Page 68 of Ravaged Wolf
I lead Izzy north, away from the cabins. There are dozens of berry patches in our territory. I don’t think it’ll hurt to go visit one of the farther ones. The weather’s nice, the day is young, and Izzy doesn’t smell stressed anymore.
We’ve been walking for a few minutes when she breaks the silence. “You were freaking out back there.”
I nod and look her in the face, so she can see that I mean it when I say, “You don’t have anything to worry about. I can handle it.”
She wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes, not dramatically like Nia or Drona, but like it’s something she’s just learned, and she hasn’t got it quite down yet. It’s adorable.
“I’ll worry about what I want,” she says. “And besides, I wasn’t worried.”
“Okay,” I say reflexively while my brain tries to unknot what she said.
“I freak out, too, you know.”
My gaze drops to the deer trail I’m guiding her along. “Yeah. It kills me. I’d do anything to take it away.”
“Me, too, but I’m not going to pretend everything is fine so that you don’t feel guilty or get worried. I don’t want to have to do that with you.” She takes in a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t want you to be the one who suffers in silence while I’m the one who’s so broken she can’t handle any bad stuff.”
“Okay.” I don’t completely understand what we’re arguing about, but I’m never not going to give her a win if I can, so I back up and try again. “I was freaking out back there. Standing by the tree. It made me remember.”
“I know,” she says. “I felt it.” She presses her hand to her chest.
“Yeah?” This is the first time she’s said anything about our silent bond.
“I don’t want you to pretend, and I won’t pretend, either. We’ll just say what we feel and deal with it. That’s how we’re going to do this.” She’s so fierce, until she catches my gaze, and then she goes pink and stumbles a step. “If you’re okay with that.”
I grab her hand. “Okay, beautiful girl,” I say.
Her pink cheeks blush a deeper red.
“I just say how I feel, and you deal with it,” I tease. “That’s the plan. Love it. I can one hundred percent get behind that.”
“That’s not what I said, and you know it,” she protests, her lips quirking.
“That’s what I feel like I heard. You just have to deal with it.”
“Stop playing,” she says and playfully smacks me in the chest.
“Oof!” I immediately fold over. “Watch it, killer.”
She snorts. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I am,” I agree, grinning, as I grab her hand.
She smiles quietly to herself and squeezes tight. I swing our arms.
“Where is this alleged berry patch?” she asks. “North Border?”
“Not much farther.” In my head, I readjust my plan and pick a closer patch. They aren’t juneberries, but there areblackberries growing along a stream about a quarter mile due west. “This way.”
I lead her off the deer trail and into dense woods. We wade through tangled underbrush, and even though I try to blaze the way as much as possible, it’s still slow going. The canopy is thicker here, so the air is dim, cool, and rich with the scent of earth and growing things. It feels like we’re alone in the world. I wish we were.
I wish we always had been.
A few minutes later, I hear water babbling and smell the berries at the same time. “Brunch,” I say, helping her down an incline to the stream. I kick off my shoes, and she follows suit. The bushes grow right along the bank, so it’s easier to pick them standing in the water.
“Hey, these aren’t juneberries. They’re blackberries,” she says, popping one in her mouth.
“False advertising,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
