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And again, I may not remember my life before I woke up in Amara’s house, but I do think I remember snatches about how I felt in my previous life.
And contentment was not a feeling I felt very often.
“This reminds me of the time.” Amara is speaking more to herself than to me. Her eyes sparkle as she speaks. “That I decided to go hunting in the mountains for a change. I brought all my supplies up there, but it didn’t matter because I almost froze to death. If Safira hadn’t come to find me, I would have been a bag of bones by now.”
She continues telling me about the adventures she has had.
“You know,” she says reflectively. “I’ve been banned from at least two human settlements on the other side of the lakes because I always had the wolves with me. And I am only tolerated in the one closest to me because I’m always bringing them the best cuts of meat.”
She really has sacrificed a lot to stay with the pack,I think to myself wonderingly.
“How often do you run with them?” I ask her curiously while wishing that I could remember events from my own life to share with her.
“In summer? I run with them twice a day, every day. The wolves do not tolerate the concept of rest, and I’ve learned to become strong enough to keep up with them. In winter, we run maybe once a week depending on the weather.”
Amara moves to quiet the fire then, and she moves to cut up the rest of the meat. She brings her reserves of salt out of the little supply bag she has, and we vigorously pack the salt around the meat.
“I’ll cook these and boil each piece before roasting,” she huffs, slightly out of breath as we wrap each piece of meat in cloth. “That will get the impurities out. The meat didn’t have any signs of disease which is good.”
She keeps aside some pieces of raw meat for the wolves, and then dinner is served.
And it is a feast for the ages. I doubt I have ever eaten anything this decadent and delicious in my previous life.
I watch as most of the wolves eat the raw meat, although some of them eat some of the cooked meat and even the vegetables.
Have they developed human tastes because of Amara? Is her impact on their lives so complete that they’re completely domesticated around her?
I continue eating the simple meal as the moon rises above us.
The moon is full and fat tonight, and Amara stokes the fire so that it rises into the air, the flames spitting and curling into the air.
After we eat, she buries the bones and any other discarded skin or fat that she couldn’t use.
Then she digs through her bag and hands me a bottle. The bottle is small in my large hands, and Amara laughs before she pulls the top off. The strong, burning smell of spirits wafts into the air around us.
“I exchanged some of my healing salve for the alcohol at the settlement’s trading post. It’s good for keeping warm in weather like this.”
The weather isn’t too cold yet, but the alcohol does help keep us warm as we hand the bottle back and forth between one another. The bottle is on the ground between the two of us, and there is one splash of alcohol left.
I reach for it.
And so does Amara.
I thought that I would be used to her touch by now. She has had her hands all over me several times.
But this time, when her hand brushes against mine, it feels completely different.
My skin is on fire when we make contact, and I swallow as I look at her.
I let go of the bottle and leave it in her hands.
“You drink it.” She laughs dizzily and shakes her head.
“No, it’s okay. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, anyway.”
She throws the alcohol out on the ground, and I watch as the droplets sink into the soil.
What is happening? Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel like I’m on fire around her?
