Page 49 of Hunted By Wolves and Shadow
“Emi,” I replied.
“I know.” Her smile grew. “I know what you did there, too. Thank you.”
“It was nothing, really. I’m still learning to use the magic, but if I can help someone, why wouldn't I?”
“That was lovely too, but I meant what you did for Wolf and Lynx, distracting us so they could talk privately about Fenrir. Is he dead, then?” she asked with a matter-of-fact tone that made me reassess her true strength.
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought intentionally about it. There’d been a frisson of tension, between Wolf's sorrowful mention of Fenrir and the way Lynx had called him Fen. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” Fawn tugged my hand to draw me over to her fire where she stirred a pot of something that smelled a little spicy with the heady scent of cooked meat. “They used to be close, Lynx and Fenrir. Fen had lost his brother, and Lynx felt terrible for him. He has a brother too; Bob is around here somewhere.”
“Bob?” I asked, surprised. “But you're all named after animals.”
Fawn giggled. “Our kindreds, yes.”
“Kindreds?”
“Some call them our monsters, the ones we shift into in the Mist. But I prefer to think of them as our kindred spirits. Not bad, not good, just a part of us. A part the Mist brings out.”
Wolf had only ever called his beast a monster, or just the wolf if he was being kind. What must it be like knowing that the moment you stepped beyond the walls of this little sacred space, you'd become something else? Something you couldn't fully control, but something that was also still you?
“Anyway,” Fawn continued, “yes, Bob is Lynx's brother. It’s Bobcat, technically.”
Oh! I chuckled.
“They're close. We all are, but most of us are family by choice and by circumstance. Fenrir and his brother were the only othertwo related by blood, both fenriswulfs, so when his brother died, it hit Lynx and Bob especially hard too. They tried so hard to keep Fen from succumbing to the worst of his nature, which the Mist always tries to draw out.” She shuddered. “It's so cold, but so hard to resist at the same time. The curse is always trying to claim more of us and take away the human part of us. Fenrir lost his fight when he gave in to his anger and grief.”
“But not Lynx or Bob.”
“No, they're strong,” Fawn said with a fond smile. Across the fire, Lynx met her eyes before returning to his talk with Wolf. Fawn’s eyes crinkled as she bent to the pot and dished up two bowls of what turned out to be rabbit stew. She handed me one, and I took it wordlessly as she settled beside me with a gentle pat to my knee.
I couldn't imagine how difficult this life must be. Knowing my grandmother was the one who’d subjected them all to this fate was a cold so deep it burned me from the inside.
All around the enclave, people went about their routines for the night, their chatter forming a soothing tide of noise we all drifted on. Some dipped cups and jugs in the mouth of the clear stream that ran through one side of the space, others gathered blankets off drying racks around fires and ducked behind low walls constructed from bushes or woven branches, and more still banked up fires or emptied waste pots at the bottom end of the stream to be carried away. But everywhere I looked, I also saw how they helped each other. They were all looking out for one another, whether it was handing over an extra blanket or braiding hair for sleep. Around the perimeter, I spotted Bear and Robin walking together like they were patrolling.
“I think you're all strong.”
Fawn patted my arm. “And I think you'd know something about that. You would have to, being who you are. Besides, you're strong enough to get through to Wolf, and that's no smallfeat.” She smiled softly up at him and Lynx, their heads bent together, deep in solemn conversation. “He doesn't trust easily, our Wolf. He's a good man, though.” She turned a more serious expression, though still kind, on me. “Don't betray that trust, now that you've won it.”
She wasn't the last to tell me so that evening, as we finished our dinner and the fires grew bright against the darkening walls of the enclave, casting dancing shadows among the clustered groups. I heard it again and again as people stopped by Fawn’s fire to chat and check out the witch in their midst.
“He must really trust you.”
“He deserves the best.”
“We’d be lost without Wolf.”
“Don't hurt him.”
More and more, I was finding it was the last thing I wanted to do.
Seeing Wolf interact with everyone in the enclave made me see him in a new light. The man I’d once fervently wanted to kill was a far cry from the one I saw now.
Here, he was relaxed and sincere, moving from group to group to check in with everyone after ensuring that I was content to stay with Fawn by her fire. He spread his attention evenly, caring and warm, solving problems with calm efficiency and doling out friendship and humor that set everyone at ease.
It was obvious how this group looked to him with a sort of reverence, as a leader. He sent a middle-aged woman over so I could heal a burn on her forearm, and it was amazing to see her faith that he wouldn't put her in danger. I should have been theirworst enemy, but as Wolf made his rounds, I could almost sense the enclave expel a collective breath and relax. People began to head to bed, unworried at the witch among them. All because of him.
They trusted him.
