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Aware of the danger that even an injured beast still poses, I navigate around an oak tree wider than my spread arms and gasp in surprise.
An adult dire wolf struggles against the trap caught around his left front paw, metal teeth digging into vulnerable flesh. On all fours, his head easily reaches my chest. His paws are the size of dinner plates, and his claws match Agnar’s dagger in length. His fur is a mottled dark brown, black, and gray to camouflage him within the forest, and a distinct set of three stacked Vs marks the crown of his head. Blood mats the dire wolf’s fur, and as he smells us, he snarls and bares his teeth. He’s one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen, and I clasp my hands to my chest in awe, tears springing to my eyes. I want to sink my hands into his thick fur, certain it’s soft as a cloud. His hurt penetrates my mind, as well as his overwhelming sense of terror at being trapped. I feel the urge to gnaw off my own foot for freedom, and I take a deep breath to separate the wolf’s emotions from my own.
I know with every fiber of my soul that I have to help the dire wolf. I put my hands in the air and lower my center of gravity to make myself less of a threat.
“Esme, no,” Agnar barks from behind me. “That thing will rip your face off.”
“Hush.” Unlike Agnar, I channel serenity. “I can do this. I just need you to stay calm.”
Doing my best to calm myself, I reach out to the dire wolf with the Lulling, brushing his mind gently, promising I mean no harm and only want to assist him.
The dire wolf whimpers, tugging at the trap.
Step-by-step, I approach, pushing my sense of serenity on the dire wolf all the while. He allows my advance, bowing his head and licking the metal trap in desperation.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’m going to get you out. You’re going to be fine.”
When I kneel in front of the dire wolf, ignoring the nearby teeth that Agnar fears will rip my throat out, my companion grumbles in protest. Anxiety pulses through the peaceful center I’ve attempted to create, but the dire wolf only noses the trap in silent question. Up close, the wolf smells of old meat and musky fur.
“Let’s get this off you, okay?” I explore the trap with a delicate touch. Thankfully, I can open it by pulling a pin rather than relying on brute force. Metal squeals against metal as I release the pin, and the trap springs open with a crack, liberating the dire wolf’s paw.
I tense, preparing in case the wolf turns on me. Instead, he studies me with sharp yellow eyes set against dark gray fur. We watch each other for a long moment before the dire wolf bobs forward and licks my face from chin to forehead.
I laugh as I fall back, covered in slobber, the wolf panting as he noses me. His breath stinks of carrion, but I’m too buoyed with pleasure over successfully freeing him to mind the stench. He’s my first success since leaving home to track down the Everhand.
Gratitude radiates off the dire wolf even as he limps on his wounded paw. When I show my hands, the dire wolf cocks his head to the side, then offers his paw in return.
Clearing my mind, I run my palms over the injured flesh, calling upon the same energy I used to attempt to heal the alicorn, hoping it works this time. Golden light spools from my hands, and the dire wolf’s flesh knits back together, leaving behind a twisted scar and blood-matted fur.
The dire wolf licks my face again and chuffs happily. He wants to offer me aid.
I purse my lips. Maybe the dire wolf can assist me in finally gaining the advantage with Agnar so I can lead him to Veradin’s sanctuary rather than wherever my abductor’s heading.
“You want to help?” I pitch my voice low so Agnar can’t overhear. “Then threaten him into submission.”
This would be easier if I could hate Agnar. Blame everything since our initial meeting at the tavern on him.
But I can’t lie to myself that well. Wardens are supposed to deal with reality.
Right now, reality is cold, lonely, and confusing. I don’t like it. I want to work with Agnar, but neither of us fully trusts the other one yet, so we continue to cautiously dance around each other.
The dire wolf skirts past me, a snarl returning to his muzzle as he stalks toward Agnar. I rise as well and turn to watch, keeping my expression impassive as Agnar’s eyes widen and he begins drawing his weapon.
“I wouldn’t. No matter how fast you are, dire wolves are faster.”
To prove my point, the dire wolf lunges forward before Agnar can finish unsheathing his sword. The dire wolf snaps his teeth right at Agnar’s crotch, and Agnar freezes, his eyes sliding between the wolf and me. His terrified expression, all bug-eyed and splotchy cheeked, almost prompts a giggle. Finally, I’ve discovered something Agnar is scared of.
Of course, the thing he fears most involves his dick. He’s such a typical man.
“What the hells is this?” Agnar doesn’t release his sword, but he doesn’t draw it either, not with a dire wolf’s teeth pointed right at his vulnerable bits.
“A change in management.” I stride toward Agnar. As of right now, I’m in charge, which means I can pick up my things and walk away. But Agnar’s repeated accusations over the last few days keep coming back to me.
The way he didn’t believe I was in Edgehallow that night to get the Everhand. The fact that Rook got involved in whatever business he had in the room that night. If Agnar were normal the way he pretends, he would have accepted my explanation, the same way he’d have known about the Withering and the Hushing Sickness and the Wardens, and he would have moved on.
But aside from his fear of getting his dick bitten off, Agnar is less a man and more the embodiment of violence cloaked in human skin. He answers problems with a sword. He destroys hillsides like it’s nothing. I have to remember he doesn’t think or react like a typical man, no matter how he sometimes smiles at me.
Even though the idea of dragging him along hurts my stomach because he’ll slow me down, I can’t let him go. I need to decide what to do, and I must do it now. Rook and the Everhand are slipping further and further away, and people are dying because of it.
