“Not far.”
“What is the difficulty between here and there?”
“Nothing.”
“If you head back now, is there time to cross that rubble before dark?”
Buck nodded, then said, “Myron told me to take you to the road.”
“Tell Myron I want to search for red leaves before the scent fades, and they turn green. He’ll understand.”
Buck shrugged and turned to leave. Then he called, “Take care of Camilla.”
By the time Shell attempted to explain that he was not chasing after Camilla, Buck had disappeared. He waited, just in case, eventually seeing Buck climb over the rocks and boulders on his way back to the village. Shell settled down on a log and pulled the cheese and hard bread from his pack, as well as the shirt belonging to Camilla.
He sniffed it. The smell was earthy and perfumed faintly with the scent of flowers. He glanced around. The only trail leading to the village fanned out from this point, so the best place to track Camilla would be here. Otherwise, she might take a path to the north while he went south. By beginning here, he would be certain to start the trip behind her and on the same path.
Shell found the location where the wolf resided in his mind. The animal seemed to wait for his call. He sensed it ahead a hundred steps away, just off the path he would walk. Come here.
A feeling of reluctance filled him, but even as he understood the reaction and attempted to overcome it, the wolf drew nearer. Shell tried to identify another word. Pack.
The wolf came into sight and stopped. She was only ten steps ahead, but from the mental image Shell felt, wouldn’t come closer. She remained on her feet, her eyes fixed on him. Slowly and carefully so he didn’t startle the wolf, Shell tossed the shirt, so it landed near the wolf, but off to one side.
Her nose wrinkled, then she moved closer and sniffed the shirt several times. Her head came up, and she turned away, pointing in the direction they had been traveling. Shell felt an image or compulsion in his mind that told him to follow. Shell picked up the shirt and rolled it tightly, so it didn’t lose more scent in case he needed it again, and then hurried after the wolf.
The wolf loped ahead a hundred paces and waited for Shell almost to catch up, then moved ahead again. Shell began jogging for half the distance and walking fast for the rest. They continued that way until nearly dark. From the directions he’d been provided, Shell thought he was getting close to the road, but decided to remain for the night beside a small stream.
The wolf paced and circled the location as if agitated they were stopping. It wished to continue the hunt. Shell tried to project the idea that the low clouds prevented enough light to see the ground well enough to walk, let alone to continue walking under the trees. Shell spread his blanket and ate cold hard bread and slurped water from the stream, but made a cold camp to make sure the fire was not spotted. Besides, he wanted to sleep. The emotions and travel of the last few days had worn him out.
As the first streaks of pink touched the morning sky, the wolf entered his campsite and nuzzled him. Shell tried to roll over and return to sleep until his eyes opened. Startled, he found himself facing a creature that weighed more than him. The wolf’s head almost reached his chest when he was standing, now it towered over him. He leaped to his feet to defend himself. The wolf opened her mouth to yawn. The teeth looked longer than his little finger.
It was only the second-time Shell saw more than fleeting glimpses of the animal, and seeing it upon waking the first thing in the morning was terrifying. The wolf was a very large female with golden eyes that gleamed with intelligence. The paws spread as wide as his hand. The overall impression was of youth and leanness. And power.
The wolf wanted to chase down the scent of the human they followed. It relayed its impatience that Shell slept away the morning instead of joining it in the hunt.
The last information came as another impression, and Shell realized that if he spoke with Myron again about the wolf, he would change some of his previous answers and impressions. Definitely, the wolf communicated, and it knew that daylight approached, and she wanted to leave to pursue her prey. All of that showed intelligence. Carefully, with more than a little fear, Shell reached for his backpack and rolled up his blanket, his eyes on the animal that sat and watched him, as if urging him to hurry. She waited patiently, her fur rippling in the morning breeze.
When Shell had everything ready, the wolf stood and trotted ahead. She never glanced behind to see if Shell followed, and Shell wondered if she could sense him, the same way as he knew her location. The wolf remained out of sight, moving quickly, but waiting for Shell when he fell behind. They reached the road as the sun first appeared over the mountains, and a feeling of warning overcame Shell. He paused, the sensation new to him, but caution was not.
A powerful horse with enormous hooves pulled a wagon along the dirt road, loaded with small logs. A farmer sat on top of the load, a hat drooping over his eyes. That’s odd. Firewood can be found close to most farms. The logs were intended for something else, maybe fence posts from wood, resistant to rot. Where did that thought come from?
Shell watched as the wagon rumbled past as he wondered if the last thoughts about rotting fence posts were his or the wolf’s. So far, there had only been impressions and vague images exchanged, but if the animal was smart enough to wake him at dawn to continue his journey, all bets were off over how smart she was.
He waited until the wagon rolled down the road. He darted across and into the thick underbrush on the other side before any other traveler came into view. A path carried him deeper into the forest, and when the path forked, he took the one to the left without pausing because he could sense the wolf had gone in that direction.
With the wolf watching his rear, both flanks, and ahead, he ran until winded and then walked, estimating he traveled twice the distance of a careful traveler like Camilla. The wolf would warn him of any danger, so he concentrated on speed. While he saw no sign of her passing, he didn’t expect to, not until the following day. The land they crossed became more rugged, the hills taller and steeper, the soil wetter, and the trees larger. At times, he felt he traveled in tunnels.
His thoughts returned to the girl ahead that he had never met, but he recalled the stories of her living and surviving by herself as a wildling. The King’s Weapon-master and Sword-master had followed her, and the son of the Earl himself came to her rescue. Since that escape over four years ago, the Earl of Princeton died in a carriage accident with two of his consorts, and his son assumed his inherited position.
The stories said the new Earl called Edward, who also supported the Dragon Clan without being obvious about it. He worked behind the scenes, and behind the back of King Ember, for the benefit of the Dragon Clan. Old laws were quietly repealed, new ones passed, and those things were the direct result of the one little girl called Camilla.
Even Myron had mentioned at least four others this year who had gone to the Bear Mountain Family in hopes of winning her attention, but Shell simply wanted to meet her. He expected to be rebuffed as a suitor, but hoped to find a woman of the Dragon Clan who wished to become his wife. Several young women at Bear Mountain had caught his eye, and dark haired beauty seemed particularly interested in him. Shell allowed the thoughts to fill his thinking as he walked and ran, letting them pass the time as he tried to sort them out.
How much can the wolf, hear and understand about my private thoughts? The idea snapped into his mind like a tree falling on his head. For the first time, he felt violated. He hadn’t asked for the wolf to invade his mind, didn’t understand and approve of the animal knowing his innermost thoughts.