Page 23 of Wolves & Watercolors
“Oh, it’s not going anywhere.” Her voice holds barely suppressed giggles.
A frustrated growl escapes me. For a second I freeze, reigning myself in. This is not the time to suddenly become emotional. Not here with her. Exhaling, I reach for her. Grabbing her shoulders, I pull her in front of me. “You can walk up here. Then you won’t be distracted.”
She twists at the waist, peering at me. “Your eyes look amazing in this light. Super blue.”
Jerking away, I try to calm myself. Were my eyes glowing? Surely that frustration wasn’t enough to trigger it.
“What? I just complimented your eyes. I didn’t mean to be weird,” she says, scuffing her heel through the dirt.
“I just got dust in my eyes,” I say, rubbing at my lashes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m probably making it so much worse,” she says, folding her hands at her waist and slowing to walk beside me.
When my pulse settles, I risk a glance at her. She stares ahead, humming to herself. It’s almost noon and the harsh sunlight reflects off her hair, turning it bronze. As if sensing my attention, she looks over and smiles at me. Lungs catching on my inhale, I look ahead.
The ground hardens from pine needles to rocks as we crest the hill. Aurora reaches out and grabs my forearm. “Oh, wow!”
“Is this good for painting?” I ask tentatively.
She moves ahead, her eyes wide as she takes in the sweeping view of the forest below us. Looking directly down, we can see the twisting creek. It’s not a gaping distance down, but enough I wouldn’t want her to fall. Trees rise up from the other side of the creek, forming an evergreen blanket rippling northward.
“It’s beautiful. You know, I didn’t need something quite this grand, but I love it.” She stares at the view and I’m content to watch her appreciate the landscape that I call home.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, blinking back at me.
“I’m okay.”
“I should eat before I start painting, or I’ll forget to and I’m a monster when I’m hangry.” She produces the two sandwiches from her bag and hands me one.
“We wouldn’t want you to be hangry,” I mutter, peeling the plastic off my food.
Aurora tears into her sandwich, chewing a huge bite. It takes me a moment to remember to start eating too. She devours every crumb and wipes her mouth. “I should have brought more. I didn’t think hiking would make me so hungry.”
“Take mine,” I say, holding out the other half of my sandwich.
“No way,” she says, frowning at me. “You probably need more food than I do.” It’s true, but I can survive a missed lunch. It won’t help my control, however. Being in nature has soothed my wolfish instincts, but under no circumstances can I miss running tonight.
As I finish my sandwich, Aurora sets up her painting supplies. What looks like a handful of dowels turns into an easel, and she sets a thin canvas atop it. She clicks open a rectangular palette of glossy watercolors and pours some water into a cup. Wetting her largest brush, she swirls across an orange color and moves to the canvas.
I’m enthralled, watching her sweep thin washes of color over the surface. It looks like nothing at all, until suddenly I’m seeing the rough shape of the landscape - the deepest shadows and the brightest treetops. She switches from orange to blue with a smaller brush and begins to shape blurry trees along the horizon.
As she works, her tongue sticks out slightly, her brows furrowed in concentration. She’s adorable. Dark lashes flutter as her gaze flickers between the view and her artwork. Hours could have passed, and I would have no idea. The sway of her hips as she works along with the fluid movements of her paintbrush are mesmerizing.
“Cedar!” she yelps, and I jolt forward, already reaching for her. “Look down there!” She points at the creek, her words squeaking with excitement.
Three wolves trail along the creek, the largest a dark gray, followed by a solid white wolf, and finally a smaller silvery wolf with bulging sides. Their forms are as familiar as my own.
“Oh, are those wolves? That one looks pregnant! That’s amazing,” Aurora says, creeping closer to the edge to get a better look.
“Woah, be careful,” I say, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze back, but she continues to lean forward to peer down at the creek.
The white wolf bounds across the water and disappears into the trees. The darkest one turns to the little silver wolf and licks her muzzle. Together, they turn south and pad out of view.
“That was incredible,” she breathes. “I didn’t know there were wolves around here.”
“Only a few,” I say. “They’re pretty elusive.”
“So we aren’t worried about coming across them while hiking?” she asks with an elated grin. I shake my head.
