Page 7 of Heart of the Wolf
The creature sat beside her, just as tall as it had been when standing. Brielle removed the pins and bandages with delicate fingers, tucking the soiled ones into her satchel while digging out a fresh bit of treated linen and the salve. Brielle placed them on the ground before tearing a piece of her tunic off to use as a cloth.
Colors blurred and blended as Brielle dipped the fabric into the crystalline water. The hand holding the wet cloth rested over the wound, eyeing the wolf, asking silently for permission.
Those deep, icy eyes closed for a long pause before fluttering open again.
While wiping away the excess dirt and blood, she watched for any signs of distress from the wolf, relieved when none appeared. She worked meticulously, stowing the used rag in her satchel once she’d cleaned the cut of dirt and debris.
The salve stuck to her fingers as she applied a thick layer before wrapping and pinning a swathe of bandages.
“There,” she said, exhausted and glassy-eyed. “Take it easy for a few days; rest in the woods. No more murdering vile men,” she laughed weakly, swaying before covering her face with her hand.
The wolf stood again, leveling her with a discerning gaze. A low growl hummed through it like a concerned warning.
“I’m fine. You can go now. I can make my way back home on my own,” she said, tapping the hilt of her sword.
She swayed again.
This time, her knees buckled, and the wolf pressed its head into the column of her spine, keeping her upright.
Thoughts whirled through her mind, trying to remember the last time she had eaten or drunk anything. She had skipped some meals, worried about rations for the winter. And water; she didn’t know if it was the fog that clouded her mind or if it had indeed been too many days since she last had anything.
In an instant, the world went black as Brielle slipped into unconsciousness.
***
Everything ached. Gently, her petite frame rocked, jostled by steady movements. Her head lolled into an unyielding wall covered in supple leather and silken furs.
A quiet mewling noise fell from her as she tried to open her eyes, which burned in the midday sun. Looking down, a large pair of leather boots, lined with fur, padded beneath her.
Visions of a giant white wolf swam to the forefront of her mind, but she looked around and saw no such creature.It was the last thing she remembered before everything went dark.
Strong hands dug in around her shoulders and under her knees. Her heart thudded in her chest as she cautiously drew her gaze up when a pair of familiar steel-gray eyes met hers.
All the air in her lungs left her in a loud whoosh, her chest constricting.
She must have died, and this was Heaven. This was her Dane; he waited for her.
At least it wasn’t painful. Dying had been as easy as going to sleep. Brielle had never given much thought to how she would die. Like most, she hoped it would be after a good life she was proud of. After she had married and had children.
Realistically, she knew that wasn’t her fate. She imagined death would find her one winter when she was too cold and too hungry to carry on.
She had been right, vaguely remembering collapsing by a stream before moving on.
After sucking in another ragged breath, the forest blurred into a swirl of greens and browns. Whenever she pictured the afterlife, she envisioned an otherworldly place draped in finery and silks.
Perhaps it wasn’t Heaven. Maybe it was limbo, and she and her Dane would move on together. Did he believe inHeaven? She supposed not. Perhaps they were going to Valhalla. Wherever they were going, it didn’t matter as long as they were together.
Her body swayed with the movement, and she grimaced, the ache in her temple almost unbearable.
What happened to the promise of no longer being in pain once someone crossed over?
Breathing through the ache, she gazed up at her Dane.
Beautiful white-blonde braids framed his pale, battle-worn face. A large, chalky scar ran the length of his cheek. Etched there like the memory of a blade.
Carefully, her fingers curled around the fine silk of his tunic, poking out from under the leather of his furs. It was much more luxurious than anything she owned. Exhausted and curious, she burrowed further into it, seeking its warmth.
He smelled of wood smoke, pine, and leather. She wanted to memorize the feel of his body against hers. The scent of him made her think of home.
