It only took about ten minutes of walking before Mitch heard the slight whimper he had been waiting for. Peering over his shoulder, he saw Tasia stepping ever so gingerly as she tried to prevent her wet socks and boots from rubbing her feet wrong.
“Shoes off,” he ordered.
Tasia frowned at him for just a moment, then plopped down in the middle of the leaf-strewn path to comply. He picked upher boots and held them upside-down to give them a good shake. Then he tucked them into her basket while she twisted water out of her socks. After she added them to the basket, he faced away from her and squatted down.
“Climb on.”
Her squeak of surprise made him smirk. “I can’t make you carry me!”
“You don’t have callouses. It will be much faster if we aren’t stopping to remove rocks and splinters from your feet over and over again.”
“Oh. That’s a good point.” She took a deep breath, then warned, “Here I come.”
Carrying Tasia was a simple task, strength-wise. At first, she gripped his shoulders with her hands and held her body as far from him as she could. Then she forgot whatever was inhibiting her and relaxed. The last quarter-hour of the trip was more difficult because she kept neglecting her position and leaning out to point at whatever tickled her fancy.
At the rendezvous spot, Tasia retrieved her basket with multiple expressions of gratitude. Mitch left her struggling into her wet footwear and made his escape. Being that close to her had done weird things to his emotions. He needed space to recenter himself.
The following week transpired much like the prior one had, with the addition of a nasty windstorm that prevented Pagona’s friends from descending on the Galanis household for two days. Stavros eschewed his usual duties in order to help the neighbors clean up the tree debris. No homes were damaged by the storm, but the walking paths and kitchen gardens sported broken branches, multitudinous twigs, and soggy leaves in abundance.
Even Pagona and Mother Anthi were pressed into service alongside Tasia. Chara made up stories with the sticks and pinecones she collected while her mother, sister, and cousin tidied the yard and garden. Stavros and the other men took on the biggest branches and left the raking to the womenfolk. Anthi liked to chat while she worked, and Tasia soaked in the conversation like a sponge. Talking at Mitch was better than nothing, but that only happened once a week, and she missed her female friends.
Pagona pitched in without complaint. Tasia wondered if her presence brought out the worst in the younger gal. Perhaps Pagona was a sweet-tempered young woman who was having trouble adjusting to her new reality. Then the roads were cleared, Mother Anthi departed again, and the girls resumed invading for tea. Pagona reverted to her usual behavior, and Tasia relinquished her hopes of forging a friendship anytime soon.
When rest day rolled around again, Tasia found herself looking forward to her walk through the woods. With Mitch. She continued to carry the small knife that Grandmother had provided, and yet she didn’t worry about needing it when she was with him. He could protect her from anything in the forest—up to, and possibly including, a bear or a harpy—and she felt a deep conviction that she was safe with him. Maybe the fact that he could turn into a wolf at will should have put her on guard, but in a land of harpies and other magical creatures, it didn’t seem that outlandish, even if she’d never heard of the condition before.
That morning, Tasia hesitated to don the red cape. Mitch looked like he had been punched in the gut when he saw her wearing it the first time. She didn’t want to step on his feelings, but it was also warmer than anything else she owned. Lady Saveria had packed some shawls and sweaters, so Tasia waspretty sure that the lack of thicker outdoor garb was a simple oversight. In the city, they spent the cooler months indoors as much as possible and included blankets and heated bricks in their carriages when they left home to attend parties.
Practicality eventually won over sensibility. She donned the cloak. And in the end, it didn’t seem to matter. Her tight-lipped companion didn’t acknowledge her appearance beyond a neutral grunt that she chose to interpret as a greeting.
Tasia had hoped that Mitch’s offer to carry her on his back last week meant that they had reached a new level of understanding. She didn’t think they would be the best of buddies yet, but she was disappointed when the scruffy man retreated into his shell more aggressively than before. He was quieter and grumpier than she had seen for a while. It reminded her of his demeanor at the harvest dance. Unsure what the best course of action was, Tasia erred on the side of caution and held her tongue.
Weak sunlight filtered through the branches arching over their path. The idyllic autumn days had grown significantly grayer in the last week. The rains hadn’t started in earnest yet, and Tasia had been delighted to see scattered bits of blue sky this morning. When the sun broke through the leaves, the woods responded by showing off their most brilliant hues. A great deal of that color now lined the ground after the windstorm. The partially naked trees were a stark reminder that harsher weather and cooler temperatures were en route. As were increasingly scant hours of daylight.
Not wanting to stare at her cranky protector’s back, Tasia had taken the lead. She was confident of their route past both the log bridge and the troll rock. Mitch didn’t correct her, so she pressed on after leaving the landmarks she was sure of behind. Well, if he couldn’t be bothered to keep them on track, it must not bother him to spend more time with her if they ended up detouring.
Something rustled in the undergrowth ahead to their left. Tasia’s breathing became tight as her whole body tensed. She hadn’t felt fear like this since she started traveling with Mitch. His current sullenness did not inspire a feeling of safety, and she couldn’t be confident that he would step in to save her from whatever lurked just out of sight. She slowed her steps and snuck a peek at the grump several steps behind her. He didn’t look happy to be there, and he didn’t spare a glance for the bushes that could be hiding a predator.
Shouldn’t a wolf-man be able to hear the movements of such a large creature? Tasia tucked a shaking hand into her pocket and seized the knife. Her fingers fumbled to unfold the blade, and she added a worry about slicing her own skin to her fears.
The terrifying beast snapped a twig, then began to emerge from the dying greenery. Tasia lost her composure. She dropped the basket and the knife, then jumped behind Mitch. When he began to vibrate, she told herself to let go of his vest so he could transform. Before she could release her death grip, she realized he was laughing.
The laughter shocked her out of the dread holding her captive. She peered around his bulk and spotted a mottled brown-and-white rabbit sitting in a tiny clearing next to the path. The creature looked generally harmless, if confused, as it eyed the human pair.
“Oh,” Tasia sighed. “It’s kind of cute.”
With effort, Mitch reined in his laughter. Daring to take her eyes off the potential-yet-adorable threat, Tasia glanced at her gruff protector. He had suppressed his mirth to the occasional chuckle, and she was mesmerized by the residual joy on his features. Underneath that hairy scowl was a pleasing face.
When he caught her looking, Mitch wiped a hand over his mouth, then sniffed.
“I guess bunnies aren’t that dangerous, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he corrected. “Never trust a bunny.”
Tasia peered at the bread loaf–sized critter, then squinted at him. “Why not?”
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “They have”—he used two of his fingers to make the shape of long teeth by his mouth—“fangs.”
She could feel her eyebrows climbing her forehead in disbelief. He nodded seriously, all mischief erased from his face.
