Page 6 of Hunted By Wolves and Shadow
The way he answered carried a hollowness, as if he was missing a piece to his puzzle. He sounded lonely.
Or maybe that was me projecting. It was probably me.
I filled the silences with whatever came to mind, and he slowly relaxed into his corner of the couch, speaking more as he asked me about my life.
I told him a bit about my father. “He’s very busy with work, so he doesn’t have much time to spare unless it’s for my sister. I’m the one who puts meals on the table, brings in enough from the bakery to save for our tithes, and actually remembers when the fief’s collector is coming, but she’s the eldest.” I fought to keep the bitterness from my voice, but it was gratifying to see his frown anyway.
By unspoken agreement, we avoided the topic of Grandma Ruby and my festering anxiety over her whereabouts. The longer we talked, the more comfortable I felt with Wolf, but I couldn't help wondering how much longer Grandma was going to be. He caught me glancing to the door again.
“If she went to town, she’d be stuck waiting this out the same as us,” Wolf reassured.
“I’ve never seen it like this.”
He frowned but didn't answer.
If the Mist didn't lift, I didn't relish the idea of making my way back home. Growls and roars still echoed in my mind, and my heart raced at the thought of not being able to see my surroundings properly.
Strangely, I didn't hate the idea of being stuck here a bit longer with Wolf, although when night fell, things could get awkward. It was a small cottage. Grandma's bedroom was the only one, and aside from the tiny water closet, it was the only room with its own door.
“We should eat,” Wolf suggested as the day wound down. “I’m sure we can find something worth cooking in here.” He was good at distracting me right when I needed it.
Cooking…now that I could do!
I set down my empty glass and stood. “I had cornbread and biscuits that would have been good with some simple beans and a roasted quail, but unfortunately…” I waved a despondent hand toward the front door.
“Ah.” Wolf nodded sagely. “Necessary sacrifices, given the circumstance.”
“I suppose.”
He chuckled at my obvious disappointment over the lack of fresh bread. “If you can rustle up that quail, I can solve our dearth of bread.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “But I’ll need the oven.”
“Leave it to me, Emi.” He winked, and I was mildly uncomfortable with what that wink did to my insides.
All right, then. “First, one of us is going to have to brave the back garden to gather some beans. Sounds like a job for a master gardener, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, I see how it is. Sacrifice the stranger, is it?”
I gave him my most beatific smile.
He responded with a flourishing bow. “At your service.” Then he ducked out the back door without even a hint of fear. It set my fingers tingling.
By the time he returned with a fistful of string beans, I had a bird out from Grandma’s cold storage and was rubbing the plucked flesh with a combination of the dried herbs from aboveher kitchen window. I would do a dry roast and add the beans when the skin began to crisp, but I was far more interested to see how Wolf was going to make me bread without the oven.
The whole cottage was small, so the kitchen had just enough space for one person to work between the parallel countertops. Wolf and I quickly tangled limbs as we tried to navigate it.
“Have you seen flour?” he asked.
I pointed. He had to squeeze by me to reach the pantry, and I held my breath as he steadied my hips while he slid behind me. For a heartbeat, our bodies were pressed together. Then he had to do it all over again in reverse once he had the flour in hand. I sucked in my lips to stop from smiling, curious if I might be having some effect on Wolf, since he certainly had one on me if the butterflies in my stomach were any indication.
From the corner of my eye, I watched with interest as Wolf prepared the simplest of ingredients. He added some cornmeal and baking powder to the flour. Then he used hot water from the kettle to melt some butter and added that as well.
“Will you use the stovetop?” I asked. I may have been secretly hoping he’d say yes since I wouldn’t mind having him in the tight space with me some more.
But he shook his head and took the bowl along with a stick he’d brought inside over to the fire. “I’m used to cooking over open flame.”
Covering my disappointment, I left him to his task and returned to mine, basting the quail with its own juices and adding the beans to finish it off. The cottage filled with delicious scents and my mouth was watering by the time I plated the food and carried it to where Wolf was finishing up at the fire.
