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“She must have crept back into the campsite when we went to sleep. Seems like she’s taken with you.”
Draven looked at the exmoor with something like regret. “She can’t follow us. Where we’re going, it’ll be too dangerous.”
I stared. “Too dangerous for an exmoor? But not for us?”
He ignored me and sprang to his feet. Beside him the exmoor stretched and yawned, looking up at Draven with a sleepy expression. I could swear I saw affection in that gaze. I smiled down at the feline.
“She’s beautiful,” I murmured. “Do you think she’d let me touch her?”
“You want to pet an exmoor?” Draven looked as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “I’d wait until she comes to you unless you don’t mind losing a few fingers.”
“Shut up,” I snapped. I crouched down and held out my hand in front of me, feeling a little foolish.
“Promise me you won’t say ‘here kitty, kitty,’” Draven said, watching me.
“I would never call a beautiful, glorious beast such an ignoble name,” I said with dignity. Though I had been tempted. “Here, my beauty. May I touch you?”
The exmoor was studying me from behind narrow, slanted yellow eyes. She made a small chirping sound, just like the housecats that roamed the castle when they were feeling content, then lumbered to her feet and slowly came towards me.
I gulped. Up close, the exmoor seemed even larger somehow. The giant cat’s piercing yellow eyes looked back at me with cleverness and curiosity. My fingers shaking slightly, I extended my hand and touched the creature’s head, stroking gently just between her eyes. As my hand made contact, I was shocked by how plush the exmoor's fur was, so thick and warm, like the most luxurious velvet. Her eyes had closed into half-slits. As I stroked her head, I heard a familiar rumbling sound begin to emanate from her chest.
“She’s purring,” I exclaimed in delight.
“Stop taming the battlecat,” Draven said, looking slightly annoyed. “She’s a killing machine. Not a house pet.”
“Says the man who snuggled beside her all night,” I retorted.
Draven wasn’t capable of blushing. Was he? At that moment I wondered.
“It’s time to go,” Draven declared, turning his back.
“Thank you for the help last night, my beautiful one,” I whispered to the exmoor, before standing up and backing away. “You were magnificent.”
“What if she follows?” I asked, jogging after Draven.
“We’ll throw rocks at her until she stops.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’d never do that, so don’t even say something so cruel.”
“I can be cruel. Didn’t you accuse me of killing infants in their beds not too long ago, Princess?”
“Oh, we’re back to that again,” I scoffed. “You never actually denied it.”
“I don’t answer stupid questions. It’s time to go. Pack up.” He strode away.
“No pancakes for him?” Vesper asked, as I approached.
“He doesn’t deserve pancakes,” I said crankily. “Unbearable man.”
Vesper laughed, then his face sobered. “Look, now that we’re getting close to Valtain...”
“Now that we’re getting close to Valtain what?”
It was Draven. He’d come up behind me. I jumped for a second time that morning, unable to help myself, then glared up at him. “How did you even do that?”
“I have the ears of an exmoor and the tread of a fenrir,” he said with a smirk.
“I’d say comparing yourself to wild animals was fitting, except the exmoor seems highly intelligent,” I muttered. I turned back to Vesper. “You were saying?”
