Page 122 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
Further speculation was soon driven from Tenma’s mind. Their pursuer had caught up.
Tremors rippled through his muscles, brought on by tension and by the cold. The monster was close enough, he was catching moods—gleeful, vindictive, triumphant. But he didn’t want to be noticed, so he tamped down on the urge to explore further. Tenma wouldn’t disremember this raw, reveling soul anytime soon.
A moment later, the predatory presence veered away, chasing after Inti. And instead of being afraid for himself, Tenma was wretchedly frightened for his friend. Was the crosser cunning enough to stay ahead of something older and wilier?
The panic vanished, which made sense. Without any Amaranthine in the vicinity, fear lost its hold over him. He slumped sideways in the chill space, queasy in the aftermath of all that adrenalin.
For a long while, nothing else happened. But then a howl bit through the darkness, jolting Tenma’s heart back into overdrive. A second howl came, closer this time. Every hair seemed to stand on end, straining for any sign of a threat. Tenma went still, sure that something was coming for him.
Even though the reasonable part of Tenma’s brain knew that Inti had promised to send help, its coming alarmed him. He was being hunted again. And he was trapped.
Something landed on his rooftop and came closer, snuffling. Padding steps, and a pair of large black paws appeared through the slats, their claws faintly scraping the roof’s pebbled surface. A low whine sent ice down Tenma’s spine.
It was stupid to be afraid. But he had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing.
A voice came, speaking in a foreign language. English. Then what he recognized as a muttered oath before he could understand. “Sorry, Subaru-kun. In Japanese this time. You okay?”
Familiarity did nothing to stave off the fear.
“Tenma Subaru?” The person outside crouched as if kowtowing in apology, keen eyes peering up through the metal slats. “Aw, man. He’s so scared. Can you reach Hanoo?”
The howl poured through his heart like ice water, and he shivered.
“I’m opening the hatch, Tenma. Hang on, man. Nice and easy.” He’d reverted to muttering in English, but he moved slowly. Setting aside the flimsy barricade that had kept Tenma hidden, he made the sign for peace. “You know who I am, buddy?”
“Ploom,” he whispered.
“Yeah, it’s Ploom.” He gestured to the big wolf looming behind him. “And this is one of our Kith. You remember Cove? You met him in class, the Nightspangle wolf partnered to Reaver Armstrong.”
He was babbling, just keeping up a soothing monologue, and he’d assumed such a submissive posture, he was almost groveling. Tenma closed his eyes. Ploom was his classmate, his friend. Easily as nice as Quen. Why couldn’t he accept the closeness he craved?
A low call, the sound of running feet, and another voice. “Subaru-kun?”
Hanoo had come.
“Did something happen?” Hanoo frowned. “Hey, now. Where’s your seal, huh?”
“Sorry,” Tenma mumbled. “Lost it. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” Hanoo sat on the ground, elbows on knees, hands hidden from view. “Bad news is … none of us knows beans about sigilcraft, so we can’t give you any relief.”
Tenma nodded.
Hanoo raked a hand through his hair. “Where is Quen in all this?”
Ploom said, “The entire Starmark pack is at circle tonight.”
“Got it. Okay, then. Guess we’re it.” Hanoo said, “I know this isn’t going to appeal, but the best way to get little reavers over their fear of us has always been touch. May I touch you, Tenma-kun?”
Anything, as long as it worked. Tenma struggled to move his numb limbs and scooted awkwardly forward, to be met partway. Hanoo lifted and pulled, and Tenma collapsed into the young wolf, who’d traded his usual school clothes for a fur vest. By this point, Tenma was half-frozen, and some basic part of his nature had given up the fight. Limp and unresisting, he waited for Hanoo to put him out of his misery—one way or another.
“You’re all jitters and jumps. Give your instincts time to catch up.” Hanoo tucked Tenma under his chin and rubbed circles against his back. “Keep telling yourself I’m a friend. You’re safe now.”
Safe. Tenma withdrew into himself, trying not to think about anything beyond his next heartbeat. Little by little, Hanoo’s presence took shape in his mind, heavy as a quilt, thick with comfort, a hushing darkness that rumbled like distant thunder.
“Did something happen?” Hanoo asked softly.
“Lost my sigil.”
