I drape a lazy arm over the back of the booth and turn to him, aiming for an outwardly casual appearance, but under the table my other hand curls around the hilt of my dagger. “Why, hello, good sir. Is there something I can help you with?”
He leans in until he’s almost nose-to-nose with me and growls, “What’re ya doin’ here with this bitch, drinking ale like ya ain’t just left the woods four wolves less than ya went in with?”
Ah. One of those types. Maybe he knew one of the wolves assigned to the mission with me yesterday. Or perhaps he’s just a sour drunk. Either way, I need to proceed with a modicum of caution, I suppose, to prevent him from causing a scene.
I choose my words carefully. “I am seeing to a guest in your town, one who was attacked by the panthers that plague your woods.”
He scoffs and shoots a glare at Sable. “She ain’t lookin’ too hurt for one who s’posedly been attacked.”
Ugh. His grammar is atrocious. “Your healers in the temple are quite skilled. Still, it was fortuitous of us to get to them when we did. Had we not, she—and many more wolves—would have met the same fate as the fallen.”
The man slams a fist onto the table. Sable jumps in her seat, but I remain calm.
“Ya think it’s okay to lose four wolves if’n ya don’t loseallof ‘em?”
Faster than he can blink his crusty lids, I whip out my dagger, placing the tip of blade under his chin. “Ithinkit’s about time for you to go home and dry out, sir, before another wolf winds up dead this day.”
Glassy blue eyes glare at me as his nostrils flare in anger. I don’t care. Let him rage at me. I meet him head on, glare for glare, never once flinching in his gaze. Finally, after an agonizingly long minute, he huffs his odious breath in my face and storms off to a table in the far corner, beefy hands clenched in fists at his sides.
“Are you okay, Cara?” Sable whispers, leaning across the table and patting my hand.
“Fine.” I realize my tone came out too sharp, so I try to soften my response with a smile. “Come on. Let’s go get you some new clothes. Fewer drunkards at the tailor’s, I imagine.”
We get up and head for the door, and on the way out I lock eyes with the drunken bastard, who glares daggers at us. Something needles at the back of my mind, but I can’t quite place the feeling. It’s gone before I have time to identify it, and I shrug it off.
Chapter 8
Sable
Cara is amazing. In addition to being strong and beautiful, she’s sweet, kind, and caring. She’s immensely patient. She’s …
… She’s a bit much.
I’m not used to all this. The attention, the pampering, the fawning. Word of my gifts has spread to the townsfolk, so everywhere we go, people stare. They stare, they whisper, and even a few have run over to supplicate themselves at our feet. Cara always graciously accepts their devotion while at the same time gently encouraging them to treat us like anyone else, but the wide-eyed wonder never leaves their faces. One little girl even stops us in the middle of the street to hand us each a bouquet of wildflowers. I take mine with a nod of thanks, but as I go to sniff them when she trots off, Cara chuckles and stops me.
“Careful,” she says, “these aren't flowers. They're local weeds. Dreamroot. Pretty enough, but if you stick your nose in there you’ll regret it. Poor girl probably is too young to know better.”
“Oh.” I lower my hands and look around for someplace to discreetly dispose of it. “Are they dangerous?”
Cara shakes her head. “As long as you don’t try to eat them, you’re fine. The pollen isn't poisonous to handle, but if you inhale it or ingest these—or eat anything before washing your hands—you’ll end up getting a free vision quest. Highly hallucinogenic to us wolves.”
Before I can process what she said, she reaches over and places her hand on mine. The weeds ignite in a burst of flame, and within seconds they're nothing more than ash.
“There. You’re safe now. Let’s go wash our hands.”
A thought occurs to me, and I race off after the little girl.
“Sable!” Cara’s voice follows me, but I don’t have time to explain. I chase the girl down an alley, across the next street, and up to the door of a small home. She slams the door behind her, and I pound on the oak.
My heart races as I wait for the girl to come back. Cara arrives before anyone answers the door, panting from the short run.
“Why in Sun’s Name are you running after her for? She probably didn’t mean to almost dose you.”
Just then a young woman opens the door, carrying an infant on her hip. “May I help you?”
Cara’s not the only one out of breath, and I struggle to get the words out. “Dreamroot … Your daughter …”
Realization flashes across Cara’s face, and she takes over. “Ma’am, you need to find your daughter. She gave us dreamroot bouquets, and if she’s anything like I was as a child, she likely hasn't washed her hands yet.”
