Page 15 of To Ride the Wind

She turned back to throw a pleading look at the White Bear. It would be the perfect moment for him to say something.

He gave the same rumbling sound she had earlier determined to be his laugh. “It’s true I was raised to be polite in all circumstances,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of offering any of you violence.”

His eyes strayed toward her sisters, and for a fanciful moment Charlotte remembered his words in the forest and the moment when it had seemed he did want to threaten her sisters. But whether that desire had been real or imagined, he was firmly in control now, looking as civilized as it was possible for a bear to look.

“He…he spoke,” Odelia gasped, the words barely audible above the wind and rain.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Hadn’t she just told them that?

“You conversed with him this morning?” her father asked in a slow, halting manner.

Charlotte lowered her arms and angled herself so she could see both her father and the White Bear. Her father’s words didn’t sound aggressive, and he had relaxed his stance, but his tone still made her frown. It was almost as if he was more concerned by her earlier encounter with the creature than by the appearance of a talking bear in the first place. Did he think she had been in danger? Surely her father must see the bear was a creature from the Palace of Light and therefore not a danger to her.

“I came to speak with you, sir.” The bear was looking at her father. “Perhaps you might step outside so we can converse in private?” He glanced once more at the women by the table.

Charlotte squashed down a ridiculous feeling of hurt that he wished to exclude her from the conversation. It was foolish of her since the bear had already had the chance to ask her questions. Why would he wish to talk to her again?

“Outside?” Her father raised an eyebrow as he looked at the sheets of rain and the darkness beyond the house.

The bear grimaced. “Perhaps I do not have the best timing. I spent the day searching the forest for you but failed to locate you before the weather changed. Once the storm hit in earnest, I realized you would have returned here. Waiting for tomorrow might be more sensible, but I confess to a strong degree of impatience.” He looked once at Charlotte, his gaze fleeting, but somehow the glance soothed her earlier hurt, although she couldn’t explain why.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you waiting,” her father said respectfully, bowing his head briefly.

Charlotte expelled a breath of relief, glad her father had grasped the nature of their visitor after all. She would hate for her family to cause him any more offense than they must have already done.

“Wait!” her mother cried softly as her father stepped toward the open doorway.

He paused and glanced back at her.

“I must go, my dear. Surely you see that.” He spoke only just loud enough to be heard over the storm. “We have no choice. But I believe all may still be well.”

Her mother wrung her hands together before nodding reluctantly.

Charlotte frowned. There had been something strange in her father’s manner since the first mention of the bear, and she now couldn’t escape the certainty that whatever her father knew was also known to her mother. What secrets were they keeping?

She stood in place as her father took a waterproof wrap from a hook and swathed himself in it. Only once he had stepped outside and closed the door firmly behind him did she move.

Racing forward, she placed her ear against the door. But there was no use in attempting to overhear the conversation. The noise of the storm was too great to allow any other sounds to permeate the solid wood.

Rushing over to her mother instead, she gripped her arm, ignoring her sisters who both appeared to be in too much shock to speak.

“Who is the bear?” Charlotte asked in an urgent voice. “Why has he come here?”

“I have no idea,” her mother said in such bewilderment that she couldn’t doubt her. “I never dreamed such a thing would happen.”

“Who would?” Elizabeth finally managed to say. “It’s a talking bear!”

“Daisy used to tell stories about a talking cat,” Charlotte said. “And our cousins were telling us only recently about a talking horse. Is a bear so different?”

“Horses and cats don’t eat people,” Odelia said firmly, and Charlotte had to admit she had a point. There was no denying it would create a very different impression to meet a talking cat.

The thought only made her feel sympathy for the White Bear. How often was he met with distrust and fear just because of his form? It wasn’t as if he was an ordinary bear who might attack a human.

The door swung abruptly open, and all four of them jumped. But it was only their father striding inside, shaking off water like a dog. Their mother raced to him, her eyes roaming over his body, as if checking for signs of injury.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

Her father hesitated and then shook his head. “Not yet.”

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