Shell relaxed. It was going better than expected.
Camilla flashed a smile, then without dropping it, asked quickly before he had time to think, “Tell me about your wolf.”
Her subterfuge worked. Shell was caught off guard again. “We met as I left the grasslands. She’s not mine. She just stayed with me for a few days. Followed along.”
Henry perked up and said, “Hey, I thought you said it was a cross-breed for herding your sheep.”
“I stretched the truth.”
Camilla said, “She’s out there guarding us right now, isn’t she? That’s why you allow such a big fire tonight, and you don’t seem to care that others might spot her.”
“Yes.” The single word seemed enough.
She eyed him, shifted to look at Henry, and then back to Shell. “You know of Raymer and what happened near my village with the animal?”
“I do.”
“Is the story of your wolf similar?”
She was speaking about the story in vague terms because of Henry. But Shell understood exactly what she was saying. Raymer and his dragon had bonded near Bear Mountain. Shell said, “Similar. I’m not sure how much. It is different, but sort of the same, I think.”
“Your wolf saved my life.”
With sudden inspiration, Shell said, “Would the two of you like to meet her?”
Henry perked up, looking from the fire and nodding vigorously as he said, “I would.”
“Me too,” Camilla added, more cautiously. “What’s her name?”
She does not have a name. Someday I must correct that. He called, “Wolf. Come here.”
At the same time, he reached out and touched the mind of the wolf. Already sensing the instruction, she had moved closer, as if anticipating his call. After a short time, the wolf trotted from the darkness and moved nearer the fire, her amber eyes reflecting the flames as it moved. The molted browns and blacks of her coat made her almost invisible until she stood just out of reach.
Shell noted the few white hairs that blended into the others, the height of the animal, the intelligence she projected, and the massive feet she stood upon. He also noted that no trace of the blood of the two men she had ripped apart only a few steps from where they sat remained.
Henry scooted closer to her and placed a hand on the wolf’s flank, stroking her softly. “What’s her name?”
“Wolf.”
“She needs a name,” Henry said.
“I know, I just thought that,” Shell said. “But we’ve only been together a few days, and I haven’t had time to name her, let alone to know if she’s going to stay with me.”
“I’ll name her,” Henry said. “Please let me do it.”
The entire conversation at the campfire was going so much better than expected; Shell didn’t want to ruin the mood. “Okay.”
“Pudding!” Henry laughed.
“Pudding?” Camilla asked, the laughter clear in her tone.
Henry said, “That’s what my mother called me, and my name until a few days ago. I’m giving the wolf my old name since I have a new one.”
“Hold on,” Shell began.
But Camilla clapped her hands together with an evil glint in her eye and interrupted. “Pudding. I think it fits her perfectly. What a wonderful gift to give her your old name. Thank you, Henry.”
The obvious thing for Shell to do was shut up, and he did. He now had a companion called Pudding, and there was no changing that. He touched the mind of the wolf to apologize and found her happy and content. If she was a cat, she would be purring as Henry stroked her flank. Then the wolf edged closer to the boy and laid down so Henry could place an arm over her shoulder and scratch her head with his fingers.
A man can ask the sun to refuse to rise the next day, but chances are the request will be denied. Shell felt much the same about the new name. He could request a change, but it wouldn’t happen, and even the wolf seemed to like it.
Camilla said, “Pudding tracked me? That’s how you knew where I was?”
Shell didn’t miss the emphasis she placed on the wolf’s name or the sly grin she tried to hide. “Yes. Myron gave me one of your old shirts for her to catch your scent.”
“You could have just tracked me.”
“I grew up in the grasslands and seldom saw a tree. Besides, I stayed home and herded my animals, so I am not a tracker or much of a woodsman.”
Camilla said, “Can you fight?”
“With my staff, which I left at Henry’s farm when we left in a hurry.”
“You and I will find a pair of staffs and practice. Now, tell me about why you had to leave in such a hurry. I suppose it has to do with his bruises?” Camilla sat back and waited.
Shell told the story quickly and without any mention of the small red dragon. In her eyes, he saw she had more questions, but she smartly refrained from asking, especially after he told them about the wolf’s part in the fight, and that the house had caught fire, but he never mentioned going near the house. He stressed the part about the boy lying in the mud, beaten and bleeding, and how they intended to beat him, as well.
Henry said, “Pudding saved us. There were five of them waiting to beat you, and I wondered how you did it.”
Shell let his eyes flick to the heavens while Camilla hopefully caught his signal of a dragon flying in the air. “Yes. Something like that.”
Camilla seemed to understand what was not said. “Pudding found the road that leads from here to a village or town?”
“And a ravine where the dead bodies were tossed. There are at least ten, but she wouldn’t go there because of the smell.”
“We should bury them,” Henry said.
Neither of them asked the obvious question about how the wolf communicated the information. Camilla probably guessed because she knew of dragon-bonding. Henry didn’t think to question ‘how' they did it. Shell closed his eyes, thinking fast to prevent the questions from being asked, as he remembered the stench of rotting flesh in other circumstances. He said, “That would be the proper thing, but I think we should leave them as they are in case the proper authorities can identify any of them. There may be other reasons, too, things. The sheriff or constable will want to discover. I think it’s best we leave them alone, for now.”
Camilla nodded in agreement. Henry was soon lost in petting and grooming the wolf. He picked sticker from the fur, and a tick, throwing whatever he found in the heavy fur coat onto the fire. The wolf’s emotions were calm and contented for the first time since Shell had encountered it.
Camilla abruptly stood and went to the small table where the valuable belongings were. After pausing there, she entered the cabin briefly, blew out the two candles and returned with a pair of sturdy boots. “These should fit you, Henry. Try them on.”
He accepted the pair of well-made boots and looked at her in confusion.
She pursed her lips and said, “Listen to me. They’ll probably burn everything here, including the cabin. They will want to erase this as if it never happened. Make good use of the boots.”
“They are not mine, they belong to one of the dead,” Henry protested, looking at them as if tainted, or if he was committing a social blunder.
“They did belong to one of them, a dead person who you are trying to help identify so that person’s friends and relatives will know what happened. I’m certain the dead appreciates your efforts and would freely give you the boots if he was able.” Camilla gave one brief nod at the end of her statement, telling Henry to put them on and stop being silly.
Shell had not noticed the too-tight, worn out boots the boy wore. His little toe stuck out a hole on each foot, and the soles were almost nonexistent. Shell nodded his agreement when Henry looked at him.