“If you’re not back by nightfall?” I asked.
He thought about it, then said, “If I’m not back, don’t wait.”
I nodded, heart thumping in my throat.
He crouched, running his hand over the ground, then straightened. He looked at me, as if searching for something, then turned and vanished into the trees.
I waited. The hours crept by, marked only by the slow movement of the sun and the growing ache in my ankle. I tried to keep warm, huddling under the fur, but the cold gnawed at me, relentless.
At some point, I drifted. I dreamed of the circle, of the oaks, of Moab standing at the center with the wolf’s head tattoo glowing on his arm. In the dream, he turned to me and smiled, his teeth too white, too sharp.
I woke to the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow. My heart leapt into my throat, and I reached for a stick, knowing it would do nothing.
But it was Moab. He was breathing hard, sweat slicking his forehead despite the cold. He carried a rabbit, limp in his hand, the blood staining his knuckles. There was a wildness in his eyes I had not seen before, a brightness that frightened and fascinated me in equal measure.
He tossed the rabbit down and crouched, knife already out. He skinned and cleaned it with a speed that was almost brutal, hands working with a precision that spoke of long practice.
“Time to eat,” he said, not looking at me. “Missing my grill right about now.”
“Grill?” I asked, and he smiled. He wanted to laugh but, like a gentleman, kept it to himself.
“It’s how we cook where I’m from.”
He added to the fire he’d built before leaving and then cooked the meat, the fat spitting and hissing. When it was finished, I tore at it with my teeth, not caring about the taste. I had never eaten anything so good, not even the cakes from the manor kitchens.
After, we sat in silence. Moab cleaned the blade he’d had hidden in his boot, the motions slow and deliberate. His hands shook, just a little.
“You’re not like other men,” I said, watching him.
He flinched, barely. “No.”
There was a question in the air, but I did not ask it. Instead, I said, “Thank you.”
He looked up, and for a moment, the wildness faded. “You’re welcome.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I dozed, waking to the sound of his pacing, the crunch of his boots in the snow. Once, I caught him staring at the fire, the muscles in his jaw working as if he were chewing through a problem he could not solve.
As dusk fell, the world grew colder. The trees pressed in, shadows lengthening. Moab grew restless, unable to sit or standfor more than a minute. He kept touching his arm, the one with the wolf tattoo, rubbing it as if it itched or burned.
When night came, the moon rose full and bright, turning the snow to silver. I watched him by the fire, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Suddenly, he stood, fists clenched at his sides.
“I have to go,” he said, voice strained.
“Go where?” I asked, panic rising in my chest.
He didn’t answer. He turned and bolted from the circle of firelight, vanishing into the trees.
I called after him, but the only answer was the echo of my own voice, and the far-off, lonely howl of something that was not quite human.
***
I stared into the dark, listening to the wild sounds of branches snapping, snow shrieking beneath something’s weight, the world itself flinching from whatever Moab had become. I could have stayed by the fire, could have told myself it was not my concern. But the memory of his face, something hungry, something lost, gnawed at me until the thought of waiting in the warm seemed a kind of cowardice.
I pulled the battered fur cloak from my shoulders, bundled it close around my body, and stepped into the cold. The moon was a day past full, riding high and mean in the clear sky, throwing a false daylight over the world. The woods looked like a graveyard, frost on every surface, the bones of trees pointing skyward, every shadow doubled and sharpened by the silver light.
Moab’s footprints were easy to follow, each one deep, the snow kicked aside with reckless force. He had not tried to hide his trail. I wondered if he even could, in this state.
