Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [9]
Instead the creature whined, deep in its throat. Abruptly it turned and ran, tail between its legs. Other dogs ran after it, a whole pack. What could scare a pack of wild dogs?
I heard panting behind me and felt hot breath on my arms. Clutching my knife, I stood and turned.
I saw—not a dog, not quite. Its eyes were too bright, its teeth too sharp, its fur as much silver as gray. The creature snarled as it watched the pack retreat. Its lips were drawn back, its ears and tail erect. Blood dripped from a hind leg. Dark gray markings around the eyes and nose gave the creature a strange look, too intelligent for a dog. A word came to mind—wolf, though I'd never seen one save in Kate's old books. I backed away, getting the fire between myself and the creature. Tallow hissed and retreated beneath Matthew's pack. With my free hand I drew a burning branch from the flames.
The wolf growled. For a moment I was sure it would attack. But then it shuddered, and silver light flowed over its gray fur. It shook off the light like Tallow might shake off water. Tail and teeth drew inward. Fur retreated from arms and chest and legs. The creature's eyes lost their bright wildness as it stood on two legs, leaving behind—
“Matthew?” My voice sounded far away, like someone else's voice. He was naked, shivering in the firelight, blood dripping from a ragged wound in his right calf. He stretched uncomfortably, as if uncertain how to wear his own skin.
“You—” Words stuck in my throat. Matthew ran a hand through loose hair that suddenly resembled fine fur.
He didn't seem to notice his lack of clothes. I couldn't stop noticing, though, seeing far more than I should have. Matthew looked down at his bleeding leg, then up at me. He seemed small and scared compared to the wolf he'd been.
Magic. I'd never heard of magic like this. I should have helped him. I should have offered him a blanket, cut cloth to bind his wound. I should at least have thanked him for saving my life. Yet I could only stare. How could Matthew possibly be a wolf?
Matthew looked at the knife I held, blood dripping from the blade. He reached forward, and I handed him the knife, wondering why anyone with teeth and claws would need such a weapon. My blistered fingers stung. Liquid oozed where the blisters had burst.
Matthew wiped the blood off with the blanket I'd dropped near the fire, then held the knife into the flames to cleanse it further. He reached for the blanket again and cut off several long strips of wool. He dampened the first strip with water and used it to clean the gash in his leg. The other strips he turned into bandages that he wrapped around his wound.
Matthew looked around the fire and found his clothes scattered nearby. They weren't torn, which made no sense. I turned away as he pulled on wool socks and underwear, feeling a flush crawl up my cheeks.
“Thank you, Liza.” A fully clothed and booted Matthew returned my knife to me. His own knife now hung from his belt. It must have been with his clothes. He scanned the ground, picked up a strip of leather, and tied his hair back.
He looked so ordinary, just the same quiet boy I'd always known. No, not boy—I looked down at my knife as my face grew hotter. I touched my cheek and was surprised to feel dried blood there. Matthew took the corn-meal from the fire and set the pot down on the ground, limping a little as he did. Tallow crept out from her hiding place and moved closer to the flames, licking dog blood from her fur. Matthew crouched near the fire. I found myself putting distance between us once more. “How long?” I asked, my voice strange and thin.
“Two years.” Matthew spoke softly but without shame.
“Ever since …” My voice trailed off.
Matthew rubbed at his scarred wrist. “When Cam called the brambles—they grabbed me just like they grabbed Mom and Dad. I should have died with them.
The thorns dug in so deep