Keeper of the Wolves (4 page)

She continued toward me slowly. There was
something about her gaze that laid me bare and made me feel exposed
and open as though she could read the battle of my thoughts. Human
emotions warred with my wolven instincts and I could barely
maintain control of my sanity. I was a wolf. I repeated the thought
countless times in my mind, but the uncertainty that followed was
human and foreign, creating doubt as much as confirming my
fears.

The girl knelt on the soft green grass
outside the door to the cage. I couldn’t decide if I wanted her to
open it or if I felt better with the bars to shield me from the
understanding and compassion that shone in her eyes. Sorrow showed
in the depths of her gaze. I don’t know how I recognized the
emotions I barely understood, but something heartbreaking and lost
hesitated beneath the surface of her sky blue eyes and resounded
with the ache in my heart.

The girl spoke softly and a spark showed in
her eyes, a light of determination that chased the edge from my
dark thoughts. She withdrew a key from the pocket of her long ivory
coat lined with the fur of an animal whose smell I didn’t recognize
but hinted of snow and iced streams. She slid the key into the lock
and turned it. The latch rotated with a click that made my heart
stutter.

She pulled on the bars and the metal gave a
small creak of protest. I couldn’t remember the last time the door
had been opened. It swung halfway and then stuck. She frowned
slightly and a tiny line formed between her eyebrows. The look made
me want to smile, an absurd emotion for a wolf. My heart pounded
with the combined emotions of fear at her proximity and elation at
the expanse of open air beyond the cage door.

She watched me with a look of trust that was
the only thing that kept me from barreling her over and running so
fast they would never catch me again. She backed slowly until the
door was clear. I took a step forward. My heart thundered in my
throat. Freedom lay beyond the door; a low hedge and an open
stretch of grass was all that lay between me and the high castle
wall. I could leap the wall; I knew that beyond a doubt.

I put my weight on my injured paw and winced
at the pain, but it didn’t matter. All that matter was the open
cage door. I took another step, then another. I kept telling myself
it wasn’t a trick. It took all my pent-up bravado to pretend like
the girl’s proximity didn’t bother me as I stepped through the door
onto the cool grass. The green strands sunk deep under my paws, a
thicket of luxury I had long ago imagined lost in my life.

Then I was out of the cage and beneath the
vast morning-hued sky. It felt as if everything in the world waited
with an abated breath. My muscles tensed and I felt the brush of a
breeze through my thick fur, beckoning me to run, promising dense
evergreens and sunlit valleys. A bird called with the rising scales
of the wisporill. A red and green striped jacklis buzzed from a
nearby rose as it got an early start on the day’s gathering. Nearer
the wall, a rabbit thumped a foot, warning its kin of danger
nearby. The sound sent a rush of adrenaline though my body.

I ran as I had longed to do every day since
I fell for the trap. My paw throbbed but I barely felt the pain
through the rush of clarity that filled my body. I could leap the
wall and be long gone from humans forever. I would run with the
pack, hunt game, chase squirrels, defend our territory, and never
think back to the lash of the whip and cruel eyes alive with
laughter at my pain.

But other eyes held my thoughts, blue eyes
filled with the same despair that burned in my heart. A touch of
meadow gold followed me, the sorrow that lingered in her scent a
torment to my senses. Despite every instinct that screamed for me
to leap the wall and put that life far behind me, my steps
slowed.

I pushed myself further, limping pitifully
and bleeding. The will to leave combated with an intense pull to
stay if only for a moment. I turned slowly, confusion fogging my
thoughts. It didn’t make sense to stay. Running was the only way to
leave the past behind, to leave being human behind.

But I would still be human at the call of
the moon.

My eyes lifted to the girl in the white coat
standing at the edge of the garden. A white cloth trailed from one
of her hands and danced in the morning breeze. She didn’t beckon or
speak; she waited to see what I would do. I took a step toward her,
then another. I didn’t run. Nothing could make me run toward the
cage or the thousands of humans who lived in the brick building and
beyond, but my pace was steady.

I grew close enough to see that her brows
were drawn together as though she couldn’t make sense of my
actions. That made two of us. I stopped within a few paces of her
and sat on the ground. My limbs shook, heavy with fatigue from the
fever that raged through my body. I held my paw up and heard the
patter of blood that fell from the stressed wound. I wanted to lie
down, but my instincts kept me alert despite the weariness.

She watched me, the tiniest shadow of a
smile hinting around her mouth. My eyes flickered from her to the
cage. Her lips pursed slightly and a look of understanding crossed
her face. She pushed the cage door closed and when the metal bars
touched, she turned the key and then withdrew it, locking it
shut.

She hesitated, then sat on the ground, her
motions slow and steady so as to avoid startling me. She dug into
the grass, pulling up dirt in a hand that looked as though it had
never been dirty. Reluctant curiosity filled me as I watched her
dig deeper until she had a hole that met her needs. She put the key
in the bottom and began to pile the dirt on top. Emotions ran
through my body at the gesture. That key symbolized my captivity,
my fear, and the inability to live my life. By the time she patted
down the last of the dirt and settled the patch of grass on top, it
was hard to tell where the key had been buried. A heavy weight
lifted from my shoulders and I let out a slow breath.

She cleaned her hands on the grass, then
held one out for me in the same gesture as when I had been human
and her hand slipped between the bars of the cage. A shudder ran
down my spine and I couldn’t bring myself to move. I had to muster
every ounce of self-control to stay still when she scooted slowly
closer without regard to the grass that stained her coat and dress.
She held out her hand again, inches from my chest. I set my paw in
it hesitantly.

Relief lit her gaze, telling me how much
courage it had taken for her to approach me. Those who could help
her were far beyond the range of assistance; I could snap her neck
with a single bite and be gone before anyone was the wiser. The
fact that I held some control over the situation calmed the tension
in my muscles and I watched her carefully take my paw and inspect
the damage.

Her tongue clicked lightly against her teeth
and she shook her head. She glanced up at me and spoke, her words
gentle. I watched her lips as she talked and wished I could
understand what she was saying. For the first time, speaking felt
important and real, as if my decision to stay heralded some new
direction and I needed to understand to follow it. She dipped her
head again and gently pulled at the shard of glass that stuck out
from the deepest laceration. She worked it slowly from the pad of
flesh and almost had it free when a shout startled both of us.

It was only with complete consciousness over
my actions that I was able to hold perfectly still instead of
lashing out to defend myself as my instincts demanded. The girl’s
hand jerked when she jumped in surprise and she let out a yelp as
the glass sliced her finger. She turned and glared at a man in a
black jerkin with a red cravat and a tattoo of a red horse hoof on
his cheek. He spoke quickly and gestured toward me. I lifted my
lips at his tone and showed him my teeth. The girl shook her head
and spoke several sharp words. He closed his mouth and gave a short
nod with a hand on his heart, then left the garden.

She glanced back at me and I studied her,
amazed that she commanded so much respect the other humans obeyed
without argument. She let out a light laugh at my look and the
sound fell merrily around me like raindrops in the spring. She
glanced at her finger where a thin line of red showed from the
glass. Whispering something that sounded unfeminine, she proceeded
to pull the shard of glass from my paw despite her own bleeding
finger.

I was about to pull my paw away when her
blood mixed with mine. Something strange ran beneath my skin and I
held completely still. It felt as though the static that built
during a lightning storm darted through every vein in my body at
the same time. My heart stuttered, then gave a beat so strong it
echoed in my ears. A metallic taste filled my mouth and I blinked
away dark spots that danced in my vision.

“
Are you
alright?”

My ear turned to catch her voice even as my
brain registered her words. Her speech, soft and filled with
concern, suddenly made sense. I looked at her, waiting for her to
say something else, but she turned her attention back to the shard
of glass. She held it up to the brightening sunlight and shook her
head.

“
You’ve caused a lot of
trouble.”

I tipped my head slightly with the strange
feeling that she meant me instead of the glass. My heart gave a
dull throb at the thought that I had caused her trouble. At the
same time, a surge of relief filled me that I understood her. I
watched as she dug up another small patch of dirt and put the glass
in the hole, then patted it back down. She had a strange way of
burying what troubled her.

Unaware of my thoughts, she opened the small
container the other women had brought. The vial released a scent of
crushed evergreen needles, lavender, rose, aloe, and several other
plants I didn’t recognize. She took my paw again and spread the
ointment over the wound. It burned slightly and the scent tickled
my nose. I sneezed and she glanced at me.

“
You’re not so tough,” she
said with a teasing look that sent a rush of warmth through my
body. She put the lid back on the ointment, then took my paw again
and wrapped it carefully with the white cloth. She put a second
cloth on top and tied it securely.

“
I guess that’ll work for as
long as you leave it on,” she said with doubt heavy in her voice. A
look of uncertainty crossed her face and she touched the wound down
my chest. I shied at the feeling of her fingers on my fur. She
paused and looked at me, her face close to mine. “Sorry,” she said
quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked at the two strips
of cloth that remained, then back at the wound. “I don’t really
know what to do about that.”

She opened the container of ointment. “Maybe
this will have to do.” She scooped some up with her finger and
spread it gently down my chest. She paused when she neared the
bottom of my ribcage and a slight touch of red colored her cheeks.
“I don’t suppose you find this too forward?” she asked mostly to
herself. “I can imagine Joven’s dismay if he found out, even if you
are a wolf.” She put a hand on my shoulder, surprising me with her
familiarity. “Would you mind lying down? I could reach your back
better.”

It was a feat to push down my instincts
enough to do as she asked, but when I settled down in the grass, it
was her silence that caught my attention. I glanced up and found
that her face had gone pale and a scent of shock wafted from her. I
looked around quickly for what had triggered her reaction, but
couldn’t see anything. When I met her eyes again, tears made them
shine brightly. Trepidation rose in my chest. I pushed up to a
sitting position and watched her warily, unsure what to do.

“
You can understand me,” she
said, her voice just above a whisper. She glanced at the cage, then
back at me. “You’ve been stuck in there all this time able to think
and feel like we do?” The thought made her tears spill over. “How
could someone do that to you?”

The same question had resonated over and
over in my mind so many times in the first few weeks of my
captivity. I was beaten and tormented with no explanation as to
why. I closed my eyes briefly at the memory of hopeless
frustration, and when I opened them again she was wiping the tears
from her cheeks. She gave a watery smile. “You must think I’m
ridiculous,” she said with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

I gave a soft snort and her smile touched
her eyes, casting her face in a beautiful glow that made my heart
stutter. The golden rays lit the roses behind her in shades of
crimson and ruby and tangled in her hair as though the sunlight
came from inside of her instead of without. I had never seen
anything so lovely. I committed the picture to memory. If life took
a turn for the worst, at least I would have the image to warm me. I
grimaced at the most human thought I’d had so far.

“
Are you alright?” she
asked. “Do you hurt?”

I didn’t know how to respond. The wounds
were minor compared to others I had experienced. The consideration
she gave made my heartache far worse.

She held the ointment up and looked at me
expectantly. “Can I?”

I hesitated, uncertain it was a good idea,
but I gave in and slowly settled down again. She smoothed the salve
along my back and I knew it wasn’t my imagination that her touch
was even softer than before. A tingle ran down my spine. “They got
you good, whoever it was,” she said quietly. “Your back and chest
should heal, but I’m worried about your hand, or paw, or whichever
you call it.” Her voice lowered. “People who do this to others
should be thrown in a dungeon somewhere and left for the rats.”

Surprised at the vehemence of her words, I
glanced at her. She met my eyes and a very becoming blush ran
across her cheeks. “A lady shouldn’t say such things, and neither
would a duchess.” She shook her head and regret showed in her eyes.
“Maybe someday I can convince Joven I’m neither.”