Page 4 of The Wulver's Bond
‘That wasn’t digging.’
Weed shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘So I get a little leeway for creative interpretation. If you wanted manual labour you should have specified that I use a shovel.’
Arran grunted. ‘I suspect you would have only had your plants do the digging for you, instead.’ He looked over Elsie’s body, patting her pockets and coming up empty for a wallet. ‘Did she have any family?’
Another lazy shrug from Weed. ‘Why should I care?’
‘Answer me.’ Arran grit his teeth. ‘Please.’
Weed snickered. ‘There you go, a nice direct order. Yes, she had a cousin she hated and some distant relatives I don’t know much about. No siblings or kids.’
‘Friends? Anyone she was close with?’
‘Not that I’d know. Other hunters, maybe. I wouldn’t worry. Doubt anyone would miss her enough to come after you.’
Arran huffed through his nose. ‘I’m not worried. But her kin should be informed.’ He began rifling through Elsie’s pack and came up with a sleeping bag. It would do.
‘Why’d you care? She’s not your problem any more.’ Weed watched with fascination as Arran carefully zipped Elsie’s body into the sleeping bag.
Arran gestured to the backpack. ‘Is anything in here yours?’
‘Of course not.’
He laid Elsie’s body gently into the grave, then placed her entire pack, crossbow, and bolts on top. He nodded to Weed. ‘Cover it up. Please.’
The soil piled back in, leaving a low mound. Blades of grass crawled over it, spreading a natural carpet that blended with the rest of the ground. Arran had kept back Elsie’s knife, the one she’d stabbed him with. This he stuck into the earth at the grave’s head. Hopefully she would find it to be a fitting marker.
‘There was some useful stuff in that bag,’ Weed said, arching an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t peg you for the wasteful sort.’
‘I don’t steal from the dead.’
Arran rose from the graveside, ignoring the incredulous look being thrown his way. He nodded at the last of the hunters’ packs which Logan had flung at Weed. ‘Take that for yourself. I free you from service to me.’
Weed snorted. ‘You what?’
‘I free you. I give you to yourself. Whatever it is that is required to break your bond to me.’ Arran turned to leave. ‘Go away.’
‘Ah.’ He heard Weed’s footsteps retreating. ‘See, that’s one of those problematic instructions. Here I am, going away. Definitely following orders. Yup. As far as I can. Within mylimits. Oh look, you’re about fifty feet away and now I’ve gotta start moving toward you again…’
Arran was ready to ignore his prattling and continue walking, but Weed’s voice kept at a steady distance, matching his pace.
‘See? This is as far away as I can go. End of the rope. You might as well be pulling me. Fun fact: there are some other orders that are also de facto worthless. You can’t tell me to kill you, for instance. Or to kill myself. Bit of a built-in failsafe so I can’t trick you into saying some unwise words. Because otherwise, trust me, I’d be running rings around you with all the possible loopholes I could spring through…’
Kill me now,Arran thought sardonically. Weed’s voice was bright and grating, and showed no sign of slowing down. Arran glanced over his shoulder and confirmed that yes, for every step he took, Weed appeared compelled to do the same. He’d picked up the backpack, at least.
‘Stop,’ Arran said, drawing to a halt. ‘What do I need to say to free you?’
Weed halted as ordered and smiled sweetly. ‘Not possible, oh master of mine.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Arran scratched his chin. ‘I command you to be free.’
Weed crossed his arms and raised his eyes to the sky. ‘Got a thick one here, I see.’
Arran rubbed thumb and forefinger along the bridge of his nose, holding his temper. He was tired and in pain, and running out of patience for Weed’s games. ‘What kind of instructions do you respond to?’
‘Clear and decisive commands,’ Weed replied, twirling a stalk of grass between his fingers. For someone supposedly doomed to servitude, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.
‘Then Icommandyou to leave me alone,’ Arran growled. ‘Walk yourself to the very edge of the island and then kindly drop over the edge of it.’
