Wolfbreed (35 page)

She built up elaborate excuses for herself. Her master had told her that there was to be no killing before it was time, so she really shouldn’t have killed him. Her master had also said that she wasn’t to be seen by anyone in the village, but Uldolf wasn’t
in
the village when he came to her.

Uldolf had been right, she
was
stupid. She should have killed him. Everything her master told her was for the purpose of keeping the village from knowing she was here.

She crouched in front of her kill, tearing large strips of flesh free from the leg of the calf, her muzzle sticky with old blood as she devoured the slick length of muscle. Around her, the moonlight-dappled woods were silent except for the sound of her own chewing. Even with the air rank with elk blood, she could tell that most of the animals had given her and her meal a wide berth.

If Uldolf came to her now, there wouldn’t be a choice, would there? She had shown her real face to enough people, pagan and Christian, to smell the fear she caused. Even in her master.

Would he give you cheese now?

Lilly stopped eating, because she didn’t like the way that thought made her feel. The other’s voice was becoming more and more forceful lately, cold and angry. She didn’t understand why, after leaving the horror of her first master. She crouched and lifted the remains of the elk, climbing up and dragging the remains after her into the tree.

She dropped to the ground, and spent a few long moments licking the blood off her fur. She needed to be as clean as possible before she retrieved her carefully folded clothes from the rock where she had placed them before she ate.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” she whispered, staring at her hairy forelimb and the clawed hand she’d been cleaning.

That was it, of course. That realization was what allowed her to be true to her master. Uldolf didn’t know she wasn’t human. Uldolf had seen nothing of fur, fang, or claw. What could he tell the villagers in Mejdân? Only that he met a girl in the woods who knew nothing of cheese.

Even better, now that she thought about it, she really
shouldn’t
kill Uldolf. After all, a dead boy would certainly be more alarming to the people of Mejdân than anything Uldolf might say. Lilly looked up at the night sky through the leaves, and smiled as much as her lupine muzzle allowed.

e isn’t coming
.

Lilly tried to push the thought away even before she knew whose thought it was. The echo of it kept taunting her as she sat on the black, moss-covered log overlooking Mejdân. She had come here in the early dawn, after waking. She had actually run here, afraid he might come before she arrived.

And here she was, and the sun kept creeping higher in the sky.

For some reason, she remembered the man who had sung to Rose in the monastery, and how severely her old master had corrected him.

Could her old master have found Uldolf?

If you care
, her other voice told her,
you only hurt yourself
.

“I don’t care,” she whispered, wiping her eyes.

Lilly tried to think of the pagans of Mejdân and what she would do to them. How she would bring the vengeance of God down upon them, and how pleased her master would be.

“Hello, Lilly.”

She spun around. “Uldolf?”

There he was, wearing the same clothes, carrying the same bundle over his shoulder. “Were you waiting for me?”

“N-no. Not long.”

He smiled. “I’m glad I found you.”

Lilly stood up, brushing leaves from her clothes. Then she noticed that she had blood under her nails, so she hid her hands behind her back. “Why?”

Uldolf shrugged. “I don’t have many friends. My dad’s the chief, so they don’t like playing with me.”

Lilly didn’t understand what he was saying. She knew the words
friend, chief
, and
play
, but she couldn’t interpret Uldolf’s sentence in any way that made sense to her. She didn’t want him to call her stupid again, so she just repeated the words back at him.

“They don’t like playing with you?”

“Well, my dad bosses around their dads, and they think I want to boss them around. If I tell them I want to do something, everyone will want to do something different. I end up alone a lot.”

The last bit Lilly understood. “I’m alone a lot, too.”

“Hey, want me to show you something fun?”

Lilly hesitated a moment, then said, “Yes, show me.”

hey stood in the middle of a shallow creek bed, cool water bubbling over their ankles. The creek ran along the floor of a ravine whose walls receded ahead, the creek branching at the base of an ancient moss-covered oak whose limbs stretched an emerald canopy over a hidden pool. The pool reflected shards of blue and green so intense that it hurt her eyes. The air was alive with the sound of rushing water, chirping frogs, and singing birds. She smelled the earthy moss, blooming plants, and over it all the coolness of the water.

For several moments, all Lilly could do was stare.

“You like it?” Uldolf asked.

“It’s beautiful.”

Uldolf walked up to the oak and leaned against a giant boulder next to it, as tall as he was. “I love this place.”

To her surprise, Uldolf set his bundle on top of the boulder, barely within reach, then scrambled up the side of the rock. He stood up on top of it and grabbed one of the lower branches with both hands. Then he swung his legs and pulled himself up.

“What are you doing?”

“This tree is great for climbing,” he said as he started scrambling up, branch by branch.

Lilly thought of the tree where the elk hung.

He knows. He’s taunting you
.

“Come back down.”

“You come up.”

“What?”

“Come on up here.”

Lilly balled her hands into fists. “What if I don’t want to?”

“I told you I was going to show you something fun.” Uldolf looked down from a dizzying height. “You aren’t scared, are you?”

If you pounce and dig the claws in …

Lilly shook her head. Uldolf still had no idea what she was, and as long as he didn’t, she wouldn’t have to kill him. She looked up and said, “I’m not scared.” The way her voice shook made her a liar. “But how did you get up there?”

She almost added, “Without any claws?”

“Just climb up the rock. There’s a good foothold about halfway up.”

As she approached the rock, Lilly tried to remember what Uldolf had done. Things like this were so much easier when she was in her real form. She had never thought of attempting anything like it in this weak little body. How could her pink clawless fingers pull her up a tree?

The first few moments were embarrassing, her feet slipping all over the base of the rock. She was tensed, ready for Uldolf to call her stupid again.

“You can do it,” Uldolf called down to her. It sounded as if he actually believed it.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Why should the furry one get all the fun?”

“What?” Uldolf called down.

Lilly didn’t answer. She felt around until her fingers found a good grip on the bumpy top surface of the boulder. She surprised herself with how easily she could pull herself on top of the rock.

On her knees, on top of the boulder, she looked at her fleshy pink hands and said, “Maybe they’re not so useless.”

“That was great,” Uldolf called down to her. “Now just pull yourself up on that branch.”

Lilly looked up at the knobby limb reaching over her head and smiled.

She leapt at the branch as if she
was
a wolf. But, instead of trying to dig nonexistent claws into it, she wrapped her arms around it and swung her leg up over it. In a moment, she sat straddling the branch.

She exhaled and laughed. “See? I don’t need claws to do it.”

From above her, Uldolf called down, “That was great!”

She looked up at him, flushed, breathing heavy, suddenly afraid he would ask something uncomfortable about claws. But apparently he hadn’t heard her.

“Come on up.” He motioned her up to the branch where he was sitting, above the water. It suddenly didn’t seem that far. She leapt up and grabbed the branch above her and swung around. Then she did it again. She was laughing louder with each jump.

All her masters, all her keepers, always talked about what the furry one could do. That was what made her special, worthy of attention. That was the part she had to hide, that was the part that could do things—awesome, bloody, violent things. No one had told her that this body, the form she shared with Christian and pagan, was capable of anything—and certainly not
this
.

She dangled from a branch, allowing her legs to sweep through empty air. Her heart raced as the trees rocked back and forth around her, the ground so far below. If she let go, it seemed that she might fall forever.

“Hey, Lilly. Down here!”

She looked down and saw Uldolf looking up at her. She had become so involved in climbing that she had crawled nearly twice again as high as he was. He grinned up at her.

She dangled and looked down at him. Maybe it wasn’t a trick. Maybe he was a friend. She let go and fell to a lower limb, then jumped down twice more to get to Uldolf’s branch.

“Wow, I never saw anyone climb that well!”

Lilly caught her breath and said, “Really?”

“I never had the guts to go all the way up there.” He looked up at the branch where Lilly had been dangling.

“See?” Lilly said. “I’m not afraid.” She was no longer lying.

“Great. Then let me show you the best part.” He stood up, grabbing a higher branch for balance. After steadying himself, he let go and pulled his linen shirt off over his head. He tied it up into a ball and tossed it back down toward the boulder. He did the same thing with his shoes. Then he started taking off his breeches.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Lilly thought of carefully removing her own clothes before she changed. Could he be like her?

Uldolf tossed the rest of his clothes down so that they fell on the ground by the boulder. Naked, he said, “I don’t want to get my clothes wet.”

He walked carefully out along the branch. Then he jumped.