“Anyway, I told him exactly where he could put his cursed saddle, and he got very upset about it. There might have been yelling."
"On whose part?"
"Mostly his. My voice doesn't really carry when I yell." She pitches her voice higher, shakes her fist at the ceiling. "'Stop selling people cursed saddles!' See? It just sounds squeaky."
"Mine's worse." I match her pitch and go higher, because I can always go higher. "'Stop selling cursed saddles!' It soundslike I'm asking nicely."
"That's tragic."
"I know. No one takes me seriously when I'm angry."
"You could try being less adorable."
"I'm notadorable. I'm threatening."
"You're five feet tall and you squeak when you're mad." She pats my head and I swat her hand away. "You're not threatening anyone."
"I could be threatening."
"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Kestria snorts. "I'm honestly surprised your voice doesn't hurt the wolves ears. You squeak, Mel. Constantly."
"I.do.not.squeak."
"You absolutely do. Cheerful, high-pitched squeaking. All the time."
"That's not—" My voice climbs higher in protest, which probably doesn't help my case. "See, this is why no one takes me seriously."
"Maybe if you—"
"I'm going to throw this rabbit at you."
"You won't. You'd have to prep it all over again." She grins. "But seriously, doesn't it hurt them? All that high-pitched squeaking?"
"They're wolves, not bats. They can handle it." I grab the knife, point it at her.
"You're squeaking right now."
"I'm threatening you right now."
"With that voice?" She's laughing, hands up in surrender. "Terrifying."
Kestria picks up the knife and starts on the rabbit before I can. Steadier hands than mine—she'd never admit it but she's better at this part. I handle the root vegetables instead, cutting them into rough chunks and dropping them into the pot.
While it simmers, she wanders around the cottage, poking at things and talking about the road.
"You need more comfrey," she tells me, peering into mystorage chest.
"I know."
"And you're almost out of that salve. The thick one."
"I know that too."
"Just checking." She picks up one of my sealed jars of moonbright paste, turning it over in her hands. "You make a lot of this stuff."
"I use a lot of it."
"For the wolves?"
