Page 92 of Spar of Hearts

The fuzzy feeling of mirth in her chest subsided, giving way to the feelings she’d smothered under conversation. Her mind wandered as Roderick continued his tales.

Roderick’s life wasn’t just Petorus. Being a knight-commander had given him opportunities she could only dream of. He’d been to every inch of Valeria twice over, and wet his blade with the blood of monsters she’d only read about. He’d even contacted the recluse clans of Kobolds deep in the Caves of Coria.

How could she rip him away from that life? He was a noble, yes, but he was hardly a sit-behind-a-desk sort of man. When he had a problem, he took action with sword and mount over quill pen and paper. The only battles she had fought were against greasy palms, legalese, and sharp words uttered behind noble backs.

Exhaustion reared its head. Her steps dragged along the mossy path. She couldn’t tell if it was from the weight of the emotions swirling in her head, or the lack of sleep. Or both. She detested the morass of irrational thought in her head. Irrational, in that it shouldn’t exist in the first place.

Stars above, it was so much simpler when she hated him. She forced her gait to quicken and catch up to Roderick.

“—and then Octavio tried to shake the Kobold’s hand, and it bit him! The Kobold said he thought it was an offering. His hand. He thought Octavio was literally offering to let him eat his hand!”

When she didn’t laugh with him, Roderick turned his head to her, then halted his step.

“Anya? What’s wrong? I know you aren’t upset about Octavio’s hand.”

“Nothing,” she murmured.

“Anya,” he repeated, his tone trying to massage the truth out of her.

She sighed. “I’m tired, all right? I’m tired, and it isn’t even dark yet. Not that that should matter, I was nocturnal until two days ago. But—”

“But what?”

“But my body seems to crave a diurnal cycle. Like…like a human!” She growled the last word, flaring her nostrils. Humans were fine. But not when their habits leaked into her.

Roderick stared into her eyes. “Listen to me. Nothing about you is human. You aren’t part human, part wolf. You are Lycanian, through and through. And when all this is over, you’ll be back to snoozing in the sunlight and basking in the stars, I swear it.”

He pulled her into the circle of his arms and rested his chin on her head. Even though his promise wasn’t possible, her frustration softened.

“However,” he released her and peered at the horizon, “we should set up camp while we still have some light.”

“Camp? Do you have a tent shoved up your ass?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Tricks up my sleeve, more like. Follow me, Princess.” He grasped her hand and led her off the path and into the woods. Underbrush crunched beneath their feet. Cicadas began to click the further they went. Roderick squeezed her fingers every few feet, as if to check that he wasn’t dragging her snoring corpse along with him.

“What are we looking for?”

“This.” Roderick let her hand go. He knelt down and muscled up a hollow log, then cracked it in half and surveyed the pieces proudly. “Behold, our shelter.”

Anya stared at the crumbling, moss-laden halves. Pillbugs writhed on the undersides.

Her nose crinkled. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Roderick gasped. “Is the Princess afraid of a few creepy crawlies?” He wiggled his fingers like a spider walking. “Careful. You may become a living cliché.”

“Oh she’s not. But she’s also not afraid to sleep out in the open, if it means she won’t wake up with grubs in her ears.”

Roderick cracked each piece in half again, sending the bugs flying. “There. Problem solved. And now I have four posts.”

Roderick’s stomach growled. He offered her a sheepish grin.

“While you work your…whatever this is,” Anya waved her hands wildly, “I’ll find us something to eat.”

“I’ll take a mug of ale while you’re at it!” Roderick shouted after her. She chuckled and dipped behind a tree far enough from his sight, then stripped off her dress and shifted. The sights and smells of the forest instantly overwhelmed her. Everything was new. Everything. Even the familiar signature of the downy birch trees had a new intensity to it. Trails of scents cris-crossed in every direction. A squirrel up a tree. Nesting birds. A hare expecting a litter. Rodents, rodents, more rodents. Something tall, with the musky odor of a mule deer, but softer.

She stalked through the woods, burning the last of her energy on the hunt. After a stubbed nose and an unfortunate run-in with a bull thistle, Anya headed back to camp with a warm, white hare clamped in her jaws. Satisfaction seeped into her bones. Catching a hare was probably not something to gloat about, wolfishly-speaking. But for her, it was a little victory over the human influences in her life.

Her tail beat back and forth as she drew closer. She couldn’t wait to show Roderick. She wanted to see his eyes light up when she dropped the hare at his feet.