Chapter Thirteen
In Which Practical Steps Are Taken, Finally
The second week after Frank left on his mission to find aid, Tasia’s relative, Pig-ola (or whatever her name was), got her wish. Sort of.
Precipitation still fell from the sky at all hours, but soon after the sun set, it came down as snow.
Unfortunately for the bellyacher, the rain returned with the daylight and washed away any accumulation.
The whole world was soggy and cold. Mitch’s wolf pelt was plenty warm while dry, but staying dry wasn’t entirely possible during his jaunts through the snowy nighttime village.
He currently lingered in his human shape behind a large tree near the back corner of the Galanis home, hunched within his thickest cloak. With a plot to enslave the whole village only weeks away, he and Tasia had decided that it was important to be in contact every day.
Because Tasia’s leash was much shorter than his, Mitch came to her.
Barone had him stand outside the mayor’s offices a few times a week looking tough, but Mitch wasn’t needed when Barone wasn’t at his desk, and the sloppy weather had cut those hours down even further.
If it wasn’t for Tasia, Mitch would have skipped town weeks ago, guaranteed job or no.
“Psst, Mitch,” Tasia hissed in her not-so-subtle version of a stage whisper.
Surprised he hadn’t heard her coming, Mitch peered around the evergreen’s branches and saw that Tasia was half-hanging out of a window.
She smiled broadly when she saw him, waved, then pulled herself inside and slid the sash back in place.
A moment later, she slipped through the back door and made her way toward him through the slush.
Unable to resist, Mitch tugged her out of sight as soon as she was within reach.
“Did you find anything?” Tasia asked, her eyes bright. “Or does the rain wash away the smells?”
“A little rain can heighten scents, actually. But yeah”—he glanced at the torrent of flowing water that used to be the path—“this much water tends to be too much. I mostly searched by eye last night.”
“Find anything?” She rubbed her arms under the red cloak that didn’t seem to be hiding enough layers of outerwear underneath.
Mitch gently moved her hands aside and took over the arm-rubbing process, quickly creating heat with the friction of his gloves on the cloak. “I found a barrel in a weird spot. It was filled with wood curls and tinder fungus, mostly.”
A cute little wrinkle creased her nose. “What’s tinder fungus?”
“There are a couple mushroom types that either catch fire really easily or burn very slowly on the inside, making it possible to carry an ember for a long time. They get lumped under the same name by those of us who don’t know their other names.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I dumped the contents in a convenient puddle and set it back up the way it was.”
“So no one will know the difference. Smart.” Tasia’s teeth were beginning to chatter, though she clenched them in an effort to hide her chilliness.
“Go back inside. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Mitch might have imagined that she was as reluctant to part as he was, but he helped her along with a gentle shove between her shoulder blades when she paused.
He kept his word and appeared in the backyard every day.
Sometimes he told her about the various fire traps he’d found, and sometimes he just held up a number of fingers to indicate how many he’d dismantled.
The times when Tasia couldn’t get past the window, he often caught a glimpse of a small, curly-haired creature clinging to her.
By the time the next rest day rolled around, the clouds had finally gotten tired of dumping liquid for weeks straight. They were blessed with an almost-dry day. Everything in the woods was still wet, but patches of cloud-free sky winked at them.
“Think you can start a fire today?” Tasia asked, peering up.
“If we hurry,” Mitch cautioned. “Here, hand me the leaves. I’ll dunk them in the stream. Have the kitchen towel ready.”
Wincing as the frigid trickle bit his hands, Mitch thoroughly soaked the filemu.
Tasia held out the towel and, after some meticulous arranging, he was able to roll the towel and squeeze out most of the water.
They left the filemu wrapped up and set off as fast as the treacherous ground would let them.
Halfway to their destination, Mitch shifted into his wolf form. The filemu scent was weakening, but they still needed to dry it. Not long after, they arrived in a small, open area that he thought would work. Transformed again, he set about gathering the materials he needed to make a small fire.
“How will it light when everything is so wet?” Tasia asked.
Mitch opened the satchel he had brought to show her the wood shavings and tinder fungus inside.
“I realized we could use this to our advantage.” The small frying pan he had packed was barely visible under the rest. He carefully extracted it and handed it over.
“Here. You can hold this while I make the fire.”
Tasia clapped her hands. “Oh! That’ll work.”
As he bent to his task, he could hear her muttering happy observations to herself about the heft of the pan.
With the flammable items and his flint, he soon had a small but hot fire going.
Satisfied that it would continue burning while he sought out more fuel, Mitch stood up without checking his surroundings.
A loud gasp and a thud had him spinning on his heel to face the threat. He could see nothing but Tasia staring at him with wide eyes and both hands over her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice harsh in his apprehension.
She pointed a shaky finger at the pan now lying on the forest floor. “I almost clocked you in the head with the frying pan,” she said in a horrified whisper. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mitch rubbed the back of his head and let out a bark of laughter. “That would have left a dent.”
Several apologies poured out of Tasia as she followed him around the miniature glade while he collected thin sticks.
He assured her that he wasn’t upset, and she finally chose to believe him when he pointed out that she had learned her lesson about swinging frying pans and was not likely to do so again.
The pan took some time to heat, but it worked wonderfully for drying out the filemu.
The towel had removed a good portion of the moisture, so the actual cooking wasn’t too long.
To be safe, both of them stayed upwind. When the full batch was dried, Mitch turned into a wolf to give it a sniff test. He switched back and reported that it smelled more like nothing than it had when they drenched it the week before.
“The full moon is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Tasia asked as she repacked the leaves carefully into her basket.
Touched that she had remembered, Mitch rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
He had nearly accepted that his heart belonged to her now, but she didn’t need that complication in her life.
After the army cleaned up this mess, Frank’s money was going to set her up with a new life somewhere else. Without him.
Tasia looked up from her basket with a question in her eyes, and he realized that he hadn’t answered.
“This week,” he hurried to say. “Three days of being stuck as a wolf whenever the moon is in the sky. Pah.”
She made a face of commiseration.
“I’m going to have to fake a stomach bug or something so Barone doesn’t come looking for me. Know of any highly contagious but not life-threatening diseases?” he asked, not quite facetiously.
“Not sure I can help you there,” she said with a laugh. A sound that was fast becoming one of his favorite things to hear.
It took a little time to put out the fire and scatter the remains. The mud helped bury any leftover coals, and Mitch was positive that no unintentional fires would start when they left.
When the pair reached Granny’s cottage, he shifted and slunk around to the back.
Before walking up the path, Tasia took care to tuck the basket under her cloak. Then she knocked.
Grandmother took her own sweet time opening the door. When she did, Tasia revealed the basket with a flourish. “No rain on your medicine today!”
Granny blinked at her, then raised her eyes to the sky, which was substantially clearer than before.
She took the basket without speaking and shuffled inside.
Tasia might not be as smart as Mitch wanted to believe she was, but she was happy to foster the sinister old woman’s misapprehension about her lack of wit.
With her money at hand and the door of the cottage safely closed behind her, Tasia headed back into the woods. Far sooner than she expected, Mitch joined her, causing a happy zing to zip through her body.
“Still worried I’ll get lost this close to Granny’s?” she teased.
“Nah.” Mitch scratched at his chin. “Just figured there was no point trying to hear anything more.”
As far as excuses went, that one was pretty weak; and yet, Tasia couldn’t bring herself to mind. She preferred walking alongside her wolf-man over trying to navigate the woods on her own.
“It’s too bad you can’t station yourself at the dance hall door in your wolf form,” she mused. “Then you could sniff everyone and we would find the traitor right away.”
Mitch snorted. Then he tilted his head. “I haven’t sniffed around the hall yet. I will try to do that this week.”
“Be careful,” Tasia couldn’t help saying. “The closer we get to the dance, the more chances of running into Granny’s thugs.”