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“You’ll get frostbite.” Said out of habit, considering he’d stopped caring about anything the moment he snapped out of his curse and realized how he’d been used.
Here we go again, Garou groaned.
She glanced at her bare toes. “Frostbite would be unfortunate seeing as how I have no intention of returning to seed so soon. Give me your boots.” An imperious demand.
“You wouldn’t be able to walk in them. My feet are twice your size.” At a custom-made fifteen, he didn’t come by footwear he liked easily.
“You make an unfortunately valid point. The only other solution is for you to carry me to a location where I might properly attire myself.”
“Excuse me?”
She sighed. “Mother save me from dim humans.”
Agreed.
“I’m not human.”
She pursed her lips as she stared before uttering an even longer sound. “Animal. Should have known. Even dumber.”
Hey, wait a second!
“Listen lady—”
“I am no lady.”
“Obviously.” His turn to be sarcastic.
“I am Mother Earth’s champion. As such, you will carry me to a location where I can acquire less offensive-smelling clothing and footwear.”
“I doubt the goddess would want you to have my help. I’m persona non grata these days.” His lips turned down.
She cocked her head and her eyes lost focus before she murmured, “The Mother says you weren’t at fault but since you seek redemption you should provide me with aid that I might achieve victory in my quest.” The woman frowned. “Ignore that. I don’t require help.”
“Says the barefoot lady in the woods.”
“Only because you won’t give me your ridiculously large, and most likely smelly, boots.”
“You’re awfully demanding for someone who tried to kill me.”
“I wasn’t trying or you’d be dead.”
She meant it too.
“Guess it wouldn’t hurt to carry you. That is if you can handle being close to my unwashed body,” was his sarcastic reply.
“Finally, you make the right decision. I will do my best to not breathe through my nose. Turn around.”
“Why?” he asked, spinning rather than arguing.
She launched herself at his back, her weight slight enough he didn’t stagger, but he did startle. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands clutched his shoulders. “Onward, beast of burden.”
Hold on. I don’t think I like her anymore. Buck her off!
Rather than listen to Garou, he replied, “How about, ‘Thanks Baptiste. Awfully nice of you to help.’”
“In my day we didn’t thank the horses that carried us,” was her snooty reply.
“I’m not a fucking horse.” He growled with annoyance, a feeling that warmed some of the dead inside. It had been a while since he’d felt anything.
