Precipitation still fell from the sky at all hours, but soon after the sun set, it came down as snow. Unfortunately for the bellyacher, the rain returned with the daylight and washed away any accumulation. The whole world was soggy and cold. Mitch’s wolf pelt was plenty warm while dry, but staying dry wasn’t entirely possible during his jaunts through the snowy nighttime village.
He currently lingered in his human shape behind a large tree near the back corner of the Galanis home, hunched within his thickest cloak. With a plot to enslave the whole village only weeks away, he and Tasia had decided that it was important to be in contact every day.
Because Tasia’s leash was much shorter than his, Mitch came to her. Barone had him stand outside the mayor’s offices a fewtimes a week looking tough, but Mitch wasn’t needed when Barone wasn’t at his desk, and the sloppy weather had cut those hours down even further. If it wasn’t for Tasia, Mitch would have skipped town weeks ago, guaranteed job or no.
“Psst, Mitch,” Tasia hissed in her not-so-subtle version of a stage whisper.
Surprised he hadn’t heard her coming, Mitch peered around the evergreen’s branches and saw that Tasia was half-hanging out of a window. She smiled broadly when she saw him, waved, then pulled herself inside and slid the sash back in place. A moment later, she slipped through the back door and made her way toward him through the slush. Unable to resist, Mitch tugged her out of sight as soon as she was within reach.
“Did you find anything?” Tasia asked, her eyes bright. “Or does the rain wash away the smells?”
“A little rain can heighten scents, actually. But yeah”—he glanced at the torrent of flowing water that used to be the path—“this much water tends to be too much. I mostly searched by eye last night.”
“Find anything?” She rubbed her arms under the red cloak that didn’t seem to be hiding enough layers of outerwear underneath.
Mitch gently moved her hands aside and took over the arm-rubbing process, quickly creating heat with the friction of his gloves on the cloak. “I found a barrel in a weird spot. It was filled with wood curls and tinder fungus, mostly.”
A cute little wrinkle creased her nose. “What’s tinder fungus?”
“There are a couple mushroom types that either catch fire really easily or burn very slowly on the inside, making it possible to carry an ember for a long time. They get lumped under the same name by those of us who don’t know their other names.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I dumped the contents in a convenient puddle and set it back up the way it was.”
“So no one will know the difference. Smart.” Tasia’s teeth were beginning to chatter, though she clenched them in an effort to hide her chilliness.
“Go back inside. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Mitch might have imagined that she was as reluctant to part as he was, but he helped her along with a gentle shove between her shoulder blades when she paused.
He kept his word and appeared in the backyard every day. Sometimes he told her about the various fire traps he’d found, and sometimes he just held up a number of fingers to indicate how many he’d dismantled. The times when Tasia couldn’t get past the window, he often caught a glimpse of a small, curly-haired creature clinging to her.
By the time the next rest day rolled around, the clouds had finally gotten tired of dumping liquid for weeks straight. They were blessed with an almost-dry day. Everything in the woods was still wet, but patches of cloud-free sky winked at them.
“Think you can start a fire today?” Tasia asked, peering up.
“If we hurry,” Mitch cautioned. “Here, hand me the leaves. I’ll dunk them in the stream. Have the kitchen towel ready.”
Wincing as the frigid trickle bit his hands, Mitch thoroughly soaked the filemu. Tasia held out the towel and, after some meticulous arranging, he was able to roll the towel and squeeze out most of the water. They left the filemu wrapped up and set off as fast as the treacherous ground would let them.
Halfway to their destination, Mitch shifted into his wolf form. The filemu scent was weakening, but they still needed to dry it. Not long after, they arrived in a small, open area that he thought would work. Transformed again, he set about gathering the materials he needed to make a small fire.
“How will it light when everything is so wet?” Tasia asked.
Mitch opened the satchel he had brought to show her the wood shavings and tinder fungus inside. “I realized we could use this to our advantage.” The small frying pan he had packed was barely visible under the rest. He carefully extracted it and handed it over. “Here. You can hold this while I make the fire.”
Tasia clapped her hands. “Oh! That’ll work.”
As he bent to his task, he could hear her muttering happy observations to herself about the heft of the pan. With the flammable items and his flint, he soon had a small but hot fire going. Satisfied that it would continue burning while he sought out more fuel, Mitch stood up without checking his surroundings.
A loud gasp and a thud had him spinning on his heel to face the threat. He could see nothing but Tasia staring at him with wide eyes and both hands over her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice harsh in his apprehension.
She pointed a shaky finger at the pan now lying on the forest floor. “I almost clocked you in the head with the frying pan,” she said in a horrified whisper. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mitch rubbed the back of his head and let out a bark of laughter. “That would have left a dent.”
