April 10th, 1929

Nicoletta jumped out of the truck gratefully, while Dunfre and the assistant that had joined them sorted out stopwatches and clipboards and bits of paper and whatever else they thought they needed. Even a short ride crammed between people was too long for her wolven frame. 

But now, out of the truck and with the earth under her paws, she loped a wide circle away from everyone, ignoring when Dunfre called her back and when Moore started stomping out after her, instead searching the air currents for any sign of Vano. 

It was no surprise that there wasn’t one, but she had to try. 

Eventually, she trotted back to the cars and Woodward, who’d been watching her with bemusement. She licked his hand in an attempt to settle him, which utterly backfired: he startled away. Once he recovered, he reached out to pet her head, rubbing her ear. Then he froze. As if remembering who she was, he glanced down at her. 

She gave him her very best annoyed canine look, flattening her ears against her skull and looking at him from under her brows. 

He pulled his hand away and murmured, “I’m so sor–” but was interrupted as Dunfre called, “And start.”

Nicoletta sprang off, mostly to avoid any awkwardness, ahead of Woodward within two strides. If they weren’t compatible—whatever that meant—would Dunfre try and assign her to another human? Or would Droste remain as her handler? 

Then again, if she didn’t attempt to look like she was cooperating, would Vano pay for it? She never really knew what they did or didn’t do to him depending on her behavior. It was probably on purpose, so she couldn’t predict anything. 

With a sigh she slowed her hop-along gait to come even with Woodward. His stride shortened, and hers along with it, until they were at a more comfortable human running pace.

The first obstacle came up soon enough. Someone had laid wagon wheels flat on the ground and tied them together across the path. She and Woodward were clearly supposed to go through rather than around them, based on the flags, but she had no problem hopping between the spokes and rims. More surprising, Woodward didn’t have any problem with it, either. With some surprise, she realized he’d done it nearly as easily. 

Well. They had found him in a forest. He was probably used to hopping over things, so this was no stretch.

She clearly wasn’t running him fast enough, because he started talking. “I haven’t got a clue how to find this hidden package of theirs. And why is it red? Can you even see color in this form? Or maybe that’s one of their ‘compatibility’ tests.”

Nicoletta was so busy staring at him that she overbalanced and nearly stumbled, but caught herself without looking too foolish. Had anyone ever spoken to her in wolf form, other than recently to give her commands? Her family were the only people who knew what she was, and they were usually in wolf form, too. 

She slowed further, letting him pass her. He ran a few more strides before coming to a stop just ahead. He turned back. She stared at him. 

What were his intentions? Was he genuinely curious, or was this some gambit to win her over? Did he actually want her to answer those questions? With a muzzle and lips that didn’t form words? Since she couldn’t ask, she just kept staring at him. 

For a little while he stared back, seemingly at a loss. Then he ran a hand through his hair, eyes refusing to settle. “I guess we need some other way to communicate if you can’t talk.”

Or they could just not talk. She flicked an ear, but he was too deep in thought to notice. 

“Hmm…” Woodward continued. “How about this? If you think you spot the package—or some kind of danger, I suppose—bark, or yip or…” he faltered, eyes casting around again in search of the next word. 

Bark? Wolves didn’t bark.

He began again as if he’d finished his previous thought. “Will that work for you?”

Nicoletta sighed heavily—something she’d never have done if she was in human form, her gran would scorch her ears for being rude—but human manners were difficult to remember in wolfskin. 

Then, because he clearly was hoping for an answer, she gave a low grumble before starting off again. A little faster, this time. 

**

Fex might not have been able to understand much, but he very clearly got that whatever she’d stopped for, she was dissatisfied with his suggestion. And him, if her sudden speed was an attempt to leave him in her wake. 

Well, he wasn’t going to jeopardize this exercise because she was fickle. That was the right word for it, he decided. Fickle. She seemed to alternate between friendly and hostile from moment to moment, and he had no idea why. But he wanted access to that portal they said they were working on, between this dimension and the Feylands. If the price was proving he could work with a cantankerous she-wolf—or werewolf—whatever she was—he would do it. 

He kicked up his pace and caught up to Nicoletta with ease. He wasn’t keen to show their human observers all he could do, but a little extra speed was hardly out of the expected norm for a human, and they clearly didn’t know everything there was to know about the Fey.  

She flicked an ear at him but didn’t otherwise acknowledge his arrival. They pushed on through a few more fairly conventional obstacles: tunnels to crawl through, low walls to hurdle, a watery ditch to jump across. She made the leap with room to spare; he very nearly lost his footing on the slippery soil when he landed, and would have found himself on his backside in the water if he hadn’t managed to grab a blackberry cane and keep himself on his feet. 

Now his hands were bleeding and full of thorns. He picked them out as he ran, but he’d slowed to do it, while Nicoletta had vanished somewhere ahead. The path jogged and zigzagged, so he had to pay attention to the yellow trail flags as well as avoid the roots and brambles and other natural hazards the forest provided. He was just deciding he’d have to run even faster when he rounded a bend and found Nicoletta at a standstill.

It was obvious why: there was a twenty foot drop over a cliff of exposed limestone in their way, with a single knotted rope staked down at the top. He could climb down, of course. There were enough crags and handholds that he wouldn’t even need the rope. But she was another story. It was too high for her to leap, too sheer for her to scramble.

Nicoletta looked at Fex, looked at the cliff, inched up to the very edge with her front foot, and peered over it as if thinking about trying to slide down. She didn’t like what she saw, if her soft whine was any indication. She backed away from the precipice and lay down, with her head on her lone outstretched front leg.

Fex bent over, hands on his knees, and took advantage of the stop to catch his breath. “That’s a jam,” he said. Nicoletta rolled her eyes his way and flicked one ear back. Obviously, blockhead, he translated. Some communication was easier than others.

He looked around for any other way down, but there really wasn’t one. Then he eyed her. She still looked enormous, but that was if you were comparing her to a dog. And she was probably half fluff, so maybe…

“I want to climb down and back up so I can be sure about where the handholds are,” he told her. “And then, if you can stay on my back… Or… If you wanted to change to your human form I could give you my shirt, since, uh…” Since she’d be entirely naked. “But you’d have done it already and gotten down and shifted again, I’m guessing, so… ” He winced in anticipation of the rejection the suggestion would probably bring. But what else was there to do?

**

Nicoletta jumped to her feet and retreated several steps, ears flattening against her skull. He was balled up if he thought she was turning human—naked!—and either sliding down that rope or riding down the cliff on his back, with her unmentionables pressed right up against him!

Not that the idea of trying to cling to his back as a wolf was any better. Maybe there was another way down. She backed up a few more steps, then loped alongside the cliff a hundred paces. 

Limestone. It had to be limestone. It couldn’t be dirt, where she’d have a chance to dig in her claws and scale down the side. 

She trotted past Woodward in the other direction, but it was no better there. The cliff just went on and on. 

When she came trudging back Woodward was among the trees, tugging at vines as if he thought she might go hand over hand on one to the cliff bottom below. She watched him, head cocked, until he noticed she was there. He switched between one narrower vine with more leaves and then another thicker vine before he turned to her. 

“Look,” he said, “I can make a harness for you out of this.” He gestured to the thinner vine. She slicked back her ears, but he continued as if he hadn’t noticed—or didn’t know what it meant. “Then we just have to figure out what way is best to keep you secure. I’d say front paw over my shoulders, back ones on my hips might be the best balanced.”

He wasn’t wrong, but if he really thought he could scale down carrying her, he was wet. 

She whined and laid down, chin on her forepaw.

He pulled out a pocket knife, cutting through a handful of vines before sitting cross-legged facing her. While he spoke, he began twisting and tying the plants together, making them more rope-like and knotting them at various lengths. “I know you don’t like it, but I don’t see another way down. I won’t drop you, and we won’t fall. I’m… stronger than I look.”

She pointedly looked him up and down, then tried to make the closest approximation to doubt that her muzzle would allow. Mostly it was a lot of whining and grumbling.

He looked somewhere in between exasperated and lost. “I don’t know how to prove it to you except by doing it. Do you have another idea?”

For a wild moment she considered running off into the trees around them, or leaving him to continue by himself. But she couldn’t do that without repercussions any more than she could break Dunfre’s spine. 

Both thoughts were still tempting. 

Well, if they were going to try to snap all her other limbs, she’d make sure there were enough vines to take Woodward with her. She snuffled the ones he held, then trot-hopped through the underbrush until she found more. Delicately, she took them between her teeth, then twisted her head to snap them all at once, tearing the rest from their housing in the branches above. 

Head lifted and held to one side to keep from tripping, she hauled them back to Woodward and dropped them in his lap.

He glanced up at her, then blew out a little breath. She could smell the stress on him, even if it wasn’t in the smile he offered. “Thank you, Miss Nicoletta. I’ll get this braided up quick as a wink.” 

He was true to his word, even picking out the unsuitable vines that had gotten mixed in with the mouthful she’d delivered. His fingers were deft, moving and sorting greenery as easily as she might braid her own hair. 

Soon the tough little vines were the diameter of thin rope, and harder than that to chew through, she learned when she tried.

After all, if her teeth could get through it easily, so could the edges on a limestone cliff. When Woodward gave her a quelling look, she gingerly released it and set it back on the ground. 

All too soon she could see the form of a harness taking shape, as he knotted some parts together and braided others, measuring it to his own body with a look of concentration. 

She watched closely as he pulled and twisted at each strand, wanting to be as sure as she could be that it would hold her. She couldn’t sweat, but found herself panting heavily at the thought of giving control over her life to a man she’d just met. One who didn’t really look like a big-six muscle man.

This was a terrible idea. 

**

When Fex had the harness sized approximately for what they’d need, he held it up and eyeballed it against Nicoletta. She looked deeply unhappy, and possibly overheated or in pain, the way she was panting.

Well. There was still no easier way that he could see, and she had brought him additional vines, so this was probably as on board with it as she was going to be. He stood up and held the harness to demonstrate. “Once you’re secure in it, I’ll loop these straps over my shoulders and tie this one around my waist,” he said, putting the empty harness on so she could see.

He slipped it off his shoulders. “You’ll go in like this, like, uh, putting on a pair of pants but the pants aren’t there,” he said, demonstrating the construction. It bunched his trousers up rather unflatteringly, but he’d just have to apologize later if she took it wrong. 

“Then there’s a strap for your front leg,” he said, forging ahead, putting his right arm through another loop. “And then I’ll knot it in the back so you can’t slip out. And uh, put it and you on like a knapsack, like I showed you. But I need to make sure it’s really the right size for you first. So um…” He held it out to her, finally looking at her again.

She whined unhappily and actually backed away from him.

Should he make an illusion of her in it for her to see?

But she seemed to find her courage, and slunk towards him. She was panting even harder and faster, her ears were flat, and the whites of her eyes were visible, but she stepped into the harness where he showed her. He could feel her whole body trembling under his hands as he adjusted the snugness of the critical straps.

“I swear on the honor of my ancestors, I will not allow you to come to harm during this climb, Miss Nicoletta,” he told her. “Here, I’ll unfasten the harness so you won’t have to wear it while I check our route down.” 

As soon as he’d undone the key knot, she pulled herself out of the harness like it was made of live wires, and shook herself to set her fur back in order.

“I’ll take that route now,” he told her.

She edged a little closer to the cliff edge so she could see him go. He tested the knotted rope to be sure it was as securely anchored to the closest tree and strong as possible. Then just leaned back and dropped over the edge. The rope made the descent child’s play, and the ascent just as easy. Partway back up, he switched to free climbing, so Nicoletta could see he was capable of that, too.

He hauled himself over the edge and sat tailor-seated across from Nicoletta again. “Ready? We’ll cinch you on my back up here before I try to climb down, so we can be sure the harness isn’t pinching or anything.”

**

Horsefeathers, she had to put that thing back on. 

She tried to tell herself to be grateful: he’d ensured it was as safe as possible. But it was hard to feel thankful when everything in her screamed to run away. Wolves weren’t meant to be carried. Or dangled over a ravine. Or hauled anywhere. 

Another whine was impossible to stop. She paced side to side as he arranged the straps. When he was done he glanced up at her and began, “I, uh…” Then he drooped a little, shoulders rounding. “Sorry, Miss Nicoletta.” 

Warily, she stepped into the harness again, and stood tense and still while he began tying up the knots and snugging it into place. He was careful where he put his hands, though she couldn’t decide if she appreciated it or thought it was ridiculous. 

When everything was set and the harness apparently secure enough to satisfy Woodward, he turned and crouched, sliding his own arms into his part of it and then tapping his shoulder with one hand. “Put your paw—er, hand? Put it over my shoulder.”

What he intended was obvious, and even if he hadn’t expected her to hold on, she would have, anyway. With a lurch up, she hooked her right leg over his shoulder, spreading and clutching with her short toes and blunt claws. Even her stub leg got in on it, though she couldn’t do much more than wiggle it against his back. 

“All righto,” he began, “I’m going to stand now. I’ll just have to…” He started to tentatively reach back, as if he were going to carry her like a child. She didn’t give him a chance, stepping her back paws up onto his waist. Her inside nails found purchase in the band of his pants and under his belt, and it might have been entirely improper for a woman—even a wolven one—to put any body part under a man’s belt, but they were far past that now. Dying of embarrassment was preferable to dying by plummeting to the rocky ground below. 

He made some funny noises, probably due to her claws raking his skin, but she ignored them in favor of adjusting her grip. In the end she hooked her head over his shoulder rather than her absent foreleg, putting them cheek to cheek. 

He didn’t move until she finally settled. Then, with a slow exhale, he eased upward. 

Nicoletta whined, then pushed it down into a growl. She flexed her paws. She was pressed so close that when he spoke, she could practically feel it vibrate in her bones.

“Lean back against the straps. If it’s going to break, it needs to break here before we go over.”

Her twin responses—that she didn’t want to crash to the ground when it broke, and that his plan made sense—made her grumble. But she did as directed and leaned back, gingerly at first, then a little more when the vines held. 

When she arched her head as well, in a mockery of howling at the moon, she expected him to stumble. But he only braced. The muscles beneath his shirt were rock solid, clearly straining successfully against her. 

She wagged heartily to make sure sideways motion wouldn’t set him off. He handled that, too. So she wriggled. Not to get out of the harness, that wouldn’t do, but to make sure that if something went wrong and she really had to hold on, he still wouldn’t send them crashing. 

He took half a step for balance when she started, but aside from a grunt—still most likely to do with her nails—he remained put. 

She couldn’t say she was satisfied since that wouldn’t happen until she had all three feet back on the earth, but she was as close to it as she could get. She awkwardly snuffled his hair, then licked the inside of his ear. He wasn’t really her pack, but that kind of compliment was the best she could do right now. 

He went stock still for a brief moment. Then he took a slow breath and the muscles under her eased slightly. “I take it you’re ready?”

She couldn’t remember his rules about one bark or two, so she just licked his cheek and looked expectantly toward the cliff as best she could while strapped to his spine. 

Much to her dismay, he must have understood well enough, because that’s right where he headed. 

He crouched, carefully picking up the vine rope before backing toward the ledge. She swung out over it. Her grip tightened, and she pushed up slightly on his belt as if that would keep her from descending. 

It looked so much farther down than it had before. 

In the next moment they were in a controlled—fall? Leap? She just knew that Woodward wasn’t entirely vertical anymore, his feet on the limestone in front of them as he lowered them hand over hand. 

Nicoletta couldn’t stop the yelp, or the snarl she aimed toward the ground that was coming up at them so fast. The world lurched and spun, and she could hear his breath near her ear. 

Then the earth was there and his feet were on it and he was stepping back slightly. She wasted no time: two scissoring bites with her back molars and the vines split, releasing her to crash free. Jumping back up, she shook herself off, the world re-stabilizing once more. 

She ran in a tight circle, overjoyed at being safe, then play-pounced toward Woodward before running the opposite direction in a bigger circle, yipping in a way she’d deny if ever asked. She blasted past him, skidded on her back legs in a quick turn, dug in her nails and dashed toward him. At the last minute she play-pounced again and veered around, close enough to catch him with her tail. 

She dove shoulder-first into a wonderful patch of thick, tufted grass, squirming to get the scent and the coolness of it on her, then flung herself to her back and wriggled. 

Eventually, the burst of enthusiasm wore off and she lay, legs up, twisting to look at Woodward with her tongue lolling out. 

He’d gotten the harness off and held it seemingly forgotten in his hands, his eyes a touch wild. Eventually, though, the stillness gave over to a relieved huff and he came to kneel beside her. 

“Wow.” The word was a little burst of a sound. “Holy mackerel, Miss Nicoletta.” He grinned, but it was edged. No surprise there; he stank with an after-fight reek. “See, I told you I’d keep you safe. I thought for a second the harness had broken at the last minute, but then I realized you broke it on purpose and I just… Well. I can probably fix it, in case we need it again.”

She listened to his babble, head cocked. Then she rolled, snatching the harness from his hands before he had a chance to realize what she was about to do. She slammed her foreleg on it and started to pull on the piece between her teeth. 

Thought replaced impulse when Woodward shouted, “Hey!” She paused. She certainly didn’t want to need it again, but there was the possibility that they might. Who knew if the correct tools would be nearby a second time? 

She spat it out with a huff. Then turned and, because Woodward still looked so wild, licked his face thoroughly.

**

Fex’s heart raced, not from the descent, but from the terror of having a wolf that almost outweighed him, rushing and pouncing at him. 

But he’d had more than a few dogs in his life, and there was something so thoroughly doglike in Nicoletta’s behavior that he was reminded of the big Alsatian-like dogs he’d had a century ago. Watching her loll on her back like she was inviting a belly rub—if she were a woman, it would be completely scandalous, but if she were a canine—it was identical to his Chieftain.

It was ridiculous to think of Nicoletta-the-woman in the same moment that Nicoletta-the-wolf was ardently cleaning the sweat and grime from his face like a beloved pet.

And she hadn’t bitten him. Not even when she’d clearly been afraid for her life.

Fex flopped onto his back and spread his own arms wide, laughing. “Well then. Thank you, I think?” He reached a hand up and gave her shoulder a tentative pat. She responded by planting her single forefoot on his chest and continuing to lave his face with enthusiasm.

He let her go on for a moment before he reached higher to sink his fingers into her thick ruff and pet her neck. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m clean,” he laughed. “That tickles!”

She hopped off him with a hearty, cheerful huffing noise, and shook herself all over while he sat back up and ran his hands through his hair. As he glanced around, he caught sight of another of the trail marker flags, and a hint of one further along, partly obscured by foliage.

“I guess we should get back to the course,” he said. “But I’d say we’ve shown we can work together already, wouldn’t you?”

She backed up a pace or two and gave him a clear nod—oddly unsettling in her canine form, but definitely a yes—then looked up toward the trail markers. She didn’t start towards them until he’d scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off. A quick swipe of his forearm across his face was all it took to dry it.

This time, she loped along at his side instead of dashing ahead. It was almost familiar, hiking through shady hickory and maple trees, with birds singing and a hint of sunshine finally peeking from the clouds. Maybe he should get a dog again, when they were done with this training. But not if he was going to be sent on expeditions for the division. Or they were. If this “compatibility test” worked as planned, he supposed.

They stopped to admire and give a wide berth to a little black snake that was sunning itself near one of the trail flags. It didn’t look like any of the venomous ones in the area, but that didn’t mean they needed to bother it, either. The trail started climbing back uphill after a little while, but it was navigable this time, much to both his and Nicoletta’s relief. 

There were still a few scattered obstacles, as expected for an army training ground, but they weren’t as obvious as they had been at first. The worst was a wooden bridge whose planks swung loose when he’d reached the middle. It almost tumbled them both into the little ravine below it, but he caught the rope handhold and hung on, legs dangling, while Nicoletta backed off it and waited for him to rejoin her on the safe side.

They could see more yellow flags on the other side, and it was too far to jump. “There’s got to be another way across,” Fex said. “They can’t seriously think you and I are going to cross on ropes alone.”

Nicoletta gave him a long, silent look, with her nose down. It reminded Fex of a disappointed schoolteacher peering over her glasses, and he had to hold back a smile. She continued to eye him.

“This is about the harness, isn’t it?” he asked.

Her glower was a clear yes. But she let it go, and headed along to the north, nose to the ground.

“I’ll check the other way,” he told her, and headed southward, paralleling the edge of the gully. Maybe there would be a fallen log. Or a convenient axe nearby so he could fell one. That seemed so unlikely he laughed aloud, and almost missed the barbed wire strung at just the right height to take his head off. He got down on hands and knees to go under it, but there was just more wire. A planned obstacle, or the edge of the course they weren’t meant to go beyond?

“Rats.” Fex got up and headed back the way he’d come, hoping Nicoletta had found something better. Fortunately, she had. There was nothing in the world so distinctive as the howl of a wolf. This one was restrained, and ended with a little yip, but if that wasn’t a ‘come here, I’ve found something’ summons, then Fex was a monkey’s uncle.

He picked up his pace to a swift jog, and a few hundred yards beyond the broken bridge met her loping towards him. Before he could say a word of greeting she turned fully around and set off again, with just one backwards glance to be sure he was following.

What she’d found was a muddy little slide track down one side of the ravine and up the other. She launched herself down it as soon as Fex reached her side, hop-hobbling to the gully floor halfway on her haunches, bracing herself with her front leg outstretched. Fex’s descent was even less dignified than hers: he got three steps on and then gravity and loose footing took care of him, sending him down on his backside.

She eyed him skeptically when he ended his slide at her feet. Several unprintable words flicked through Fex’s mind, but he managed to limit what he said aloud to, “Cheese and crackers! Ouch.”

She cocked her head at him, waited briefly while he regained his feet and brushed the chalky mud and gravel off of his palms and pants, then headed for the other side, climbing up it in bursts. At least he wasn’t going to have to backpack her to the top. He scrambled after her on hands and feet. When they got back to the marked trail Fex eyed the broken bridge from this side. He was reasonably sure he could have hauled himself hand-over-hand along the ropes after all, but that would have meant harnessing Nicoletta up and carrying her. 

A muddy seat and a couple of bruises was probably the better deal.

She let him take the lead when the trail got narrow. A few of the landmarks Mrs. Dunfre had mentioned to look for started cropping up, so Fex proceeded slowly, searching for the hidden package they were supposed to find. The capricious spring weather had clouded up again, and a low mist clung to the ground. The hunt was starting to seem a little wearisome when he finally caught sight of a small, red canvas-wrapped bundle stashed under a rotten log. 

“Got it!” he told Nicoletta, and started towards their objective to retrieve it. Without warning, he was jerked off his feet from behind. He tumbled backwards, instantly pinned by a hundred and twenty pounds of snarling, terrifying wolf.

 **

She waited a beat to make sure he wasn’t moving, then eased her weight off him. He scrambled back, kicking leaves everywhere, hands up as if to ward her off. 

That was good. She turned to look across the ground they needed to cover. The package was almost fifteen feet away. 

Uncertainly, he called, “Miss Nicoletta?” 

She mostly ignored him, trying to pinpoint the scent she’d just barely caught. 

The scrape of his boot and the rustling sound let her track him as he stood. She flicked one ear back at him in acknowledgement. 

Footsteps. One. Then a second. Slow, hesitant. “The package is right there. At least, I think that’s it.” 

He was getting closer again. Sometimes not having a voice was a real hardship. She whirled toward him, teeth bared, fur standing, and snarled. 

He leapt backward—and vanished. Horsefeathers! She didn’t have time to track him by scent, not if what she’d smelled was what she thought she’d smelled. 

Luckily, she didn’t need to track him. An instant later she heard him; a yelp and a crash, followed by thrashing in the bushes off to her right, and his voice: “Ow! What the jahaanama was that?” 

She crept closer, slowly. The bush went wild.

“Is she a luqhi?” Woodward groaned. “Damnit.” 

She could smell traces of blood—not much—and that was enough to locate him. He was visible again, too, which was a relief. The trip wire that must have felled him was pulled partially loose and caught on his shoe. More wire and vinery tangled over and around him, and each time he moved it only got worse. 

Sometimes, she mused, not being able to laugh was a real hardship, too. 

His eyes landed on her and he went still. She tipped her head, waiting to see if he’d disappear again, but as she watched him, he watched her. 

Well, good. At least he wasn’t moving anymore. She gave a low whuff and turned back to the ground in front of the package. Lowering herself, she sniffed carefully at the earth in their path, moving her head slowly back and forth. 

There—it was… something. Something that made her lips want to curl away from her teeth and her mouth fill with saliva. Something bad. 

She moved around it slowly, noticing for the first time that the earth had been disturbed and then covered over with bracken. Just as she was starting to relax, she caught the smell again, ahead and to her left. 

Staying low, she scented that one out, found a third spot near it and went around, only to find a fourth. That was just dandy. Carefully, she placed her forepaw between them, edged her back feet closer, then stepped beyond. 

More were scattered under the loam. She kept to a cautious pace, weaving between them, finding the safest path one paw at a time. 

When the thrashing behind her stopped, she glanced back only enough to see Woodward staggering out of the brush, cutting away at the last of the thin wire with his knife. She froze, hoping she wouldn’t have to leap back toward him. 

He stood still, folding his knife away, watching her with a confused expression. Most importantly, though, he didn’t walk any closer. 

She gave him a low growl just to make sure he didn’t get any ideas, then warily swung her head around to keep picking her way through. 

Her nose was full of the nasty smell by the time she got to the bundle. She regarded it for a long moment, sniffed at the base of it just to be sure there wasn’t going to be a surprise, then carefully snagged some of the canvas and lifted. 

Whoever had wrapped it had done a good job; the whole thing came up, feeling secure. She turned, picking her way back out. Much easier, since she’d already found the path and only needed to follow her own trail. She dropped the package as soon as it was safe so she could pant heavily. 

Thank goodness she was a wolf. A woman sweating as hard as she was panting would have been impolite. 

Though she’d kept a few feet away from Woodward, he peered at her carefully. His eyes flickered from her, across the path she’d just traversed, and back. Slowly, he crouched down at arm’s length and reached for the bundle, watching her.

She backed away a step, trying to keep her face soft despite the teeth she knew showed when she panted. 

He didn’t seem to actually want the bundle, leaving it alone when she didn’t respond. A crease drew between fine, black brows, the skin around his eyes tightening a little. “It’s trapped all along there, isn’t it? Or mined?” 

Finally. She lifted her head a little and let it drop, giving the best affirmative whine she could. 

He seemed to pick it up; he relaxed a little more, arms on his knees, hands dangling between them. 

He spoke musingly, clearly not expecting an answer—which was good, because she couldn’t have if she’d wanted to. “We should probably work out some sort of way for me to know whether you’re actually about to tear my throat out.”

She stopped panting to stare at him, then, as clearly as she possibly could, rolled her eyes so dramatically that her nose went along with it. Never mind the fairy tales; she wasn’t a monster. A puppy would have known that. 

“Fine,” Woodward said, sharper than anything he’d said so far. “Forgive me for not knowing the difference between a bared-teeth death threat and a…” He waved his hands, clearly exasperated. “What? ‘Wait here a second’?”

She flicked her ears sideways, unimpressed at being lectured—even if maybe she’d been a little rude a few times—and refused to meet his gaze. 

It was only because she was looking back down the trail that she saw someone struggling their way up. He saw her and waved, nearly tripped, then waved again. She growled, too low for the man downwind to hear, so that Woodward would look. 

“Mr. Woodward,” the man called, all smiles. Then he looked at Nicoletta and uncertainly began, “And, uh, Miss… Uh…” He looked back at Woodward. “Mr. Woodward. We have a car for you both right this way. Our compliments on finishing the course. I think Mrs. Dunfre is rather im— well, I should let her tell you, of course.” He beamed at Woodward.

Nicoletta considered growling at him, just because she could. 

“Nicoletta.”

She looked up, surprised, but Woodward wasn’t talking to her. Instead, he was giving the soldier an unimpressed, flat look. He continued, “Her name is Miss Nicoletta. And I hope you have some water in that car of yours.”

The soldier blanched. “Uh, yes—yes, Sir. Mr. Woodward. And, uh, Miss Nicoletta. This way.” As he struck off he turned back and said in a harsh whisper a child fifteen feet away would have heard, “So she can actually understand us?”

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