Page 99 of Spar of Hearts

Mine. He’s mine, mine, try to take him and I’ll—

“Just a few miles south,” an exhausted man replied.

“I’m tired, Papa. My paws hurt.”

“Think about the breakfast we’ll have at Virherrgan’s Place. I’ll even let you eat the blueberries on my pannu kakku.”

Anya’s growl disappeared. Panuka-what?

“Eee! Thank you, Papa!” Yips of joy bounced off the trees.

“Ay! Soren! Watch your tail!”

“Oo-pah, sorry.”

The cluster of steps and voices faded ahead of them. They carried an accent Anya had never heard before, with w’s that sounded distinctly like v’s, and an almost melodic quality to the lilt up at the end of each sentence.

Roderick feigned a gasp. “Oh no! A child! Thank you for protecting me!”

Anya shoved him into the side of the shelter, sending the entire thing collapsing atop them. She shifted in the privacy of the pile, then popped up between the mass of twigs and fir boughs, throwing twigs off her head with a dramatic shake. Roderick followed suit, and they looked at each other and laughed. She was grateful for the distraction from the feelings-analysis unfolding before. It was best to keep that unwritten.

The result would only be a recipe for heartache.

Roderick brushed a few leaves from his arms. He almost offered her a hand as he stood, then thought better of it. Anya stared up at him and huffed through her nose.

You’ve got sap in your hair.

“Yeah? There’s a whole bird’s nest in here!” Roderick ruffled her fur, mussing it the wrong way. She shook it back into place and stood.

Oh, piss off and come on, she barked, leaping from the pile on to the mossy path. Let’s follow their trail!

An intriguing combination of paws and shoe prints preceded their way. Just like on the beach, Anya could sense so much more than normal. The travelers ahead of them had eaten venison, and the youngest was clearly a messy eater, given the amount of meat stuck in their claws.

The sun streamed between the pink blossoming canopy overhead, warming Anya’s bones with every step. Despite her own shabby state, optimism was growing in her. A town was just a ways away. They’d find a map, plot a route, take a damn bath, and find the Lupus Star in no time. Thank the Moon, too. She needed Blackbird.

She needed to spill her guts before she did something she couldn’t take back.

Roderick Bryson

Roderick’s pulse kicked up as the dirt path slowly turned to gravel, then polished cobblestone. A town had to be close.

The route followed the base of the snow-capped mountains that carved out the contours of the river. He smiled as he watched Anya trotting alongside him, her nose wiggling furiously.

Anya’s simplified, wolfish thoughts occasionally flitted into his mind, like he was cupping his hands over his ears, then removing them quickly over and over.

Splinters. Horse manure. Apple seeds.

More audible sniffing.

Leather.

He bit his lip. Not a single thought about what happened earlier. Was the natural ability to wall her thoughts off ingrained in Anya already? Or did she think so little of their intimate moments together?

Squirrel. Mushroom.

He seemed like an open book to Yomira, but Anya gave no hint that she heard his inner turmoil. This morning was the most torturous pleasure of his life. The way Anya said his name in such a delicious hush as she rubbed her cheek on his chest was intoxicating.

The Lycanian love language. He knew it likely included platonic love too. Ornella was a touchy being too, even with Gail and Annette. But those were casual touches, like a hand to a shoulder or a hug.