Chapter 23 #2
He secured the cloak, and they were plunged into the dark.
The chariot began moving, and Danik’s fingers tightened over hers, weaving between them.
Veru leaned back against his chest, and she felt him finally relax.
They were warned to close their eyes, and when she did, Danik pressed his cheek against hers.
She felt the rough stubble of his jaw and loved the sensation so much she turned her head just a bit so her nose and lips came into contact with his skin.
She inhaled deeply and found she loved the scent of him.
It was different from when she was a tiger.
There was the lingering fragrance of the soap he’d recently used and the tang of woodsmoke and snowy pine that always clung to him, but there was also something .
. . primal. It was very difficult to describe.
As a tiger, she’d hunted things with velvet skins, fur coats, and leather jackets.
Beneath the outer layer, she’d find pulsing life that could sustain her.
She wasn’t particularly hungry, but if she didn’t know better, she’d think she wanted to rip into Danik’s jugular like one of the wolves who’d once stalked him.
The impulse was almost to the point where she had to bite back the growl developing at the back of her throat.
Veru could almost taste his pounding pulse at the base of his neck. Her breath quickened.
Their bodies rose in the air as the white horse galloped along the dawn highway, and Veru let out a soft gasp and whispered Danik’s name.
He grabbed on to her head and hip, trying to shield her from hurting herself when they fell.
Veru shifted in his arms, angling toward him even more.
Her mouth moved to the corner of his, and she couldn’t help it.
Her tongue flicked out for a taste. He froze, his fingers flexing on her hip as if he were uncertain about what to do.
Then his hand slipped into her hair and around her waist, wrenching her to him fiercely as his mouth found hers. He kissed her deeply, drunkenly, passionately, and then they crashed down, hard, and broke apart suddenly.
“We’re back!” came the shout from the knight, and Veru could have wished a pox upon the man in that moment despite how much she liked him. “You can open your eyes again,” he said.
Veru didn’t want to, but she did. Danik was still near.
It wasn’t like he could escape her in the confines of the small chariot, but she could still sense the growing distance between them.
He regretted what had just happened. She knew it.
The arms that had held her a moment before with such passion and intensity were now iron bars keeping her locked away.
Ah, she thought, still drunk from the moist heat of his kiss.
This tiger has had a tantalizing taste of flesh and wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon.
She pondered this and sat quietly, waiting for the white knight to remove the cloak.
When he did, she took his offered hand and stepped out of the chariot, watching as he and Danik positioned the barrel on the summer porch.
“Spasibo,” she said to the knight when the task was complete. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It is I who must thank you,” he said in return with a courtly bow. Then he took her hand and placed a warm kiss upon it before turning it over and gifting her with his little mirror.
Veru gasped. “Surely you don’t mean to give us your means of transport. This is how you and your horse sustain yourselves.”
She tried to give the token back, but he refused.
“Please. Keep it. Like you, we will fight or perish. The time has come to make a stand. Perhaps all I needed was a reminder of what a valiant heart looks like.” Zarya squeezed her arm, and Veru saw the telltale signs, the beginnings of dreamy-eyed affection she saw in the expressions of so many, but she thought perhaps in this man, she might not mind it so much.
Glancing over at Danik to see if he noticed, she saw he’d left and frowned. Her tiny bubbles of joy popped, but she still managed to smile. “What’s next?” she asked Zarya.
“I will depart and send my brother. He will come at noon. Watch for him. Eat heartily. You will need the energy. I’ll take my leave, fair one.”
After the knight left, Veru made her way to the porch and found Max curled up on a chair next to a steaming bowl of stew and a hot loaf of brown bread. “Keeping us fed, kotenok?”
She sank into the chair and had finished most of the meal before Danik decided to make an appearance.
He leaned against a post as she used the last bit of bread to soak up the rest of her stew.
Veru had a lot of practice with patience and waiting for others to speak first, but Danik had a knack for being calm and cool under any circumstance.
While she sat, playing over what he should be saying again and again in her mind, he thumbed a tune on his thigh as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and as if their shared kiss had never happened at all. It was driving her crazy.
Determined to make him suffer more than she was, she said nothing at all herself and left him alone until she heard a neigh that indicated the arrival of a new knight.
“Privet?” she heard the shout and headed outside to the greet the brother of the white knight.
The minute he saw her, he reined in his prancing sorrel stallion who rose on his hind legs and opened his mouth.
Red-and-orange flames erupted as the horse shook his bright red mane and danced on his hind legs before the knight hopped down.
The man’s armor and cape were as red as his beautiful horse.
When he bowed deeply and then removed his helmet, Veru laughed when he shook out a head of hair as bright, thick, and shining as his horse’s tail, and every bit as red to boot.
“Why, I’d say my sister would be a bit jealous if she saw your hair. That color is quite beautiful. Is that appropriate to say to a man?” Veru smiled as she teased him.
He answered with a twinkle in his eye. “When a lady as lovely as yourself calls me beautiful, I would daresay it’s appropriate under any conditions. Now, how may I be of service? And please say you need an escort of some kind,” he added while tossing his lustrous hair over his shoulder.
Veru laughed. “I’m afraid it’s nothing that fun.”
Danik was beside her instantly. She had no idea where he’d come from. “We’ve a task to complete,” he said brusquely. “Here are the instructions.” He handed the knight the paper and stood there waiting with his arms folded.
The knight eyed the two of them and unfolded the paper. After reading, he winced. “I can take you to them, but there’s a problem.”
“What is it?” Danik asked. “Do they have fangs? Is their wool poisonous?”
“No. Nothing like that. They are, er . . . well, they’re naked.”
“Naked?” Veru said.
“Yes. So you see, there isn’t anything for you to shear.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s very rare. Supposedly, they come into their wool under just the right conditions, but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Do you know the conditions?”
“No one does. Not even my mistress. I was tasked with guarding them and given every tool at my disposal to, shall we say, encourage the growth. But so far, nothing’s worked.”
“I see,” said Veru. “Well, this is quite the embranglement, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Is the way far?”
“It is. The sheep reside in a hidden forest, but my brother said he gave you his mirror . . .”
“He did. I would just like to consult one of our local sheep farmers before setting out, if that’s agreeable to you.”
“Very well. When you are ready to attempt your task, simply tell the mirror you wish to find the hidden forest guarded by the Polden Knight.”
“Polden. Is that your name?” Veru asked.
“For now, it suffices.”
“Then we’ll seek you out soon.”
The knight departed, and Veru and Danik set out to find the sheep farmer Veru had met before. He indeed proved a fount of wisdom and appeared to know much about the very sheep she mentioned.
“Special ones, them are,” he said. “Need ta be fed on the hair of virgins.”
“What?” Veru replied, gasping.
“That’s right. Supplemented with flowers if you want the wool to grow out colored special.
Otherwise, it grows the same color as the girl’s hair—black, white, gray, blond, you get the idea.
Mind, they’re voracious eaters. They prefer it fresh.
Fall asleep next to one and ya might find they’ve eaten off your very scalp!
” He visibly shivered. Then he whispered to Danik, “I once heard a one young lad as had a lambkin. Loved it like his own babe. Fed it from a bottle. Then, one night, it came inta its teeth and began nudgin’ the boy at his ankles.
He was a hairy one, the lad. Took after ’is da.
Wouldn’t ya know, the lamb licked the fine hairs clean offen his legs, even up to ’is nethers.
Some say it even nicked ’is wee kolbasa. ”
Danik straightened and his entire face turned red, while Veru tried her best to smother a snort.
The short farmer turned to her. “Poor boy’s legs were ever after as smooth as a babe’s popka.
But I says he was fortunate. Even a virgin girl with hair down to her feet ain’t enough ta satisfy one of them adult bugger bears. ”
Veru cleared her throat. “Okay, so flowers and hair. Is there anything else we need to know?”
Danik managed to find his voice and asked, “Anything special about the shearing?”
“Naw, nothing special. Oh! Except once they eat, their wool grows immediate like. Ya have ta shear them before the full moon appears; otherwise, it all falls out and you need ta start over again.”
“But if they need hair to grow wool, what do they eat in the meantime?” Veru asked. “How do they stay alive?”
“Same as every other flock of sheep. They eat grass, clover, hay, that sort of thing. They just can’t produce wool.”