Interludes

Eleven Years Ago

It had been weeks, and she was no closer to getting back to Portland.

She wasn't even sure what was waiting for her there, or if she even wanted to return. The more she stayed, the more it seemed like she was just in the same situation she was there. No home, no money, no stability.

She just wished there was some things she could do herself around here.

She couldn't hunt, she couldn't cook. She didn't even have the money to buy food or clothing from the stands they passed on their journeys back and forth into towns. Beyond that, she doesn't even have the skill to swipe anything from them.

But here she had him, at least, to help her find some semblance of those things.

She cursed to herself as she struggled to fit the neck of the dress over her head. She didn't want to depend on anyone else. She didn't need people.

She used to be able to do everything on her own. Granted, Neal had helped the last week before she'd got there. He had more knowledge at his twenty-five years, had had cool jobs and knew about stretching what little money they had …. They had gotten into a bout of one-upping each other, or she would dumb herself down so he could "teach" her things. But that was different. She didn't depend on Neal.

She hated that she depended on the wolf boy for everything out there.

Maybe that was a reason to get back. At least she knew how things worked over in her world, could make it work on the streets. Out here was wolves and fairies and mean townspeople and a strange feeling that swelled up at night that she just didn't understand.

And also him. She looked around the trunk of the tree, finding him sitting at the fire pit. His back was turned, and she could make out the muscles over his shoulder blades as he struck a rock to start the fire.

She blushed slightly, feeling the other thing to worry about spark in her stomach. She didn't want to think about how spending all this time together was something she enjoyed, and not just for the sake of her wellbeing.

She stepped out from behind the tree, smoothing down the rough fabric. It was a long, large, dusty colored dress, and very ill-fitting. He had returned to camp before she woke this morning with it. He admitted he had noticed the caked on mud, grass stains, and blood on her jeans and presented the clothing to her awkwardly during their morning meal.

He glanced up when she cleared her throat, eyes sweeping over her form. "It's a bit big," he commented.

She looked down and shrugged. "At least I'll fit in a bit more when we go into town," she said. "Maybe a belt?"

He rose and wiped his hands on his pants. "It won't help the shoulders. They're falling off you."

She turned her head, finding the slip of material exposing her collarbone. She shrugged. "I guess it's a little less modest that what the other women wear when we go out."

He gave the bare smile that she had gotten used to before he reached into his bag. "I've a needle and thread, if you want it to fit better."

She glowered at him, irritation rolling through her to replace the spark of attraction. Yet another thing she couldn't do. "I don't need you doing anything else for me," she grit out.

He raised his hands in deference to her tone, and sat back on the log. "I could teach you, if you want?" he offered, blue eyes wide and unsure.

She bit her lip and pulled at the skirt of her dress. It hung loose over her waist, and the neck swung in a mass of fabric that she could only pull to bunch over her back or stomach. It was definitely too big, and it would definitely be helped by a little tailoring. "You won't take over?" she asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not if you don't want me to."

She hesitated and then joined him near the fire, watching the flames dance for a moment. She grimaced and turned to the tree line. "I need to change out of it again?"

He shook his head and took her wrist to pull her to standing. He grasped the excess fabric at the left of her hip and bunched it, then reached for a pen in his bag. "Mark it first."

She shivered, feeling as his knuckles accidentally brushed her waist through the thick fabric. They never really touched outside of sleep and holding each other's hand. Being in his space seemed too close, and she looked up at him through her lashes as she made a curve on the fabric.

"Good, now here," he indicated, nodding to the other bunch in hand.

His feet were now planted right in front of her, his tall form insulating her from the breeze off the creek. His head was tucked down to reach her, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Her hands shook as she made her next mark, jagged and staccato since she kept looking for his face.

"Okay, now the shoulders," he said, and loosened his grip. He hesitated, and met her eye. "I'll need to do those, if you let me."

She nodded. She watched his face carefully as he pulled the shoulders up, expression attentive. "Where'd you learn this, anyway?"

He shrugged up one shoulder. "I make my own things. Have to out here. When I was younger someone taught me."

She glances down at his clothing, the wide stiches on his bag and the neat ones at the hem of his kerchief. She should have guessed, but they had wandered into town so often over the past weeks that she had just assumed he had traded for his things just like he traded for different foods.

"I used to trade for heavier clothing during the winter," he continued, dark lashes moving across his cheek as he explained. "But I taught myself from how they were made, too, until I could do it myself."

"Oh," she said simply, trying to find a coherent answer in herself.

He glanced up, noticing her stare. "I don't usually like to go to town as often as we do," he explained.

She frowned. "Well, why are we, then?"

He looked slightly embarrassed, made his mark, and then stepped back a few paces. "I don't have enough for us both."

Oh. She crossed her arms. "I don't need charity."

He kicked at a stone in his path and nodded to the tree. "Change."

She huffed and stormed off, grabbing her dirty clothes along the way.

"It's not charity."

He had waited until she was behind the tree to speak, so she poked her head around to glare at him pointedly. "How is it not?" she spit back, and then stepped back into her jeans.

He sighed heavily. She yanked her tank down over her head and brought the dress over her arm before stepping back to the camp. He had his head cocked to the side, studying her. "I don't usually like having people around. They never like me, I never like them."

She stopped short, tensing in shock. Bitterness trickled within her, so much she could taste it, like salt water at the back of her throat. She squared her shoulders. So, this was it. He'd make her leave, so he could be alone again. She would go off and try to make it on her own.

She wondered why the thought of leaving him made her heart heave more than the idea of the unfamiliar.

His hand shot out and grabbed hers before she could think, and he locked eyes with her as their fingers entwined. "I think you should stay as long as you want."

She froze. His eyes were bluer, messy curls wandering into them. He looked boyish and pleading, those big eyes asking her not to make him say the words. I don't like people, but I like you. She bit her lip, and ducked her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. "Okay."

He released her hand, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Okay."

They sat, barely looking at each other as he retrieved a needle and thread. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and she wiped her hands over her jeans a few times. "Thanks," she said.

He looked up, but only threaded the needle in hand.

Her shoulder rose and she crumpled the fabric on her lap. "For teaching me, instead of just doing it for me," she offered.

He barely smiled, eyes flicking up to hers before darting away. "I'll teach you whatever you want," he said simply and handed her the needle.

She felt her face warm, and smiled back at him shyly. She believed him.

He guided her through her first stitch, careful to keep his hands from touching her as she worked. After the first messy attempts, she looked up at his eyes again.

Mentally, she added another point in the "pro" column for staying.

Time passed quickly in her presence.

His brother was comfortable with her to the point that it was incomprehensible. He was fully healed now, but he still continued to laze near her whenever she was reading, tending to back up to her and keep watch when she wandered away to bathe. He'd never known the wolf to act this way around any human.

He noticed that he was getting as comfortable and protective of her as the animal was, too.

He didn't understand why he liked being around her.

She was easy to be around, for certain. Though she her emotions could whiplash, bitter and defensive just as often as soft and patient, she never stayed harsh for long. Her presence became comfort more akin to his family than any person he'd ever met. But the feeling was different than that, too: it wasn't like with his brother, what he felt for her.

He just didn't have the words to describe what it could be.

He looked up from his book, staring at her between trying to read about tannery. He wasn't sure he had retained any of the last six pages of the book and he'd read the same paragraph about nine times.

She was in the patch of sun the canopy of trees in their little space created. On her stomach, legs kicked up, and her nose in one of his other books. Her skin was a soft peachy color in the light, her hair still as golden as ever. She looked engrossed in the pages, focused. He liked that she enjoyed what little he had.

She glanced up, smiling and blushing a little before going back to her page, teeth worrying her lower lip ever so slightly.

His brother made a low noise and rolled over, catching the rays of sun as well and nuzzling up to her. His good eye shut to a squint, lazy and relaxed.

He rather enjoyed when they had a chance to just be quiet in each other's presence.

She turned a page and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "When do we have to go back to town?" she asked.

He put his book to the side and glanced up at the mountains across the inlet. The snows were almost melted. "We have enough things for the next couple days. Why? You want to go in?"

They had been to several of the villages at the forest's edge. He had been to most before, always the same disdain and unease felt from the inhabitants each time.

It was easier to blend with her, especially once he'd gotten her the dress he'd bartered for. People didn't stare and comment under their breath half as much when she was at his side, though once he was recognized the sneers were perhaps a little harsher.

He had never really cared about these people's opinions, anyway, though it did make his trips much simpler now. Having her at his side was more than that, though. He found that he simply liked her company.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. She stretched her arms out and then reached to touch the scruff of the wolf's neck tentatively before he let her scratch him. "I'm actually kinda comfortable here. I'd rather stick around a bit."

His ears perked up, and he ducked his head. "It's a good spot," he said. "Quiet, isolated. Mostly hidden, so long as we keep our voices down. I've had this one as my main camp for a good year now."

"A year?" she repeated, and moved to sit cross legged. Her eyes swept from one end of the inlet to the other. "It doesn't look like a place you could stay in that long."

He shrugged. "We follow the food."

"Huh?"

He jut his chin to his brother. "The deer, the boars, all of them have a pattern that follows the seasons. We simply follow it."

Her brow furrowed. "But you're still here?"

He nodded. "Those are just temporary shelters, ones I can make in a hurry or can carry on my back. But we have a few places like this set, just to store our things. Sometimes the other places get discovered, and I have to abandon that camp. This one kinda stuck, though."

"Oh," she said, and blinked. "But you like it here, then?"

He pressed his lips together, sweeping over her form. He met her eye, and finally nodded. "Yeah," he finally said. "I like it here."

She leaned her chin on folded hands, green eyes set on him from across the way. She flashed a quick show of teeth, neatly aligned and white, before she hid under her curls. "I like it, too."

He swallowed and looked away sharply. He felt his stomach dip, a scatter of flight inside him before he couldn't help a wide smile. "I'm glad."

It still got cold during the night, so sudden it would wake her from sleep if he was too far away. He said it was an issue near the creek during the middle of Spring, would temper off in the coming months as it melted to Summer. For now, they had an unspoken agreement that they would share their bed space, tucking into each other wordlessly each night after they ate dinner.

She studied him as she struggled to get to sleep, turning from inside the capture of his arm to examine his face in repose. He went to sleep easily, barely needing to turn on the hard ground before he drifted off. He could come awake just as easily, but she envied his ability to rest anywhere without issue.

She used to read when insomnia got bad, at least she used to back at the homes. That worked some days here, when the moon was bright enough and the fog dissipated. The energy buzzed when the moon was fuller, the air so thick with whatever it was that she could almost touch it.

When those things didn't occur, though, she needed to find other outlets. With few things left, she would study her companion's face.

She liked his face, liked familiarizing herself with it. But this was the conclusion she came up with tonight: she liked his smile.

Wide and bright and instinctual, it was a rare thing to catch on him. It made his whole face light up, the bare catch of dimples on his cheeks both youthful and beautiful.

Usually, he hid any mirth under his daily tasks or a change in subject. Or, if he allowed it, it would show as a quirk of the lips, barely touching the rest of his features. His true smile was a thing of wonder. She decided then and there that she would do what she could to coax it out, to facilitate the stunning event.

The first time she saw it made her heart flutter before she could stop it. The second time, the time she knew that she wasn't about to leave him forever, made it worse.

She admitted to herself, barely before tucking it down, that she was getting attached.

She reached up, hovering a finger above his eyebrows, his nose, his cheek. She didn't dare touch him, quite aware of how lightly he slept. But she took the time to memorize each piece, to comfort herself in the familiarity.

Why did she want to see him that way? When she though he was at his most handsome, his most content? Why did she want to be the one to draw it from him?

Maybe "getting attached" wasn't the right words.

But it was all she could admit to at the moment.

Her heart swelled when he moved in sleep, tucking her closer and resting his cheek on the crown of her head. He smelled of greenery and campfire, and she inhaled deeply. Her eyes grew heavy and she rolled again, bringing his arm closer around her waist.

She pushed into him, creating no space between them, and slowly drifted off.

It was safe to say she was used to this.

He barely noticed as the end of the month approached again until he caught sight of a group of hunters as he came back with new meat.

He rushed behind a tree, heart thundering as the crowd stomped boisterously through the forest. They seemed just as dirty, loud, and incompetent as the other times he'd seen them, but their presence sent a bolt of fear despite the fact.

The still could harm his family, very easily.

He glanced toward the entrance to the inlet camp, where his brother and Emma would be waiting. He needed to get to them and get them moving, in the opposite pattern of the group.

He snuck into the brush once a few beats passed, panic widening his eyes and narrowing his focus to Emma and his brother. She noticed his alarm immediately, rising to her feet and dropping a book to the ground.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice hushed instinctually.

He indicated the entrance with his eyes, and then slung his bag over his arm next to the quiver and bow already there. "Only what you need," he said seriously.

She nodded and grabbed the bag he taught her to make a week ago. He caught the fear in her eyes, but she was efficient. "Med supplies?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Hopefully not," he muttered.

His brother was absolutely silent and ran around Emma's legs once before rushing to his side.

He pointed to the covering of trees. "Quickly," he whispered.

She gave no protest, and was at his side in seconds. Her face was scrunched up in determination, and his lips trembled up to see it. She watched as his brother forged ahead, snaking his way through the bushes to scamper ahead. "He'll be okay?"

He nodded and took her hand in his. "He has his own hideaway. He'll join us later. Come."

She nodded and squeezed his hand as she jumped ahead, pulling him along.

When they had gone far enough in the opposite direction, he stopped them, listening hard.

"It's them, right? They're back?" she asked, panting heavily as she tried to keep her voice at a whisper. Her eyes were wide, scanning the direction they'd come from.

He entwined their fingers and swallowed. "Yes."

She closed her eyes and gave one firm nod. "Why did we have to leave? Wouldn't they follow the herd?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I know their migration patterns, but these stupid humans do not. They'd rather trample over the entire area and come back empty handed than listen to what common sense tells them," he spits out.

She nudged into him, and he relaxed at the prompting. He didn't even realize how tense he'd gotten. "What will we do, then?"

He shook his head. "They won't find the entrance so long as we aren't there. They'll clear out of the immediate area in a day or so."

She nodded. "Okay. Doable," she murmured.

He reached to the knife at his belt, rubbing the handle as he watched her, finding the sharp bit of fear and protectiveness bleed over once more. "I'll keep you safe."

She blinked and tried to smile at him, strained and scared but willing to believe.

He realized in a second how much it felt like she was his family.

He shivered uncontrollably and turned away. No, that wasn't right. No human could be his family, not after what he's gone through.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, finding her piecing through their supplies.

Not a chance.

He'd just ignore the feeling in his chest.

After spending the night in a quick shelter he'd made on the fly, he'd led them to town to bring the steer he'd managed to pack most of to sell.

He was quick to trade, coins jingling in his hand as he led her to the food stands.

She was in a newer dress, one she'd actually bought with him at a village a few miles back. It had come with a corset, one nice enough to allow the cheaper dress to make her look less poor on their outings. She just liked that it made four outfits out of the two. And she also liked that it made his eyes drift down whenever he forgot himself.

They'd head back to camp that evening, he'd said, and she was eager to return. She liked the inlet. She liked the fire pit, the books, the creek. It was familiar and easy, and she felt safe there.

The food was strange, she decided. Barely anything was familiar, apart from the glowing red apples and the appearance of meat. Flavors were blended in alien forms. She peered up at him curiously as she bit into her skewer. She was relieved to see his face screwed up in mirrored confusion as he ate.

"I don't eat out here much," he said softly when he noticed her staring.

She ducked her head slightly, embarrassed to be caught. "Sorry. Guess you prefer to get your own meats, right?"

He gave a half shrug, using a hand at her elbow to guide her gently to the stalls further down. "With those men, we couldn't have managed on what I find alone. We had to come to town and get the surplus food if we were going to survive any longer. I've done it before, it's just …."

He trailed off, and he looked embarrassed. He scratched his ear, eyes darting away nervously. "What?" she pressed.

He grimaced and ate another bite of his meat, still avoiding her gaze. "It's the more expensive kind," he mumbled.

"Oh," she said simply, looking down at the stick. It was definitely spiced more intensely than anything she'd eaten in the last few weeks. It was good, if strange, and she found a flick of regret in her gut. "I'm sorry we had to waste your money on it."

"No," he said, shortly, gruffly. He sighed and kicked at the dirt. "I wanted you to have something better."

She blinked, hard. She swallowed slightly, and ducked her head a little. Shyly, she nudged into him. "Thank you."

He was silent a long moment. "You're welcome."

She grinned to herself as she looked through the next stand, books piled high along the cart. She looked at every book cart they passed, though it was becoming more and more perfunctory over the weeks. Her hope that she'd find something to send her home became a little less each time. Her fingers tripped along spines, scrolling through unfamiliar title after unfamiliar title. Misthaven Rulers. Candlemaking. … Portals .… "Oh! Names," she said, presenting the book to her companion with a bright grin. "I might finally find something to call you."

He rolled his eyes, silent as he continued to eat.

She turned and gave a stiff, unsure smile to the man who owned the stand. Some of the vendors didn't like her browsing, as she'd learned the first time, but others didn't mind much. Or, at least, they didn't mind until they noticed her companion. But this vendor only watched with dark, reptilian eyes but didn't insist on her paying. She didn't like the look he was giving her, so she quickly flipped through the pages.

Her thumb rested beside a name, and her breath hitched. She looked up at her wolf boy, his brow arched in plain question.

She shut the book with a snap and gave a guileless smile. "Nothing."

"Are you sure of that, dearie?"

She turned to the man and shoved the book back on its stack. "Certain," she replied crisply.

The boy grabbed her arm, steering her away. She followed easily, giving a glare to the shop owner once more before refocusing on her friend. "You sounded very sure," he said, and there was something slightly teasing to his voice.

She felt a blush creep over her neck, remembering the solid definition beside the name, the one that struck such a chord in her that it didn't make sense. "Probably not," she said. "Probably too much."

His brows quirked. "Too much?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Too much."

Because she shouldn't look at this boy who lived with wolves and believed in magic and bought her food and protected her from strangers, and think that home was the best way to describe him.