Page 13 of Beasts of Mine

“A spirit is probably the easiest word for you,” the being explained, stepping out of the shallow water onto the moss beside it.

“A nature spirit?” I asked, looking around the clearing again now that I had something—however impossible—to call the creature.

“If you like,” the spirit replied, brushing a damp section of hair away from one shoulder.

I released the breath I'd been holding.

“Okay,” I murmured to the spirit, because my brain had apparently decided that was an acceptable response to discovering nature spirits existed.

“You believe me rather quickly,” the spirit observed, watching my face with open curiosity.

“I watched a tayra turn into you,” I reminded the spirit, gesturing toward the pool behind it. “I don't think denying what's happening is going to improve the situation.”

The spirit glanced down at the bandage around its ankle.

“You helped me,” the spirit said, lightly touching the edge of the white wrap with its fingertips.

“You were trapped,” I answered the spirit, unable to see what part of that required explanation.

“You didn't know what I was,” the spirit pointed out, raising those strange eyes toward me again.

“No,” I replied to the spirit, wiping my damp palms against the sides of my pants.

“You were afraid,” the spirit continued, its attention remaining on me.

“A little,” I admitted to the spirit with a small shrug. “You had teeth.”

The spirit smiled.

“That didn't stop you,” the spirit said, its expression softening as it waited for my answer.

“You were hurt,” I replied to the spirit, the words coming easily because there really wasn't anything more complicated behind what I'd done.

The amusement disappeared from its face.

“You didn't ask for anything,” the spirit said quietly, glancing once more at the bandage.

“Why would I?” I asked the spirit, genuinely confused by the question.

“Many do,” the spirit answered, and there was something tired in its voice that hadn't been there before.

“For helping an injured tayra?” I asked the spirit, my brow furrowing as I tried to imagine what sort of person would bargain over something like that.

“For kindness,” the spirit clarified, lowering its hand from its ankle.

I considered that for a moment.

“Then maybe you've been meeting the wrong people,” I told the spirit, glancing toward the forest where the snare remained somewhere beyond the vines.

The spirit didn't answer immediately. Instead, it raised one hand. A soft golden light appeared above its palm.

I stepped back.

“Nope,” I told the spirit, holding one hand up when it started toward me.

“You don't know what I'm doing,” the spirit pointed out, amusement returning to its expression.

“That's exactly why I'm saying no,” I replied to the spirit, keeping my attention on the glowing light rather than its face.