Tasia took a second to consider that. “Sounds reasonable. How do I do that?”
For the rest of the walk to Grandmother’s house, Mitch went over vulnerable spots on an assailant and how to inflict the most damage with the least effort. After the delivery, they paused for lunch in a small glade and he showed her how to break free from a couple holds. When she expressed frustration about her inability to escape, he compounded that grievance by telling her it would take practice.
He also made her practice retrieving and opening her small folding knife with one hand on the walk back. Quiet reigned for several minutes while she bent her entire focus to the task. It didn’t last.
“Do you like being a wolf?”
Not expecting the question, Mitch grunted, then fiddled with his jacket.
“I mean, when you are in your wolf shape, do you enjoy it?” she clarified.
“Well. Yes.”
Tasia didn’t respond, but he could feel her silent encouragement to continue.
He used his hand to tilt his chin from side to side, producing a couple pops from his neck. “The heightened senses are nice. And I like having the stamina and extra speed.”
“You keep your human brain and reason, right?”
“Yeah, how did you know?” Mitch looked back at her.
“It seemed obvious.” Tasia flicked her wrist as if dismissing his silly question. “I bet the fur coat is nice during the cold months.”
“It is.”
“Is there anything you don’t like about it?”
The question was innocent enough, but Mitch was beginning to feel exposed. He didn’t want to share his deepest, most complicated feelings, so he threw out a less consequential tidbit.
“My stomach can’t handle raw meat in either form. If I catch something, I have to transform to make a fire and cook it.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “That isn’t very convenient.”
He felt the irrational need to defend his wolf stomach. “I can still eat some of the vegetation, and none of the water sources I’ve tried have bothered me.”
“Well, that’s something. Oooh! I did it.”
When he turned to look at her, she was brandishing the tiny knife with one hand high in the air. Her triumphant smile warmed his heart, so he repeated his resolve to keep her at arm’s length.
“Good. Keep doing it until you can’t get it wrong. Then do it with the other hand.”
A less-than-thrilled wrinkle scrunched up her nose, but she nodded thoughtfully and replaced the knife in her pocket to try again.
If Tasia could learn how to defend herself, maybe Mitch would gain the peace of mind to keep her from invading his heart.
Chapter Eight
Which Is Finally Getting Somewhere
Tasia had taken Mitch’s advice and practiced flicking open her knife with great diligence. Her attempts had to be discreet around the Galanis family and Pagona’s friends, of course, but three days into the week, she was able to get the knife from closed-in-pocket to open-in-hand in a single, fluid motion.
It helped that she hadn’t needed to play tea hostess for the full week. The first of the torrential rainstorms common this time of year had kept Bunny and the others at their own homes for four days. Then the thick mud discouraged travel for a couple more. Stavros was part of the crew lining the pathways with fallen branches from the initial windstorm. The rough bark kept the round limbs from spinning in the mud for the most part, but walking was still tricky and wheels didn’t work well on them. Nor had the wood lining made it as far as the Galanis home by the time Tasia ventured out for her next delivery.
The mud was most treacherous on the frequently traveled paths. She had less difficulty navigating the area by the“apothecary” and when looping around the village to meet up with Mitch. This increased her hopes for a less arduous journey.
Mitch seemed to have pulled back into himself. He did offer a brief smile when she showed off her new trick, but he didn’t volunteer any conversation—which she had expected—and he returned to grunting answers to her questions—which she had not expected.
The mud wasn’t deep this far into the woods. It was, however, ridiculously sticky. Every step added to the layer of sludge on the bottom of her boots. Her increasingly heavy boots and stubbornly taciturn companion tired Tasia out by the troll boulder. She begged for a break, and Mitch obliged.
