for your service,” Liz said, nibbling her energy breakfast bar and sipping her highly caffeinated tea.
There was no sound of traffic. No sound of planes overhead. Morning birds started calling into the silence. The sky lightened into golds and peaches and shrimps and purples as they waited.
Chewy ate several sticks of jerky, his hand waggling up and down, the gesture necessary to bite-tear-rip through the tough dried meat clenched in his teeth. It was a signature jerky-eating maneuver.
“You like venison jerky?” he asked after a while. Chewy opened another paper bag and extended three strips of dried meat, holding them by the paper. “I make my own.”
Hikers used paper for everything they could, so they could burn their biodegradable trash as part of starting a fire at night. Liz approved. She took a slice and handed him an energy bar, also wrapped in paper. “It’s from Seven Sassy Sisters. Our restaurant. My sister Molly makes them.”
“Sure.” He ate it in two bites. “Tasty,” he said, as she bit down on the jerky and began the up and down hand waggling.
“So is this,” she said around the meat. “I like the rosemary flavoring.” And it was true. The deer jerky was delicious.
