Page 144 of The Hunt
He stopped in front of one and opened the thick, wooden door. Warmth enveloped me as I entered and looked around the living room. Through a widened opening, I could see a kitchen. The home was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, but just as rustic, with minimal furnishing and a large potbelly stove.
Fenris closed the door behind us.
“Dad?” he called.
When there was no answer, Fenris wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Looks like we have the place to ourselves.” He led me down a narrow hallway to the bedroom just behind the kitchen.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room was full of things. Shelves lined the walls above the bed and desk and any other open space. Rocks filled one of them, but games, books, and random objects filled the others.
While I took everything in, Fenris collapsed on his bed.
“I’m feeling faint. There’s a girl in my room, and she’s not trying to get under the covers with me. Now I know why the banshees were singing. It really is the end of the world.”
I rolled my eyes at his antics and removed my jacket. He caught it easily when I tossed it on his bed. While he laid it neatly over the back of his desk chair, I moved closer to examine his shelves.
“Poetry?” I asked, eyeing some of the book titles.
“I went through a phase.”
“Horror? Mystery? Romance? Is there anything you don’t read?”
“Newspapers. Human stupidity is typically too depressing for me.”
“My dad’s human.”
“Has he been on the news?”
“I’m not sure I like this version of you. You’re not taking anything seriously today.”
“Are you implying that, at some point, I took something seriously? If so, take that back. It’s insulting. Come here and give me an apology hug.”
He lay back on his bed and opened his arms wide.
“I’m not getting on that bed with you. Since the rock collection was real, show me your prisoner impersonation.”
He cocked his head, and his grin slowly widened.
“I knew you’d come around eventually. Here, let me position you.” He hopped off the bed and turned the desk chair around. I sat where he indicated. He grinned at me like I’d done the funniest thing he’d ever seen.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked as my suspicion climbed.
“Sure.”
“Good.” He plucked a single boot off a nearby shelf. The thing looked old, the tongue hanging open and the lacings missing.
He held it out to me but just out of reach.
“Stretch a little. Grab at the ankle.”
I snatched the boot out of his hand.
“I don’t need a pain in my backside.”
He nearly lost it. Red-faced and looking like he was barely holding in the laugh of a lifetime, he reached for my hand.
“Here. Feel it.” He placed my hand on the side of the leather boot. “What do you think? Soft and smooth, right?”
