Page 56 of Mongrel
“Concentrate on what lies on the other side, rather than what’s beneath your feet,” he advises.
Trying that, I lift my gaze to the far bank and take in the city of Buda.
It’s much larger than Pest, perhaps three times the size, and as such, the whole of it isn’t walled in. Only the castle and keep are walled, an impressive sight, even from far away. Its numerous towers pierce the sky with their green-roofed caps. As we draw closer, I make out a red stone staircase shining like polished marble that leads to a magnificent second-story entrance. Massive bronze gates remain closed, and a matching bronze statue of Hercules guards the courtyard.
Pest was flatter terrain in comparison. Buda is hilly throughout, and behind the city, even taller hills rise in the distance. We’ll only be passing through, chasing Cecily’s scent from inside the city to wherever it may lead. I wonder if we shall soon be exploring those far-off hills. I hope so because the forest calls like a beacon.
The planks we walk on lift and fall with the river currents. Nausea rises to my throat, but I ignore it as best I can, hoping it doesn’t get the best of me.
Beside me, Bowie begins to chatter, and I focus on his voice. It helps.
“The bridge was constructed to allow four-way traffic,” he explains. “A marvel of modern society. Not only can commerce pass from Buda to Pest and back, but the river remains passable for boats as well. When a ship needs to cross past the bridge, a larger section of the floating planks is simply moved—floated right out of the way to create a gap for the ship. Once it sails through, the bridge is floated back into place, locked, and people can cross again. Brilliant.”
He’s not wrong, but the idea that the bridge is so easily…portable doesn’t exactly settle my stomach. A children’s story flashes through my mind, a wooden bridge, a friendly troll called Arlo living beneath who liked to be paid with trinkets like shiny rocks and one-of-a-kind shells. It’s been quite a long time since Ava read me that one. I suppose I’m too old for it now, but the thought is still comforting.
When we’re nearly across, I’m shocked to discover we must pay on this side as well. But what do they do when travelers spend all their money on the first toll, not knowing the second one exists? I’m left to wonder as we arrive on solid earth, and I can finally breathe a sigh of grateful relief.
“You did well,” says Bowie, releasing my waist to pat my cheek. From anyone else, it would seem condescending, but from Bowie, it’s genuine affection and pride. “That is the only floating bridge I know of, so you can rest easy.”
I won’t take immovable ground beneath my feet for granted anytime soon.
I don’t pay much attention to Buda as we make our way through on the main roads. The trail doesn’t indicate Cecily was allowed to stop for any length of time in the city. Rather they traveled straight through, as we are doing. This close, my view of the castle is partially obstructed by its towering stone walls, though the tall spires can’t be missed. The scene from the top must be magnificent, like what a bird sees when it soars above the entire landscape.
We pass from city to farmland, then farmland to forest. Our path ascends into the hills, narrowing from a maintained road to little more than a trail through trees. Horses could pass, but wagons and carts would find the terrain difficult, if not impossible.
Being within the woods’ embrace has a certain homey feel to it, even though these aren’t my woods. Thinking of Ava, I hope she doesn’t miss me as much as I miss her.
I spend the rest of the night on four legs, my nose to Cecily’s trail, covering as much ground as my body will let me. Making swift progress, I’m in deep concentration when Bowie’s voice breaks my stride.
“Andras wait,” he says from where he follows a few paces behind me. As I slow to a halt, he catches up quickly. “The view, turn and look.”
The view? I hadn’t even realized we’d crested a ridge line. Behind us stretches a wide valley with the Danube dividing it down the middle. The glowing torchlight above the guard towers reflects in ripples off the water. We’re so far away the castle is a mere speck on the riverbank, its own torches like tiny stars, as distant as the sky itself.
I’m shocked at the distance we’ve traveled in just one night, and more so that my body is willing to press on. With Cecily’s scent in my nostrils, my drive to find her eclipses my other needs. I should have known Bowie wouldn’t allow that. It’s the first thing from his lips.
“You must eat, and I thought you might like to see the city before we move on,” he says.
I haven’t been paying attention to prey smells. It seems a waste to spend time tracking down a meal. Remembering the sweet figs Catherine packed for me, I prepare to shift so I can eat them.
Bowie catches my gaze as I begin, and I’m struck anew by his exquisite beauty. Perhaps even more so now that I’ve had the chance to properly adore him, one gasp at a time.
We watch each other as I slowly transform from the wolf to the man. As it’s happening, I realize I’m more tired than I thought. My feet are sore, so is my neck. I roll it, and a series of cracklingpopsrelieve some of the tension.
Bowie steps into my space, and I welcome him with a nuzzle to his neck. Smelling myself on him, my scent mixed with his, brings a possessive growl to my throat. I hold it in. Growling in this form isn’t sexy; it’s weird. Bowie’s hands on my skin turn me back toward the stunning view. We gaze across the starlit lands together, him pressed to my back.
Until my stomach decides I’ll be growling after all.
“Ithoughtyou might be hungry,” he says, humor laced in his soft tone.
“You’re right, but I don’t want to lose any time. Hand me the pack.”
He swipes it off his shoulder, and I dig inside for the figs. They smell divine.
“You can’t have only figs for dinner. Surely you need to catch something.”
“There’s plenty,” I argue. Catherine has packed enough for a feast. I stuff two into my mouth and speak around them. “Then we’ll be on our way.”
“But they’re just sweets, not a real meal.”
