Page 8 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

Ignoring my attempted assistance, she gives me a glare fiery enough to rival the flames of the Hells. “Flattery will get you nowhere but at the end of one of my blades.” Gripping the horse’s mane, she swings her leg over its back and gracefully lands beside me.

“You mean these blades?” I purr, sensually running two fingers along the leather strap across my chest.

“You motherfu–”

“Eh eh eh,” I chide, cutting off the insult. “Be nice, or I just might be inclined to keep them.”

“Oh, I’ll show you nice, alright.” With a guttural snarl, Mariane launches herself at me, startling me enough that she’s able to tackle me to the ground.

Wincing at the way the crossed swords dig into my spine, I mutter, “If you wanted me on my back for you, all you had to do was ask.”

Shaking hands grip the collar of my shirt on either side of my neck. “If you value your life, I suggest you drop the cocky attitude.” With a growl rumbling in her own throat, she lowers her voice and sneers, “I’m growing sick and tired of all the flirtatious bullshit you keep tossing my way. The obviously insincere flirtation, I might add.”

Frowning deeply, I hold my hands to the side in a show of surrender as an intense wave of guilt washes over me. “I’m sorry, Mariane. Truly.” Lowering my eyes to the forest floor beside my head, I mutter, “I didn’t realize… I should’ve known after what happened earlier tonight that you wouldn’t appreciate…” Somehow, I manage to force my gaze back to hers. “Apologies. I shall do my best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable while in my presence from here on out.”

Mariane sighs, her grip on my shirt collar loosening. “You did nothing wrong, not really. It’s just been a rough day for me, is all. Normally I’d…” She trails off, yellow-tinted eyes darting down to where our hips are tightly pressed together. Her cheeks begin to redden, and she abruptly rises back to her feet. Clearing her throat, she holds a hand out to me and mutters, “Sorry… For attacking you.”

Grasping Mariane's offered hand, I climb back to my own feet with a small groan. “No apology from you is necessary. I deserved it.” Shrugging out of the dual scabbard, I hold the swords out to her. “Here.”

She slowly takes the blades from my hand, squinting suspiciously. “Thank you.” Glancing behind us at the horse still standing patiently nearby, she says, “I’m glad your horse isn’t easily spooked, I would hate for us to have to walk all the way to…” She trails off, giving me a meaningful look.

Chuckling softly, I walk over and pet the animal’s sweat soaked neck. “Not my horse, for starters. I’m just borrowing him without permission, never to be returned. As for our destination…” I tap the pocket containing the bounty notice. “I think you know the answer to that question already.”

Sliding the scabbard’s straps onto her own shoulders, Mariane sighs. “Right. Of course.” The beautiful woman gives me a pained look. “Is there any chance I could…dissuade you from that?”

That look. It rattles me in ways I haven’t felt in a long time. Against my better judgement, I ask, “Why? What exactly is it that you’re running from?”

“My father, he…” She lowers her eyes to her dirt-stained boots, crossing her arms tightly around herself. Her voice begins to shake as she sneers, “He offered my hand in marriage as part of an ongoing political alliance.” She exhales an equally shaky breath. “I was to marry the king’s son, Prince Garin.”

It takes a bit of effort not to laugh. Not a princess, she says. Sure sounds like she’s a princess to me. And yet… When her gorgeous golden eyes lock onto mine again, the storm raging in them is anything but humorous.

No. The look on her face now is downright blood-thirsty.

Chapter Four

Mariane

Vannaria appears to be about to respond to my confession, but then her eyes dart back in the direction of the town we’d left behind. Tilting her head so her long ear is pointed towards whatever she must’ve heard, she whispers, “Speaking of running… Do you remember that giantkin woman I mentioned a while ago?” At my nod, she takes a slow careful step towards me, gesturing with her head towards the horse at her back. “Get on.”

Realizing that the other mercenary must be on our trail, I shake my head, taking my own careful step further from Vannaria. Keeping my voice as low as I’m able to as well, I say, “Vannaria. Do not freak out at what I’m about to do.”

Without waiting for her agreement, I shrug off my swords, rip my shirt over my head and undo the ties of my skirt, allowing it to fall into a pool of fabric at my feet. Smirking in amusement at her wide-eyed and mouth-gaping expression, I drop onto all fours and inhale deeply.

As I slowly exhale, I begin shifting into my wolven form for the first time since running away from my father’s home nearly two years ago. My muscles burn and the bones beneath ache in protest as they rearrange themselves. I grit my teeth before losing the ability to when my jaw reflexively falls open as it stretches into a snout. The transformation that used to be near instantaneous for me lasts several agonizingly long moments. But when it’s over…

I feel a sense of freedom I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Long tongue lolling out of my mouth, I ignore the lingering pain and trot over to Vannaria, planting my hindquarters on the ground beside her awful smelling boots. Forcing a sneeze to rid myself of some of the initial stench, I look up at her, praying she’ll understand my unspoken request for her to play along. Hopefully, I won't regret not taking the time to explain my plan first.

She proves herself a smart woman when she drops down onto her knee, and whispers, “Well would ya look at that. Guess we don’t need to keep running after all. Do we?” When I shake my head, she grins mischievously. “Hmm. I’ll need a name to call you though, in case anyone asks.” She taps a long finger against her chin. “Aha. Got it. Amara it is.”

To my extreme annoyance, I don’t hate the nickname. Until I’m given a painful reminder of how much harder it is to control my physical reactions in this form as my tail begins wagging. Forcing it to still, I let out a huff.

Vannaria reaches out in an attempt to pet me on the top of the head, her grin stretching into an unfairly attractive smile. I snap my jaws at the offending appendage which only makes her smile widen. And just like that, I find myself wishing I could wipe it from her face. Permanently. Courtesy of a blade between the ribs from my sheer annoyance at her never-ending cockiness.

Once again, she opens her mouth to say something more, then whips her head towards the sound of a branch snapping a little ways off in the woods. One that in this form I’m able to hear as well.

Letting out a low whine, I point my muzzle at the horse next to us.