“That you’d never let me go.”
I pulled her closer, hand flat over the bandaged ankle. “I meant it.” My voice sounded like somebody else’s, rough and unsteady. “We’re in this together now, for as long as you can stand me.”
She laughed, exhausted, but the sound was honest. “Wolves are loyal,” she said, and then she fell asleep, as if it had been decided.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I forced myself to shift again, becoming the wolf. I moved closer to her, practically on top of her, the warmth of my fur drawing a sigh from her lips.
We were witch and wolf.
Scarlette
Iwas gathering deadfall by the sheepfold, hands numb and clean for once, when I heard his boots crunch behind me. He didn’t speak, just held out a bundle of split wood in one hand, the other reaching to steady my elbow. I ignored the touch, but not out of pride. It was simpler to pretend he was a ghost and I the last woman alive.
Back in the hut, we built the fire together, working in the practiced silence of people who have run out of things to fight about. The flames caught and grew, licking the soot-stained chimney and chasing the chill from the stones. I sat on the ground by the hearth, spreading my skirt to dry, while Moab rooted through the pack for the morning’s meal.
“Here,” he said, offering a strip of rabbit from last night’s kill. He tore it with his teeth, then handed me the larger half, a kind of ritual I recognized from the kitchen at home, where Agnes and I would divide everything, even the punishment.
I pulled the skin off, fingers slick with grease, and ate slowly, watching him. He chewed with the concentration of a man hiding from himself.
We said nothing until the last bone was stripped. I felt the need for words, some balm for the shared quiet, but they would not come. I stared at the hearth, at the way the logs blackened and shivered under their own heat.
He was the one who broke first. “You hungry for more?”
I shook my head. “Not for food.”
He grunted, a sound that might have meant anything.
I gathered my hair in both hands, twisted it up and away from my face. The ends crackled with static and something else. “Where did you learn to change like that?” I said, keeping my voice careful. “In my world, it’s a witch’s talent.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his eyes were on the flames. “No one taught me. It just happened. He shrugged, but his hands flexed on his knees, the veins standing out white against the skin. “Now, I use it when I need to.”
The memory of last night lingered, sharp as vinegar. I tried not to color it with shame. “You could have killed me,” I said.
He didn’t look up. “Didn’t want to.”
I laughed, then. I couldn’t help it. “You say that like it’s a favor.”
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Maybe it is.”
I let the moment stretch. The wind outside had settled, leaving only the soft complaint of the walls as they settled into themselves. I studied his profile, the way his jaw flexed when he was thinking, the scar by his eye, the animal patience in his every movement.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said.
“Neither are you,” he replied. “Not for a lady.”
I rolled my eyes, but it didn’t sting the way it should have. “I was never much good at being a lady. Ask anyone.”
He looked at me, then, really looked. “Why’d you run?” he said, voice quiet but rough around the edges. “Was it just Aldric?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. The truth sat on my tongue like a coin. “It was everything,” I said at last. “The walls. The rules. I don’t follow rules very well. The way they’d already decided who I was supposed to be.” I stared at my hands, the dirt ingrained in every line. “Aldric was just the last straw.”
Moab nodded, like he understood. “They do that. The men in charge.”
I thought of my father, of Sir Aldric, of every man who had ever spoken about me instead of to me. I made a noise in my throat, not quite a word.
The silence this time was easier. I pulled my knees to my chest, warming them over the fire. “So what are you?” I asked, the question spilling out before I could stop it. “You say you weren’t always this way. What were you before?”
He scratched his chin, thinking. “Trouble, mostly.”
