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My eyes widened and I stumbled to my feet, balling my hands into fists. One of the wolves stood on all fours—a massive gray creature with yellow eyes that glimmered in the early moonlight.
Shit, shit, shit! I’d dropped my bow during the scuffle with the three men in the field.
The other two wolves pushed up from their hind legs. I backed up into the mare’s flank, and she whinnied, stepping haphazardly around me.
“Don’t fear,” said a voice on the other side of the creek. “They won’t harm you.”
My head whipped over to the scratchy voice.
A man appeared from between low-hanging branches of a sagging tree. I could smell his earthy, sour scent from here, wafting on the breeze. He was shorter than me, and wore his hair in gray braids that reached down to his chest. They were gnarled and thick like roots. His dark skin, nearly black, created an immaculate frame for his blindingly white teeth. His smile wrinkled his aged face.
Had he not appeared through the trees, I would have never spotted him. He blended in perfectly with the landscape. Almost as if he was part of the terrain.
“Who are you?” I asked hesitantly.
“A simple nomad, ma’am.”
“Those wolves are . . . yours?”
He chuckled in a high-pitched tone. “The creatures of nature belong to no man, anymore than that beautiful steed belongs to you.”
I blinked.
“But they won’t attack you, because I feed them well.” He shrugged. “We can’t control the spirits of the forest, but we can bribe them.”
My brow furrowed.
He said, “Where are you headed in such a hurry, if you don’t mind my asking?”
For all his ragged, strange appearance, he seemed sane and eloquent. If he was mad—as his words suggested—he hid it well.
“I do mind,” I said defensively. Then I recognized it wasn’t in my best interest to disregard or anger this man. Not if he could “bribe” the wolves to eat me. “Apologies.”
He crouched in front of the river across from me, legs bowing awkwardly to his sides. “It’s no matter, ma’am. I am heading south. I was called for work.”
“Work?”
“I am something of a healer.” His chin jutted toward my arm. “Which it seems you might be in need of.”
I glanced at my arm. It was bleeding again, cracked from when I bent it to drink the water. The red droplets were dripping into the clear water, slowly evaporating into murky red dots on its surface.
“You seem to be heading north, hastily,” he said, nodding sagely to himself.
The wolves off to the side were ignoring me, their protective aggression gone so they could sip from the creek some more.
“Aye,” I said, and rubbed the back of my neck. “I am going to—” Wait, I thought. I just said I didn’t want this odd man knowing where I was going. “You’re a healer, you said?”
“Some would say. I simply speak to the forest and she heeds my call. Sometimes. You never have to look far for ointments and potions if you live surrounded by their ingredients.” His white smile shone through his dark face as he gestured wide at the woodlands.
My curiosity piqued. Rubbing water over my wound, and wincing, I said, “Might I ask your name, sir?”
“It is Wulfric, ma’am.”
Slowly, a laugh rolled out of me. I threw my head back. I felt I was cracking, going hysterical.
“It is quite a funny name, isn’t it?” he said, chuckling.
“No, I’m sorry, sir. The irony is simply incredible.”
