Page 8 of Wolf's Providence

I winced at the bluntness. “Wasn’t sure you knew the last bit.”

“Cannon told me. He isnothappy with your guy.”

“I know.” Plucking at a thread on my bedsheet, I avoided the harsh truth of Ned.

“Well, if you’re worried he’s affected you, don’t.” Ned stretched back in the chair. “You’re still agonizing over every little detail; you’re definitely still you.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Ned grinned at me, and I felt better. “You’re a bad friend,” I scolded.

“Bullshit. I’m the friend you need to tell you, in no uncertain terms, you’re wasting your time on him.”

“Am I?”

Ned frowned but said nothing,

“If you went to look for him, you could punch him…for me.”

Ned gave me a look of appraisal. “For real?”

“Totally, you could say I specifically requested it.”

“You want me to punch him?”

I laughed again. “Punch him? I want you to kick his ass right off that mountain.”

Ned stood in one fluid motion. “Nowthere’sthe girl I know.” Leaning forward, he placed a hand on my arm, his touch gentle, as he looked into my eyes. “Willow, I will gladly go and find your man and beat the shit out of him. For you.” His eyes danced with laughter, and I couldn’t hold back my grin.

“You’re going to enjoy it, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to love it,” he told me as he walked to the door. “He deserves it. You don’t. And I am quite happy to be the one to tell him.” At the door, he looked at me. “You’re still you, nothing’s changed.” With a wink, he left me.

I wanted to believe that. I really did. But deep down, there was a part of me that wasn’t so sure anymore.

THREE

Willow

The door openedand I pushed myself up the bed in preparation of Doc’s visit. However, it wasn’t Doc who came around the door.

“Hi?” I heard the uncertainty in my voice, and the shaman must have too, as he gave me a kind smile.

I watched in fascination as he deftly maneuvered around the chair in his path and sat down with confidence. I found it fascinating every time I saw him that someone whose vision was impaired was able to master so much.

“How do you feel?” the shaman asked me as he settled back in the chair.

“Weird.” It was out before I could stop it. “Sorry,” I hastily added.

He waved off my apology. His eyes were sharp as he watched me, which I knew was physically impossible, given the milky film over them, but still, I felt like he was staring at me with an intensity that made me squirm.

“Weird is probably an apt description,” he told me amicably. “And since it is what I want to talk to you about, then it is a good place to start.”

“Did you have another name?” I asked him curiously, and for the first time, I saw him look uncertain. “Is that rude? To askthat?” I asked him, my cheeks flushing. “If it is, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Then why ask?” he asked gently. “You are feeling uncomfortable, and your question is in the hopes of making me feel equally uncomfortable.”

I was already shaking my head. “No! I’m genuinely sorry, I meant no offense. I just had the random thought that you couldn’t always have been known as shaman, and I spoke without thinking.”

He smiled, an air of smugness about him that had me narrowing my eyes. “I joke with you, young Willow,” he told me with a chuckle. “Once we take the mantle of the shaman, we are known as shaman only. Possessions, desires, even attachments—they belong to the life we leave behind.”

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