He looks startled, like for the first time he is also realizing that he has absolutely no power over me.
Feeling somewhat smug, I leave him to stew with that, and go about gathering all of my untouched lunch and collected potion ingredients back into my basket.
I roll my eyes when I see that Eugene has made himself perfectly comfortable in the basket and is munching on a loaf of bread. Clearly, he had higher priorities than Fox and I. Well, I have higher priorities too.
Still, I’m tense as I collect my things. I keep assuming that Fox is going to grab my shoulder and spin me around, or say something, but he doesn’t. Finally, I can’t pretend to fumble with my basket anymore, and I glance back over my shoulder.
Fox is gone—sort of—instead the enormous white wolf is sitting quietly on top of my red cloak, patiently watching me. I reel back, startled.
“Can you understand me like that?” I ask tentatively.
The wolf rolls its eyes and makes a huffing sound which I take to mean:“Obviously.”
“Good. Well…” I trail off.
I have no idea what to say, partly because this strange encounter doesn’t make the conversation we had last night any less mortifying or make me forget that I told Fox without a shadow of a doubt that I wanted more from our arrangement and he didn’t feel the same way. The only way it could have been worse is if I actually blurted out that I love him, or something equally absurd.
Not that I am…in love with him, that is. Wanting more than a casual relationship isn’t the same as actual love, so it could have been worse.
Small mercies, I suppose.
“I changed my mind,” I mutter. “I’m glad I’m not telepathic.”
The wolf cocks its head at me, and I turn away. His familiar blue eyes are a little frightening.
I bend down to reach for my cloak and Fox walks backwards on four paws so I can pick it up and refasten it around my neck. I pull the hood up over my head and tuck my braid inside, then glance once more at the wolf. “Er…bye, then.”
The wolf whines, as I walk away, but I’ve barely gone twenty paces before I realize I’m being followed. I turn around. “Stop it! Go home, you can’t follow me.”
The wolf just stares at me, and I swear I can hear Fox’s mocking voice saying:“What are you going to do?”
It doesn’t fully hit me that Fox is planning to follow me all the way to Thermia until nightfall, when we have to check into an inn.
We walk for hours, crossing the border just after dusk. I’m starting to worry that I may have to camp outside when finally we reach a small village. “Village” might be an exaggeration, actually—there can’t be more than fifty people in the entire town, but at least they have an inn.
I walk down the tiny main street toward the inn and stop outside. Then I turn to the wolf, acknowledging him for the first time in hours. “You can’t come in here like that, I doubt anyone is going to believe that I’m traveling with a 250lb dog.”
The wolf whines, pawing the ground and shaking his head.
I frown, unmoved. “I have no idea what that means, but I’m going in to get something to eat. If I were you, I would go home.”
I only feel the tiniest bit of guilt when I step into the warm inn, letting the door slam on the wolf. I mean, on Fox.
“The wolf is not an animal that I need to save,” I mutter to Eugene, who is once again riding on my shoulder. “He’s not even a wolf. He’s a fully grown man who can take care of himself, and has chosen to stalk me all the way to another kingdom. I do not need to feel guilty about this.”
Eugene lifts his head in weary acknowledgement, then flops back down on my shoulder.
“I swear to any gods that are listening, if you turn out to be a shifter too I will let Alix’s cat eat you.”
He doesn’t react to that, which I take to be a good sign.
Keeping my head high, I approach the man behind the long bar and ask if they have any rooms available. He does, and I spend an uncomfortable night tossing and turning, my mind racing and unable to quiet.
I feel impossibly guilty that Fox is still outside, even though I assume he’s fine out there. It’s certainly cold out, but the wolf is about four times larger than an average wolf and with his thick white coat, looked as if he was born to live in the snow. Which, I suppose, he was.
More importantly, it’s not my responsibility what Fox does. He could freeze to death and it would be no one’s fault but his own.
Still, I barely get an hour of sleep for the second night in a row, so by the morning I’m tired and agitated. Sensing my mood,Eugene makes himself scarce, hiding deep in the bottom of my satchel.
