Or probably ever will.
So when she sinks down next to me and hesitantly opens her arms, I crawl into them, the hard stone digging into my knees through my skirts.
"Safe," she murmurs.
Her paws rest lightly on my back as she strokes clumsily, her claws raising a thin trail of goosebumps down my spine. She's warm, and I sink my fingers into her fur to feel the silky softness. Her heart is smooth and steady under my ear. This is the safest I’ve felt in years, warm and safe in the arms of someone who cares for me.
At this moment, I don’t care if she’s a monster. I don’t care if she could rip me to shreds. She hasn’t and she won’t. She holds me as if I’m something to be kept safe, cherished, and—I swallow hard—loved.
Hot tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away, warmth clinging to my lashes as they dampen my cheekbones. I tighten my grip on her and she whines gently, nuzzling her huge headinto my hair; her arms tighten. There's a low rumble in her chest and for a terrible second I tense, terrified that I've offended her enough to make her growl at me. Then the sound deepens, vibrating through me, and I realize it's something more aiken to a cat's purr. She's still trying to comfort me however she can. The tears gather at the corners of my eyes in a fresh wave.
I'm not sure how long we stay like that, Gray cuddling me in her lap and doing her version of a purr to calm me down. A few times she tenses with a soft growl, head lifting from on top of mine to stare at the thick wood of the door, but she doesn't budge from her protective cradle around me. Whatever dangers are out there, they aren't close. And besides, I know she'll defend me if anyone were to approach. It's a strange feeling, this sense of safety, but not at all unwelcome.
Finally, Gray seems to deem it safe and reluctantly lets me go. Pins and needles rocket through my body as I stand. My legs and tailbone ache from sitting for so long, muscles creaking as I finally leave the safety of her arms; she whines softly.
Once again, I'm reminded of Gray, my Gray, the wolf and not the creature. And their similarities. Not just the obvious, of both of them being wolves with gray fur, hence the name. They also both have mismatched eyes, and they care about me, protect me. Could it be...
I shake my head slightly to free myself from the thought. As much sense as it makes in a strange sort of way, it isn't possible. The Gray I knew was a wolf, not this creature. She was clearly intelligent, but she couldn't speak.
And yet... something whispers to me. There were years between when I sent her away and when she came back, and it only now occurs to me that I never actually saw her when she came back. I heard her, sensed her presence, but I never saw her. The color of her gray fur is the same, the perfect shade of smoke and shadows, but more importantly it’s the mismatchedeyes. What are the odds of a gray wolf with mismatched eyes caring enough to save me, even if she doesn't walk on four legs any more, but two.
As impossible as it sounds... I think this creature who saved me is the wolf that cared for me.
I turn slowly to stare at Gray, my thoughts slowing as I finally line up all the pieces together and come to terms with my strange thoughts. The creature's ears perk and she straightens, her mismatched eyes lock onto me.
I swallow hard. I might be a fool, but if so, then she won't know what I'm talking about. If I'm right... then this could change everything.
"Gray? Is that… is that you?"
CHAPTER 11
Maris
The elders are right.I am a heathen.
Not for the reasons they think, to be clear. I am not a witch. I do not consort with the devil, and if I could curse anyone, I would have done so long ago.Oh, the curses I would have cast on people. They should count themselves lucky I’m not able to work magic.
With that being said… I am willing to concede that there are some strange things about me. Like my affection for the wolf monster, for instance.
To be clear, I am NOT lusting over the giant furry monster. I am, however, taking it into consideration. Who wouldn’t in my situation?
She is kind, and seems more than happy to provide me with anything I could ever desire, which is more than any human—man or woman—has ever offered me. She is happy to listen to me speak, never once interrupting, her ears always tipped toward me to show that I have her full attention. She’s strong, but she’s never made a move to hurt me, and always takes care not to injure me with her claws. She is also at least slightlyhuman under all that fur, or should I sayin it?. So while I may be slightly deviant, I am not bestial. Small mercies.
All that being said—should the wolf monster and I spend much more time together—sacrifices may have to be made. And I’m more than happy to make them.
“Come,” she says suddenly, and I choke on my water so hard I cough, then burp, cheeks flaming.
“I’m sorry?” My cheeks redden as I wipe the water from my bottom lip and neck where it trickled down.
If the wolf monster can read my thoughts, uncouth and otherwise, I am well and truly screwed. And not in the way I was just considering.
“Bed,” she says cheerfully. Her claws click on the stone floor as she pads across the cave, leading me toward a dark pile in the corner. A bed or nest of some sort, piled high with furs, scraps of cloth, anything soft.
It’s the same one I’ve been sleeping in, but this is the first time that she has ever laid next to me. In the past, it was always been at the foot of the bed. She crawls under one of the furs, then pokes her head back out to wait for me, ears pricked. It’s obscenely adorable, and my cheeks burn once more as I hesitantly rise and head toward her.
There’s only one bed… nest… thing. It’s completely fine for us to share. It doesn’t mean anything, even if my thoughts did stray into an area that would have gotten me burnt at the stake in my village. She doesn’t need to know that.
And besides, we’re heading into winter. She has fur; I do not. Without sharing body heat, I will likely freeze, and that will help no one.
