Page 29 of Untethering Dark

“I speak truthfully,” he insisted. “I can taste you in these, every emotion you’ve felt while making them is baked in, and I’m enjoying every single one.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, well, I...”

“What is your name?”

Twisting a strand of hair behind her ear, she stared back at him, a little bewildered. “Astrid.”

“You call me Altes Geweih, but how about my real name instead?”

Surprise brightened her eyes. “You want me to know your real name?”

“If we’re to get to know each other better.”

She nodded. “I think I’d like that. Gets rather lonely out here sometimes, doesn’t it?”

An understatement of the millennia. If anything sparked from this promise of companionship, there’d be no hibernating for him anytime soon. And that was quite all right. He could use the reprieve her company would bring, for however long that was.

His clawclinkedagainst the ceramic plate as he took another cookie, this one star shaped. “I am Gudariks. First and only of my kind.”

“So, I suppose this really means you’ve no intentions of eating me.”

“And bereave myself of your baking?” He popped the gingerbread star into his mouth. “I think not.”

If he had even the slightest inclination to eat her, they wouldn’t be chatting, and they certainly wouldn’t be exchanging names.

“I never expected to be on friendly terms with the creature my Hexe Mutter raised me to fear and respect.”

“You mean you don’t go baking cookies for all the monsters in the forest?” he teased.

“Ha! As if you haven’t scared them all away. But no, I haven’t made a habit of baking for the others. You’re the first.”

“I’m flattered. You’ve made them so pretty for me.”

A shy smile stole across her face. “I have other recipes, if you’d like to try more.”

“Only what you’re willing to make.” He spun one with a more intricate swirling design, admiring the careful hand that made it. “I require no more offerings from you.”

Straightening to full height, he hissed as he peeled his arms from the fencing.

The witch gasped, eyeing the burn marks running up and down his arms. “Scheiße! It’s burning you.” She began yanking the protective amulets from the fence and hurling them away, as good as inviting him back in. “Gudariks, why didn’t you say anything? I thought they didn’t affect you.” She set the plate of cookies on the ground and took his wrists, turning them over to inspect the wounds underneath. “I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I have some healing salve inside and...”

How charming it was that she was fussing over him, but it wasn’t necessary. “It’s fine, look.”

The wounds were already healing and closing.

“I should still bind it...”

“Astrid.” He gave her a pointed look, and the way she pouted in response was so endearing. “Stop fretting.”

She puffed out a breath, watching new skin form and fur over, still holding his wrists in her hands. His heart made a funny little leap at that. This was the first time she dared enough to touch him, and she chose to linger. How could something new feel so settled and right, like it was something they’d always done?

“All these years, I thought I was protected, but you could have broken in and devoured me at any time.” It was curiosity, not fear that prompted the comment.

While it was true, even in the grips of fierce territorialism, he recognized Astrid and her mother not as intruders, nor enemies, but as tenants. They paid respects, took care of the forest, and never questioned or challenged that this washisdomain. That’s all he ever wanted.

Humans once showed the same courtesies, some centuries ago, and they were eaten less back then. By him, at least.

“Why did you come before sunset the other night, Gudariks?”

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