They played like that for a few minutes, then the wolf left the mouse and that meadow and continued exploring. It was not hungry, didn’t kill for sport, and the entirety of the actions gave Shell the impression the wolf was either younger than he had believed, or still immature.
“Something funny?” Henry asked.
Shell realized he had been smiling at the antics of the wolf. After shaking his head, he sat and reconsidered the incident. It was telling in more ways than age. The wolf killed to eat. It also played for fun. But Shell was thinking in terms of a bond with dragons. What had he actually seen in his mind? Impressions that he interpreted, or what the wolf told him? More importantly, had he watched the mouse through the eyes of the wolf?
He decided he hadn’t. Recalling the incident was as if a descriptive story had been told, but not with the same detail as looking at the scene. It was not what he’d seen, but what he hadn’t. He hadn’t seen the kind of grass the field mouse was hopping in, the color or texture of the dirt, or the background of shrubs and bushes. What had been in his mind was like a moving painting of a cute mouse, big ears, and eyes, and unlike any painting, it moved.
Shell found himself swallowing hard with understanding, and his mood improving. He didn’t like wolves or hadn’t in the past. They had been one of the enemies of his flocks his whole life and the idea of bonding with one turned his stomach, but perhaps it shouldn’t. However, changing his lifelong attitude of protecting his flock from the likes of the wolf wouldn’t be that easy.
The thought about bonding made him think again about bonding with the red dragon. He couldn’t feel it tingling on his back anymore. It must have departed at dawn and flew on, but he didn’t know which direction. It had been there during the night and now was gone.
But he could tell where the wolf was, and it now explored in the direction they had already traveled. He pictured the wolf following their trail part of the way back to the valley where Henry’s farm was, searching for anyone following them. He received an instantaneous reply that translated to already did that last night.
He shot back, do it again.
If they were going to follow Henry, they might have waited until the rain quit. Shell waited for the wolf to refuse or confirm, but neither happened. It simply changed its direction and explored further on their back trail.
Henry said, “Sometimes you blank out like you’re asleep with your eyes open.”
The observation warned Shell to be more cautious when communicating with the animal, especially when around others. “Yes, I know. Just a bad habit.”
Henry finished eating, then immediately went back to sleep. As the wolf predicted, the rain held off, and no one seemed to be following them. The Smithson family probably hoped never to see him again.
Shell found that he too was tired. He went to sleep after placing a few larger logs on the fire. Yesterday had been hard mentally and physically. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it had been on Henry.
When he woke, the sun had come out; the clouds were mostly gone, and the day warm. A single glance at the position of the sun told him he’d slept most of the day, and if he didn’t stand, he might sleep the rest, then stay awake all night.
His morose mood had evaporated as he slept. The same things he’d lamented over earlier, the small dragon, the wolf, and Henry, all took on a different, more pleasant light. How many of the Dragon Clan even knew a tiny, adult, red dragon existed, let alone one that shadowed them? Who else had a wolf that touched their mind as a companion? And the incident at the farm in the valley also changed in his perception. He had managed to sell the farm to a family that needed room to grow, saved a boy from almost certain death, and righted a few wrongs in the process.
He built up the fire up again and considered catching more fish, but decided venison would be better. Too many fish meals left him wanting something else to eat. The heat from the sun soaked into his clothing warmed his skin. As he stood, the kinks and tight muscles worked themselves out.
Henry woke and started to sit. The swelling on his face was less, but the bruises darker. He too seemed in a good mood and worked his way to balance on a knee before standing on shaky legs. He went into the bushes to relieve himself.
Shell went to the edge of the river and sat on the same flat rock he’d used before. Feet tucked under him, he watched the ripples on the water and allowed the pleasant mood and quiet of the campsite with the ripple of the river for background, to soothe him. Henry came and sat near him, saying nothing but moving far better than any time since the beating. The decision to rest for a day had been the right one.
Shell said, “Anything you want to share?”
“Just how lucky I am that you came along.”
“Funny. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to meet you and to be able to help.”
“I’m the one needing you.”
“Maybe both of us needed something back there.” Shell flashed a smile and drew in a long relaxing breath.
Danger. The word leaped into his mind as sharp as if a bee stung him. It came from the wolf. Shell instantly thought of the Smithson family following them seeking revenge, but the wolf corrected him. The girl.
Camilla. The wolf was talking about Camilla. Not that she was causing him danger, but telling him she was in danger.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Camilla in danger? During his sleep, the wolf had ranged far ahead to where Shell intended to travel and must have come across her scent again. He imagined that the wolf found more of the red leaves within the green ones. But how did it know of danger? And what kind?
The wolf was far ahead, nearly a full day’s walk from them. He tried to formulate a question of what the wolf perceived as a danger. In return, he understood the wolf had found her scent many times, always heading due west and had never communicated anything similar.
Now the wolf followed her scent again, and she had abruptly turned to travel north instead of west. For Shell that did not indicate danger, simply a change in course. A mountain in her path, a river too wide to wade across, or even a settlement she wanted to skirt around would all account for her changing direction.
The wolf repeated, danger. It went on to communicate there were two men now with her. Again, that didn’t mean danger. The wolf grew irritated and frustrated at Shell’s lack of understanding. It sent another impression, one of Camilla’s old scents, the other her new scent. The wolf managed to turn a single red leaf into flaming orange.
Shell understood. The wolf followed red leaves, which were her scent, but now the red had changed to orange, which meant she was scared and the wolf detected the fear in what it smelled. He was on his feet, estimating the remaining light in the day.
If they waited, they couldn’t reach where she departed her trail by this time tomorrow. Who knew how far away she would be, then? If he stood any chance of catching up, he needed to leave now.
“We need to go.”
Henry looked at him as if puzzled, then making up his mind, said, “I’ll get my things.”
No questions. No argument. They started out within minutes. Shell pictured the trek ahead and realized that rushing to where she turned north was not required. He didn’t have to follow her footsteps. He formed a triangle in his mind. She followed one leg of the triangle until she turned north. He could cut across country to intercept Camilla, taking the long leg of the triangle cutting off a good portion of the trip.