Page 9 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

Vannaria frowns, glancing up at it as well. Near-inaudibly, she whispers, “I refuse to let a horse this fine go to waste. If she recognizes it, you run and hide somewhere while I…dispose of her.”

Baring my teeth at her, I pin my ears flat against my skull. With a low growl rumbling in my throat, I step between her and the other mercenary that’s possibly approaching. I hear another faint chuckle behind me, but don’t bother turning around to acknowledge it. In my human form, I’m far from a damsel in distress. In this one?

I’m the beast people need rescuing from.

And then I let out another huff upon realizing my clothes, and swords, are still lying on the ground in plain sight.

Apparently, Vannaria also notices because she stands with a slight groan and walks over to retrieve them, not bothering to keep her footsteps silent. As she slides the straps of my scabbard back onto her shoulders, I give her what I hope is a grateful look. While she’s shoving my skirt into the bag at her hip, another snapping twig breaks the momentary silence.

Pressing a finger to her lips, she mouths, “Let me do the talking.” Then gives me an overly exaggerated wink. Clearly this bitch mistakenly thinks she’s funny.

The effort it takes to keep my tail still only adds to my irritation.

Not but a moment later, a cacophony of new scents assault my overly-sensitive nose. Sweat-soaked leather smelling even more potent than Vannaria’s boots. Lingering traces of several varieties of alcohol. Dried blood. Of the humanoid variety. …And a faint hint of the overwhelmingly sweet scent of chloroform.

Cursing my current inability to speak, I dart in front of Vannaria and leap up, pressing my large paws against her chest in hopes of shoving her back towards the horse. As she stumbles back a step, Vannaria whispers, “What is it? Are we running now?” I’m not intending to imply we should run, I just want her to be able to escape in a hurry if this potential confrontation goes south.

Why I’m suddenly so protective of her I’m not exactly sure. I’m choosing to blame my wolven instincts.

And I’m about to make an absolute fool out of myself as well. Letting out a low whine, I lift my nose high in the air and do my best to portray that I’m smelling something by sniffing as loudly as I can. Then I give a very poor performance of a damsel in distress by closing my eyes and letting my body fall limp onto the forest floor.

Peeking one eye open, I see Vannaria has both hands clamped over her mouth in an effort to keep her laughter at bay. Letting out a heavy sigh, I leap back to my feet and pin her with what I hope looks like an icy glare.

Clearing her throat softly, she glances in the direction of the now audible footsteps and quietly asks, “She’s got chloroform then?” I dip my head in a nod. “Well then.” She quickly adjusts the scabbard on her back so that my swords are now underneath the bow that’s also slung over her shoulders. To my relief, she then grabs the horse’s mane and swings up onto its back. Glancing down at me, she grins, flipping her hood up to cover her face. “Smart dog. Always good to have a quick escape plan, just in case.”

The growl that had been building in my throat at the ‘dog’ comment is forgotten as a gruff voice calls out, “Oy, you there.” Hackles raised, I whirl around to see a large, incredibly muscular woman step out from behind a large tree. Not even sparing me a glance, she pins her gaze on Vannaria and asks, “Should I assume you’re the one that caused all the ruckus back in town?”

In a voice much deeper than what I’ve grown accustomed to, Vannaria replies, “Nay, I ain’t been to town in quite some time. Fan of the forests, ya see.”

“That so?” The woman asks, taking a step closer.

“Aye, it is. Prefer keeping ta myself. Well, myself and ole’ Amara here.”

Dark eyes lower to mine and the bounty hunter frowns. “Hmm.” Her gaze drifts back up as she spits a chunk of something out of her mouth and sneers, “So. Where ya get the horse from then? Sure looks like the one I saw tearing through town like it was trying to outrun the flames of the hells themselves.”

Every muscle in my body tenses and I prepare myself for this conversation to escalate into an altercation. And then I hear a low chuckle from behind me.

“Well, he may’ve been. Wouldn’t know. Just found the ole’ boy wandering through the trees looking as lost as a day old pup looking for a nipple to suck. Figured he was fair game since I ain’t seen another soul around these parts, aside from you.”

“That so?” the giant hunk of muscle repeats. “How ‘bout ya lower that cloak then. Since ya ain’t got nothin’ ta hide.”

I hear the faint sound of fabric rustling, but don’t dare take my eyes off of the danger in front of me.

To my confusion, the large woman…relaxes. “Ah, apologies sir. Mistook ya for the woman who ran off with the bounty I been sent ta collect.” Then she chuckles.

From behind me another low chuckle joins in. “Well, as ye can see, I ain’t no woman. Matter of fact, you’re the first one o’ them I’ve seen in a long while.” Why do I get the sense that there is a smirk curling the lips those words just came out of?

“Save ya the effort, I ain’t interested. But if ye happen ta see any other women around…” A feral grin spreads across the muscular woman’s face. “Be sure to tie ‘em up real nice and come find me in town, will ye? I’ll make it worth your while. Ye can bet your ass on that.”

“Aye. Imagine I can do that. You gonna be hangin’ aroun’ these parts then?” Vannaria asks, receiving a nod in agreement from the woman. “Well, a’ight. I’ll be sure ta keep an eye out. For now, I gotta get back ta checkin’ traps though. Losing daylight and I ain’t keen on setting up a shelter in the dark.”

“Bet not. Oh, and the name’s Ashana. Figure ya might need that if ya gonna be asking for me in town.” Then, with a casual wave, the giantkin mercenary retreats back into the forest in the direction she’d just come from.

When I risk a glance at Vannaria over my shoulder, I immediately whirl in absolute shock. Sitting atop the horse is no longer a painfully attractive elven woman, but instead a human man with shoulder-length black hair and dark green eyes.

A guttural growl rips itself from my throat, my fur standing on end and body shaking with barely contained instinctual aggression.

“Don’t be alarmed, Mariane. My name is Aren, Vannaria’s mental companion,” the strange man says, careful to keep his voice low as he slowly raises his hands.