I scream, squeezing my eyes shut as I shield my face.
And…the attack doesn’t come. The snarls continue, but they’re mingled with sounds of commotion. I dare to open my eyes and find a fourth wolf—just as enormous as the others but with snow-white fur—has tackled the shaggy brown and is locked in combat off to the side of the path. The two other wolves watch the battle, pacing anxiously, ears pressed close to their skulls.
This is my chance to flee.
I turn and take off toward the main road, but a flash of brown darts before me. Another wolf blocks my path, this one smaller than the others, but still just as angry, teeth bared as it closes in on me. Three more small wolves leap from the underbrush and onto the path. I whirl back around and find the fighting has cleared away from the trail and sounds of combat have died down. The three larger wolves remain, however, eyes locked on me as they too begin to approach.
No, not again.
An ear-shattering growl rips through the air, and I turn toward it. From behind the group of small wolves stands the white wolf, hackles raised. It lets out a booming bark, making me nearly jump out of my skin. But it isn’t barking at me. It’s barking at the other wolves.
The small ones are the first to flee, scurrying off the trail and out of sight. Another bark sends the large ones darting after them, tails between their legs.
The white wolf—a male—locks his gaze with mine, his eyes a startling shade of dark ruby. Then a voice reaches my ears, deep and gravelly. “It seems I have saved you.”
The wolf didn’t open his mouth to speak, but I know the words somehow came from him. I shudder with an inner chill. So,thismust be a fae wolf. “I…thank you,” I say through chattering teeth.
“Your gratitude is understandable,” he says, padding a few feet closer. The movement is less graceful than that of the other wolves, a slight hobble to his steps. “If the wolves had tried to eat you, you would not have survived.”
I have no doubts he’s right, but I can’t bring myself to speak. It’s taking everything in me to remain on my feet. He pads even closer, and I take a few stumbling steps away. The wolf fae may have saved me, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe.
The wolf speaks again. “Fae aren’t required to intervene where humans are concerned. Doing so can risk our lives.”
I nod, the motion jarring and shaky. “I understand what you’ve done for me, and I appreciate it,” I manage to bite out.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the wolf is now smiling. “Ah, yes. I have done a brave thing, have I not? So very brave and dangerous. You must be…overwhelmed with shock that you are still alive.”
Okay, what is he getting at? I narrow my eyes. “I am.”
“So overwhelmed. So grateful. You must be feeling like you owe me your life.”
My blood goes cold, his words chilling me. They reek far too much of the fae bargains I’ve heard about. The kind I thought were too fantastic to be real. Trying to recall everything I’ve heard in stories and legend, I choose my next words with care. “I feel like you’ve done a great kindness, sir…wolf.”
“Yes, such a great kindness. I wonder…does it make you want to repay me for my kindness? Of your own free will and volition, of course.” He says the last part in a rush.
I frown, taking a step away. “I must be going. I have an appointment at thirty-three Whitespruce Lane. I imagine it is just at the end of this path.” I point behind me, taking another step. Another.
The wolf lets out a grumbling sigh. “What a shame you must be going, for I would like to speak with you more.” His voice has raised far louder than necessary, tone dry, each word enunciated.
Before I can reply, the shaggy brown wolf from before leaps out of nowhere, charging straight for me. With a shout, I run, but again I’m saved by the white wolf. Rolling in a blur of snarls and teeth, they lock into battle, tumbling off the path and into the underbrush. I find myself alone on the trail; my moment for escape is now or never. But do I run toward thirty-three Whitespruce Lane, where—hopefully—shelter awaits? Or do I run to the main road and try to flee back to town before the wolves catch up with me? Both options pose risks I don’t have time to consider.
Everything in me shouts to go home, screw the interview and screw whatever maniac invited me here instead of holding the meeting in a safe place. I take off back the way I came, skidding through snow trampled by wolves, and veer onto the main path. I’m half running, half sliding, as I race down the incline. I must be halfway back to the main fork when an enormous white shape comes into view.
I pull to a halt, nearly losing my legs beneath me.
The white wolf limps across the road, head lowered, his tongue lolling from his mouth. His back end is covered in bright red blood. He moans, an agonized sound, as he takes three more steps and collapses on the ground. “Oh!” he cries. “Oh, the pain. The agony. Please, help me.”
Trembling head to toe, I approach the wolf. Part of me wants to skirt around him and claim my freedom, but when I see how much blood coats his back end, my heart softens. Besides, this isn’t just any wolf, this is a fae wolf. And there could be consequences for leaving a fae to die. With bated breath, I kneel at his side. I extend my hands toward him, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve hardly tended more than a scraped knee. What am I supposed to do with a wound this bad? And—oh, for the love of the saints—is his rear legmissing?
“Oh, the pain,” the wolf says. “You must be thinking how brave I am yet again. How I have saved your life twice now.”
It’s a strange thing to focus on when he’s clearly bleeding out, but I say, “Yes, again, I’m so grateful.”
“Seeing me in such a state…I’m sure your heart is…warm, yes? You must be feeling very much in debt to me now. Your gratitude swells so overwhelmingly large that you want to…sacrifice something? Your greatest treasure, perhaps?”
I ignore him and instead remove my coat, ready to try and staunch the bleeding from his back leg. But suspicion has me freezing in place. As I try to sort out where exactly to place my coat, I find no source of injury, no mangled flesh, no fresh oozing blood. I lean closer, and a familiar aroma tickles my senses. Is…is that…tomato sauce? I lean back and slowly rise to my feet.
“What are you doing? Can’t you see the condition I’m in?”
