Chapter 48 #2
Sympathy wells within me. Who knew Kyor’s wolf was such a complex creature?
Kyor is grinning broadly, his eyes flashing with joy. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him in ages. Then he looks at Elska and something wicked flashes across his face. ‘Els says you can ride with us, Rose, if Fen won’t carry you.’
I have a horse. I should ride the horse. That would be the sensible choice. Yet I can’t resist the idea of feeling Kyor’s arms around me for a few hours at least.
‘Sure,’ I say against all better judgement.
I load the bags onto the horse, and Caz secures the mount to her own. She flashes me a broad grin and winks. ‘I’d ride with him too.’
I ignore the wink and the teasing. There’s nothing salacious about me riding Elska. It’s just an opportunity to talk with Kyor about dire wolf bonds, that’s all.
It’s only sensible.
Elska lowers herself down. I mount her and settle against Kyor’s broad frame. It’s heaven to be against him, even if only for snatched moments like this.
Outrage slams into me. You are not riding on another dire wolf!
I do seem to be, I fire back as sagely as I can, though I know he’ll feel my amusement all the same.
Get off Elska! Right now!
Elska’s gait is comfier than a horse’s, so I think I’ll stay put.
Silence. Heavy, grumpy silence. Then, Fine. Climb upon my back if you must. It will restrict my ability to defend you, and I will be the laughingstock of the pack, but if your rear end must be comfortable, who am I to say otherwise? he rumbles sulkily.
Elska is not the laughingstock of the pack, I point out.
Her bonded can call down lightning. Only a fool would laugh at them. Can you call down lightning?
I … no. But as you saw, I can call vines.
Wonderful, you can grow our foes some flowers.
My ability saved your life! I snap.
He softens, all outrage gone in an instant. So it did.
Fen comes and stands next to Elska. My apologies. Slide off my mate and climb upon me, he instructs.
I’m about to respond when the realisation of his words strikes me fast enough to steal my breath.
Your mate!
Don’t know everything yet, do you, Little Raven? Fen’s smug amusement rattles through me. Now hop down.
His tone is entreating, but I don’t do as he asks. Instead, I twist in Kyor’s arms. ‘Elska is Fen’s mate?’
His lips purse, and he looks faintly nervous.
‘I promise, I was going to tell you. I wasn’t keeping it a secret.
It was just difficult finding the right moment.
It’s why she was so distressed when Fen was in the water.
’ A smirk flickers on his lips. ‘Although in terms of your relationship with her, it’s definitely helped.
You know, if you were still worried about her wanting to kill you. ’
I know he’s trying to inject some humour into the situation, and I find myself believing him when he says he was going to tell me, but still, I can’t help but gape.
‘They’re mates?’ I repeat dumbly.
‘Indeed,’ Kyor says. The smirk drops, and I can see he is less than thrilled about our current development. Stormy blue eyes meet mine. ‘We are as entangled as it is possible to be, Thorn.’
‘You knew Fen wouldn’t stand for me riding on Elska instead of him,’ I accuse.
‘I knew there was a fair chance,’ he agrees.
‘And if he had?’
Kyor flashes me an irresistible grin. ‘Then at least I would have had you in my arms for a few hours.’
His words make my heart lift. We’ve not mentioned the words we shared before I fell asleep, so maybe it’s time we do.
As I dismount from Elska, I turn and look him in the eye. ‘Just so we’re clear, you don’t have to wait until I’m half-dead to pull me into your arms next time.’
He smiles – a true smile that reaches his eyes – and my heart aches to see it. ‘Good to know, Thorn.’ He nods at Fen. ‘Good luck on your first solo ride.’
‘Thanks.’
With one last flash of a grin, he and Elska lope off to scout ahead, leaving me with my own dire wolf.
My own dire wolf.
Of all the deluded events of the last five moons – defeating a jotunn, freeing a kraken, winning the gifting, learning of my sister’s accidental pregnancy and subsequent marriage to Jonas, and discovering that my brother yet lives – this somehow feels more implausible than them all.
I am bonded not just to a dire wolf, but to the most magnificent dire wolf I have ever seen. Magnificence that radiates from more than just his height or build.
Fen was bonded to a commander of the army, a warrior whose skill and strength in battle were only surpassed by his integrity and compassion outside of it.
And now I have that same bond.
Nervous excitement flutters through my chest as I approach him, ready to mount. Yet Fen remains standing tall, looking at me impatiently.
Well, crouch down, I say. Elska crouches down for me.
He sniffs. I said you could ride on me. I didn’t say I’d make it easy for you.
The soaring pride and happiness of moments ago falters.
He’s not going to make it easy for me? I grind my teeth and hope my annoyance scorches through the bond.
Of all the dire wolves in the whole of the world, I had to land the most stubborn one.
Like calls to like, apparently, he shoots back before relenting a little.
Fen lowers himself just enough to make a point of how little effort he intends to expend to help me climb onto him. I eye the broad span of his back, the thick ruff of rust-coloured fur bristling beneath my fingers.
This is a terrible idea.
I place one foot against his flank and attempt to haul myself up with what I hope passes for dignity.
It does not.
I slip, scrabble, and end up clutching a handful of fur as my boot skids uselessly.
Fen does not move.
You’re doing this wrong, he observes coolly.
Oh, am I? I gasp, hauling again. Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate the correct way?
I would not debase myself. I’m sure you’ll grasp the basics shortly.
I swallow a growl of my own and manage to get one knee up, only to promptly lose my balance and thump chest-first against his back with an undignified huff.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Benny choke on a laugh. I’m glad someone is having fun.
Fen sighs. Loudly. Deeply. A sigh of long-suffering. At least you are light for one who makes so much fuss.
I finally swing my other leg over and collapse forward, arms wrapped around his neck, cheek buried in warm fur.
There. Mounted, I announce, breathless. Try not to shake me off. I don’t want to break any bones.
You are stubborn, Little Raven, he mutters, straightening at last. But his amusement hums faintly through the bond all the same. He talks as if he didn’t just force me to wrestle him like an uncooperative mountain.
In one smooth motion Fen rises to his feet. The moment would have been elegant if I weren’t still struggling to fix my grip. Instead, I wobble, windmill briefly, and then clamp down instinctively, my fingers fisting in his fur too hard.
Fen stumbles half a step, catches himself, and freezes.
My fur is attached to me, Little Raven, he says with icy restraint. Do not rip it off. I would look absurd with bald patches.
Mortified, I loosen my grip at once. Sorry. I’m not used to … this much wolf.
His back is wider than Elska’s, the muscles shifting differently beneath me, his gait longer and more powerful.
Where Elska moves like lightning held in check, Fen is all steady momentum and coiled strength, each step rolling through his shoulders.
Without Kyor’s arms around me, there’s nothing to anchor me but instinct and faith.
You are wiggling, Fen informs me as we move forward.
I am not wiggling.
You are absolutely wiggling.
I try to still myself, shifting my weight carefully. That only makes things worse. Fen’s ears flick back, and he lets out a low, put-upon huff.
This is highly inefficient, he mutters. Wolves are not meant to be burdened with … squirming.
You offered, I remind him.
You forced me to! And I did not anticipate this level of movement.
We make it another few steps before I slide sideways, overcompensating, and thump lightly against his shoulder. Fen stops dead.
If you fall, he says calmly, I will not catch you. That would encourage future recklessness.
I grin suddenly because I can feel the lie in his words. You absolutely would catch me.
I would, he admits with a huff. But I would complain about it. A lot.
Despite myself, I laugh, the sound easing the knot of tension in my chest. I loosen my grip and focus again, breathing in time with his movement, letting my body follow the motion rather than fight it.
Gradually, the rocking settles, Fen’s stride evens out, and my balance finds its centre.
Better, he concedes after a moment.
Thank you.
We move on together then, still adjusting, still learning, but no longer quite so precarious. His warmth seeps into me, solid and reassuring, and I let myself trust the rhythm at last.
This is amazing, I say. And it is. With my connection to Fen, I can feel the direction we’re moving, brace the moment before he leaps over an obstacle, and revel in the moments he picks up speed.
I don’t need Kyor’s arms anchoring me when I can anticipate what is coming.
Don’t need to fear abrupt twists and sharp turns.
This is everything I thought bonding with a dire wolf would be, and far, far more.
Fen’s pride rumbles through me, quiet and pleased. My heart lifts in response.
I don’t know what the future will bring for either of us, but I’m relieved we won’t face it alone.