Page 102 of White Wolf

She felt the weight of unsaid things settle across her shoulders. But the words were muddied in her head. She had the sense of regret, and wanting more, the feeling that a window was closing. But she couldn’t shape the question properly. What did she want from him? A frantic, sweaty coupling on the pine needles? One sweet, lingering kiss? Or maybe the assurance that he would miss her. Maybe it was as simple as that – wanting to feel wanted.

Nikita said, “Will you be glad to rejoin the Army?”

She tried and failed to suppress a small, surprised sound. An unexpected twinge flared between her ribs. She didn’t want to leave them, she realized, this misfit band of pretenders with their wolf-boy. “Well,” she said, intelligently, stalling. “I’m…I’m a soldier, right? I don’t think ‘glad’ comes into it.”

“Oh. Right.”

“But I don’t think that I will. I’ll have to see what my assignment is.”

“Of course.”

Night sounds rushed to fill the silence between them: the murmur of conversation by the fire, the droning of flies and the first few mosquitos of the season, swish of newborn leaves rustling against their branches in the wind.

In a guarded voice, Nikita said, “The old man has sway. The generals believe he really can save the Soviet Union. So whatever he wants, he gets. If he was to – if I suggested–” There was just enough light to read his uncertain expression. “You could be assigned with us, if you wanted,” he said, quickly, half-stumbling over the words, like he was afraid if he didn’t say it now he’d lose the courage. “If you want to go with us to Petersburg, be our sniper, we could make it so.”

Her heart leapt.Didshe want that?

“But I understand if your patriotism makes that impossible,” he added, voice small, now uncertain.

Her stomach clenched with a kind of anticipation she hadn’t felt since she was a girl. Joining the war effort had been the right thing to do, the responsible thing. The only way to seek justice for her family. But now – to her shame – she felt a child’s excitement over the prospect of an adventure. One with a real wizard, even! Of sorts.

As soon as the idea had occurred, she dashed it. How could she think such a thing after what had happened? While they were in the middle of a war? How could she?

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked back the burn. “I’m not.” She sounded choked and had to clear her throat and start again. “I’m not as patriotic as I maybe thought.” Not iftreasonsounded likeadventure.

Nikita’s arm went around her shoulders, strong and solid.

She shuddered and leaned into his warmth. It was confusing, all of it – the way he looked at her now, the way he made her pulse jump, the way she was softening toward all of them, and wanting them to succeed.

“Think about it on the way back,” Nikita said. “You don’t have to decide now.”

Overcome with sudden exhaustion, she nodded, and then laid her head down on his shoulder.

The others laughed at something Ivan had said by the fire, and around them, the dark forest reserved judgement.

23

FOUR WALLS

He’d shaved closely, carefully via his reflection in puddles and slow-moving streams while they were camping out in the woods north of here. Feliks had a little hand mirror he’d borrowed a time or two.

Standing at a sink full of clean water, face white with lather, mirror steaming as he shaved in the white-tiled bathroom at the base seemed the height of luxury. Dr. Ingraham was annoying, but his American money had bought an American-style base, with showers the likes of which Nikita had never seen before. He passed the razor along his jaw, taking off stubble and revealing a stripe of pale skin, and he thought he looked thinner, but not unhealthy. He realized, with some surprise, that he’d been eating regularly, nothing but protein, lots of fresh game, with the occasional bit of cheese or bread thrown in. He didn’t feel weak or unsteady. Studying his reflection – naked save the towel around his waist – he thought he looked leaner, harder, more muscular than he had before, and he felt better than he had in months even though his hipbones stuck out sharp, framed by deep shadows.

“Huh,” he said aloud, voice echoing off the wet tile around him.

“Talking to yourself again?” Kolya asked, drawing up to the next sink over. His hair had grown so long that it hung almost to his shoulders, longer than normal since it was wet from the shower. He slicked it back with both hands and shot Nikita a questioning glance. “You had breakfast?”

“Fuck you. Yes.” Nikita snorted and returned his attention to the mirror, feeling only a little guilty that he’d lied.

They’d trooped in after dark last night, bone-tired, swaying on their feet, too exhausted to even get cleaned up. Nikita had awakened earlier that morning to realize he’d even slept in his muddy boots.

The door to the bunk room had been cracked, and the scent of breakfast had wafted down from the floor above: the nauseating stench of burnt grease and something pre-packaged. The appetite he’d enjoyed during their expedition shriveling up into nothing.

“Your girl,” Kolya started, and Nikita made a dismissive sound.

“Notmine. It isn’t like that.”

“Uh-huh. You just wish it was.”

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