22. Emi
Over the course of the evening, I met the people in the enclave. Some were wary, hanging back around the edges by the tall thorny walls, but others were downright welcoming when Wolf introduced me.
My thoughts were swimming by the time I came to where the delicate woman was bent over a young man with bright ginger hair. The white-haired man who’d sheltered her earlier stood guard over them, eyeing my approach carefully.
“Easy, Lynx,” the woman said to her protector. “She seems all right, let her be.” She kept her head bent to the young man”s shoulder. There was a gash across the skin there, still bleeding slowly as she cleaned it. The redhead’s face was tight, but his eyes were keen and his body perfectly still as she worked. “That”s the worst of it, Fox,” the woman said, “but it needs a few stitches.”
Wolf came up beside me, and I could feel him stiffen. “Fox, what happened? Is that a bite?”
“Nah,” the young man said with a shy smile, “just a scrape. Took a dive through a gap that was a smidge too narrow.”
“You do like to get into tight spots.” Wolf shook his head at Fox”s grin, then he moved to place a hand on the back of the other man—Lynx apparently. “Everything good while I was gone?”
Lynx still looked tense, but he nodded. “No sign of Fen.”
“Oh. He’s…uh, he won”t be…” Wolf looked shaken at the memory of what happened when Fenrir attacked him, and maybe at what he’d had to do to survive it. Had Fenrir sat around this very fire with them?
“I could help,” I interrupted, my eyes on Fox, “if you”d let me.”
The redhead looked to Wolf, who settled his doubts with a nod. “Let her. She healed me from a lot worse.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the jagged scar across his neck and shoulder, and it was clear from their reaction that they hadn’t seen it before he’d pulled clothing on. “Fenrir,” was all he said when Lynx made a small shocked sound. If the man thought it was bad now, he should have seen it gaping and ragged.
“Fox, is it?” I knelt in front of where he was sitting, leaving Lynx and Wolf staring with some sort of silent conversation behind me. “I’m a witch, yes, but my magic is healing. Will you let me?” I gestured to his wound.
After another moment watching Lynx and Wolf, who were deep in hushed conversation, Fox nodded.
The wound was small and already clean, and it didn”t take nearly as much effort to push my magic out to heal it as it did with Wolf. Maybe I was already growing more comfortable with my new power.
At a small weight on my shoulder, I looked up to find the woman smiling kindly down at me, her hand resting on me. “That”s amazing. It”s like it healed a whole moon ago.”
“Thank you,” Fox said quietly, then he rose and left us.
I stood, and the woman took my hand in hers. “I’m Fawn.”
“Emi,” I replied.
“I know.” Her smile grew. “I know what you did there, too. Thank you.”
“It was nothing, really. I’m still learning to use the magic, but if I can help someone, why wouldn”t I?”
“That was lovely too, but I meant what you did for Wolf and Lynx, distracting us so they could talk privately about Fenrir. Is he dead, then?” she asked with a matter-of-fact tone that made me reassess her true strength.
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought intentionally about it. There’d been a frisson of tension, between Wolf”s sorrowful mention of Fenrir and the way Lynx had called him Fen. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” Fawn tugged my hand to draw me over to her fire where she stirred a pot of something that smelled a little spicy with the heady scent of cooked meat. “They used to be close, Lynx and Fenrir. Fen had lost his brother, and Lynx felt terrible for him. He has a brother too; Bob is around here somewhere.”
“Bob?” I asked, surprised. “But you”re all named after animals.”
Fawn giggled. “Our kindreds, yes.”
“Kindreds?”
“Some call them our monsters, the ones we shift into in the Mist. But I prefer to think of them as our kindred spirits. Not bad, not good, just a part of us. A part the Mist brings out.”
Wolf had only ever called his beast a monster, or just the wolf if he was being kind. What must it be like knowing that the moment you stepped beyond the walls of this little sacred space, you”d become something else? Something you couldn”t fully control, but something that was also still you?
“Anyway,” Fawn continued, “yes, Bob is Lynx”s brother. It’s Bobcat, technically.”
Oh! I chuckled.
“They”re close. We all are, but most of us are family by choice and by circumstance. Fenrir and his brother were the only other two related by blood, both fenriswulfs, so when his brother died, it hit Lynx and Bob especially hard too. They tried so hard to keep Fen from succumbing to the worst of his nature, which the Mist always tries to draw out.” She shuddered. “It”s so cold, but so hard to resist at the same time. The curse is always trying to claim more of us and take away the human part of us. Fenrir lost his fight when he gave in to his anger and grief.”
“But not Lynx or Bob.”
“No, they”re strong,” Fawn said with a fond smile. Across the fire, Lynx met her eyes before returning to his talk with Wolf. Fawn’s eyes crinkled as she bent to the pot and dished up two bowls of what turned out to be rabbit stew. She handed me one, and I took it wordlessly as she settled beside me with a gentle pat to my knee.
I couldn”t imagine how difficult this life must be. Knowing my grandmother was the one who’d subjected them all to this fate was a cold so deep it burned me from the inside.
All around the enclave, people went about their routines for the night, their chatter forming a soothing tide of noise we all drifted on. Some dipped cups and jugs in the mouth of the clear stream that ran through one side of the space, others gathered blankets off drying racks around fires and ducked behind low walls constructed from bushes or woven branches, and more still banked up fires or emptied waste pots at the bottom end of the stream to be carried away. But everywhere I looked, I also saw how they helped each other. They were all looking out for one another, whether it was handing over an extra blanket or braiding hair for sleep. Around the perimeter, I spotted Bear and Robin walking together like they were patrolling.
“I think you”re all strong.”
Fawn patted my arm. “And I think you”d know something about that. You would have to, being who you are. Besides, you”re strong enough to get through to Wolf, and that”s no small feat.” She smiled softly up at him and Lynx, their heads bent together, deep in solemn conversation. “He doesn”t trust easily, our Wolf. He”s a good man, though.” She turned a more serious expression, though still kind, on me. “Don”t betray that trust, now that you”ve won it.”
She wasn”t the last to tell me so that evening, as we finished our dinner and the fires grew bright against the darkening walls of the enclave, casting dancing shadows among the clustered groups. I heard it again and again as people stopped by Fawn’s fire to chat and check out the witch in their midst.
“He must really trust you.”
“He deserves the best.”
“We’d be lost without Wolf.”
“Don”t hurt him.”
More and more, I was finding it was the last thing I wanted to do.
Seeing Wolf interact with everyone in the enclave made me see him in a new light. The man I’d once fervently wanted to kill was a far cry from the one I saw now.
Here, he was relaxed and sincere, moving from group to group to check in with everyone after ensuring that I was content to stay with Fawn by her fire. He spread his attention evenly, caring and warm, solving problems with calm efficiency and doling out friendship and humor that set everyone at ease.
It was obvious how this group looked to him with a sort of reverence, as a leader. He sent a middle-aged woman over so I could heal a burn on her forearm, and it was amazing to see her faith that he wouldn”t put her in danger. I should have been their worst enemy, but as Wolf made his rounds, I could almost sense the enclave expel a collective breath and relax. People began to head to bed, unworried at the witch among them. All because of him.
They trusted him.
What must that be like? I wasn”t sure anyone had ever known me well enough to trust me like they did him.
I wasn”t foolish enough to mistake Fawn”s kindness for trust. She was open with me because Wolf had vouched for me, and that was enough for her. I”d never been enough for anyone. Not like this.
I excused myself with another thank you to Fawn for her hospitality and went to him.
“Tired?” he asked as I approached.
I only nodded because I didn”t trust myself to speak. My mind was too busy, my emotions too raw.
He draped an arm around my shoulder like we”d done this a hundred times before. Like it didn”t set me alight everywhere I felt the warmth of his body against mine. “Come on. I”ll get some extra bedding, and we can grab some sleep.”
It didn”t escape me that everyone slept in the open here, or at most behind small screens. There was no privacy, no doors to lock, so I supposed I should have assumed that I would sleep somewhere close to Wolf. It”s just…
“Don”t worry. The Mist can”t get in here. It”s safe, and I”ll be right beside you.”
“The Mist? Is that why…at the cottage?”
“Why I took the bedroom and left you on the couch?” He grinned that wolfish grin I loved so much.
No, not loved. Not…whatever this full feeling was in my chest.
He was handsome, that was all. More so now that I could look without the veil of hate.
He laughed. “Yes, witchling, that”s why. I needed to lock myself in, just in case the Mist could invade the cottage. I couldn”t risk shifting with you so close by while I didn”t trust you. My wolf would have seen you as a threat.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Did I say that?” He drew me tight to his side and whispered in my ear. “You were always a threat to me, kitten. You still are.”
Heat bubbled through me. I felt powerful yet unsettled at the same time. It was an odd and confusing mix, so I focused on my steps and followed him to a small fire that had been left to burn alone in a ring of blackened stones. Someone had already banked it for the night and left a stack of blankets to warm in its glow next to the shoulder-height privacy screen. It was surprisingly intimate with just the two of us in the warm firelight of the small space that must be Wolf’s.
“Do you need help out of your corset belt?”
“What? No!” I clutched my waist. How did being alone with Wolf again make me more jumpy than being around all his people who might rightly wish me harm? After all those days at the cottage, just the two of us, I should have been more used to his company. Yet my heart jumped and fluttered in the sleepy hush that had fallen over the enclave.
“Relax, witchling. You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I just thought you might sleep more comfortably without it. You probably noticed, we’re rather informal here. Comes with the shifting territory, I’m afraid.”
I had noticed. Specifically, I’d noticed that several of the residents spent time walking around stark naked or wrapped in nothing but a blanket. No one seemed to care. They’d all seen each other’s bodies as they came and went from the Mist. I’d noted the clothes hanging from protruding branches near the entrance and realized that they must all shed and re-don clothing when entering and exiting, so there was a forced comfort with nudity when they had no other choice. Surprisingly, I found the notion didn’t scandalize me. It felt almost freeing. The constant need to be proper and perfect was just…not here.
“I can do it myself,” I told Wolf, and went about the task of unlacing my overgarments. Once I was down to my chemise and slip, I looked up and found him standing arrested with blankets spilling from his arms. He looked like he’d faltered in the middle of arranging them into two beds side-by-side, and a flush darkened the smattered freckles on his neck before he tore his eyes away and rededicated himself to his task. My stomach flip-flopped.
Then he stripped off his tunic leaving him in only loose trousers that hung low on his hips, revealing every defined muscle and biteable curve, and it was my turn to look away with a blush. It wasn’t fair that I could feel him grinning, the arrogant wart-head. There was a disappointing lack of malice behind the name-calling in my head.
It was the strangest thing. Going to bed in an unfamiliar place full of people who’d been complete strangers only that morning, I somehow felt lighter than I could remember feeling in my own home. The people here looked after each other, helped each other, and lifted each other up in a way that was both completely foreign and deeply soothing. That they cared about each other was evident in every interaction I’d witnessed, in every laugh and comforting touch, every shared meal and passed item. They were a community. A family in the purest sense, full of love and belonging.
“Here you go,” Wolf said, gesturing to the set up closest to the fire. “I gave you the feather pillow. Call it my way of apologizing for relegating you to the couch all those nights.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I offered. “Thank you for protecting me even if I didn’t understand that’s what you were doing.”
“Always will.” His voice was soft, as were his eyes.
As I lay down beside Wolf for the first time ever, it should have been awkward, yet it felt almost familiar. With a blossoming warmth inside me staving off the chill, I settled under the blankets and thought, in my pleasantly drowsy haze, that I could imagine more nights like this. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the feather pillow.