A Clan of Novaks
Page 19
So this werewolf really can shift at will…
He padded up to me and nudged my hands with his head, guiding them to grip hold of the fur at the back of his neck. I acquiesced, sliding my fingers through his sleek hair. With two hands and one working leg, I managed to pull myself onto his back.
“Be sure to hold on tight, Lady Vaughn,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling.
“Uh, you can just call me Victoria,” I muttered. I gripped hold of him as tightly as I could before he launched into a sprint that knocked the breath out of me. As he bounded through the woods, low-hanging branches whipped past us, and I ducked down, pressing the side of my face against the back of his neck and closing my eyes, afraid to get injured. Pain shot through my ankle. This bumpy journey was the exact opposite of what it needed, but I had no choice but to grit my teeth and bear it. Hopefully when we got to his hideout, wherever that even was, I would have a chance to rest it. What I really could use is some ice.
It seemed like an eternity had passed—certainly several hours—before we finally reached the edge of the woods and emerged into a wide open meadow filled with luscious-smelling, bright purple flowers I could not put a name to. Now that we were out of the dense woodland, I could see that dawn was on the cusp of breaking. The sky was streaked with the most breathtaking hues of pink and peach.
As Bastien continued to charge forward at breakneck speed, I wondered whether he ever needed a break. I got my answer once we had reached the other side of the meadow and entered yet another wood. We reached a river that ran through it and here he finally slowed to a stop. He lowered himself to the ground, allowing me to slide down onto a patch of grass by the bank. Even though my feet had not touched the ground once throughout the journey, every muscle in my body ached from the strain of clinging to him.
I flopped onto my back, panting. He left my side and approached the water. Dipping his head, he began to take long, deep gulps. That was when I became aware of just how dehydrated I was. Trying to move my ankle as little as possible, I crawled up to the edge of the river next to him before cupping my palms and scooping up water. It didn’t even cross my mind to wonder how clean this water was before swallowing. But now that I examined it more closely, I had never seen such pristine, sparkling water. And it tasted so pure, it was almost sweet.
I chugged down as much water as my stomach could take before letting out a slow breath. Bastien finished drinking and waded into the water. The current looked pretty wild toward the center of the river—I certainly would never dare to swim that deep, even if my ankle was not injured—but for Bastien, it was like taking a dip in a wading pool.
He sank into the current and I lost sight of him for several moments before he resurfaced and shook out his heavy mane, sending water raining in all directions. Then he paused to cast a glance my way.
“Are you hungry?” he called.
Hungry? My stomach could do with some food, but I really had no appetite. I shook my head.
Bastien grunted. “Neither am I,” he confessed. “But we ought to eat nonetheless.”
He submerged again and this time when he came to the surface he was gripping what I thought at first sight was an odd, bulbous eel. But as he made his way back to me and climbed out of the water, I realized that it was some kind of slimy weed, the strangest weed I’d ever seen. It was long, rubbery and milky white. Translucent bulbs protruded from it every few millimeters, the size of plums, filled with a mucousy liquid. He laid it down on the grass and gestured to it with his nose.
I looked at it suspiciously. “What is this exactly?”
“River weed.”
Yeah, I gathered that.
“River weed is good to eat when you don’t feel like eating. It gives strength without weighing down.”
Still, I hesitated, feeling less hungry than ever as I eyed the strange, gooey weed.
When I glanced up at Bastien again, I was taken aback by a look of intense concern in his eyes, the type of concern a nurturing parent would give an underfed child. I frowned at him, wondering why he was giving me such a stare. “What?” I asked.
“You should eat it,” he said, now moving his head forward and nudging my hands with the tip of his nose again, guiding them toward the plant. The same way he had guided them to the fur behind his neck several hours ago.
“All right,” I said, even as I gulped. “Is it these bubbles that I’m supposed to eat?”
“The glands, yes.”
Glands… I preferred my description.
Gingerly, I closed my fingers around one of the bulbs at the tip and jerked it upward. It plucked off easily, like a ripe peach from a tree.
“You can eat it all,” he encouraged, still watching me closely.
I held my nose before quickly stuffing it into my mouth. I didn’t want to prolong this any further. As I chewed, the bubble’s rubbery surface burst and the snotty substance filled my mouth. I expected it to taste disgusting, but it didn’t taste like much at all. Just… slightly salty. It was more the texture of it as it glided down my throat.
Still, my wolf companion was not satisfied. He nudged my hands again to pluck another one, and then another, and another. Until I had eaten five in total.
“Ugh,” I spluttered, swallowing the last mouthful. “That’s enough.” I crawled back to the river to down some more water. When I turned, it was to see Bastien had taken the whole strand in his mouth, along with all the remaining bulbs, and chewed it all down in one go. Then he joined me for another drink.
He padded up to me and nudged my hands with his head, guiding them to grip hold of the fur at the back of his neck. I acquiesced, sliding my fingers through his sleek hair. With two hands and one working leg, I managed to pull myself onto his back.
“Be sure to hold on tight, Lady Vaughn,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling.
“Uh, you can just call me Victoria,” I muttered. I gripped hold of him as tightly as I could before he launched into a sprint that knocked the breath out of me. As he bounded through the woods, low-hanging branches whipped past us, and I ducked down, pressing the side of my face against the back of his neck and closing my eyes, afraid to get injured. Pain shot through my ankle. This bumpy journey was the exact opposite of what it needed, but I had no choice but to grit my teeth and bear it. Hopefully when we got to his hideout, wherever that even was, I would have a chance to rest it. What I really could use is some ice.
It seemed like an eternity had passed—certainly several hours—before we finally reached the edge of the woods and emerged into a wide open meadow filled with luscious-smelling, bright purple flowers I could not put a name to. Now that we were out of the dense woodland, I could see that dawn was on the cusp of breaking. The sky was streaked with the most breathtaking hues of pink and peach.
As Bastien continued to charge forward at breakneck speed, I wondered whether he ever needed a break. I got my answer once we had reached the other side of the meadow and entered yet another wood. We reached a river that ran through it and here he finally slowed to a stop. He lowered himself to the ground, allowing me to slide down onto a patch of grass by the bank. Even though my feet had not touched the ground once throughout the journey, every muscle in my body ached from the strain of clinging to him.
I flopped onto my back, panting. He left my side and approached the water. Dipping his head, he began to take long, deep gulps. That was when I became aware of just how dehydrated I was. Trying to move my ankle as little as possible, I crawled up to the edge of the river next to him before cupping my palms and scooping up water. It didn’t even cross my mind to wonder how clean this water was before swallowing. But now that I examined it more closely, I had never seen such pristine, sparkling water. And it tasted so pure, it was almost sweet.
I chugged down as much water as my stomach could take before letting out a slow breath. Bastien finished drinking and waded into the water. The current looked pretty wild toward the center of the river—I certainly would never dare to swim that deep, even if my ankle was not injured—but for Bastien, it was like taking a dip in a wading pool.
He sank into the current and I lost sight of him for several moments before he resurfaced and shook out his heavy mane, sending water raining in all directions. Then he paused to cast a glance my way.
“Are you hungry?” he called.
Hungry? My stomach could do with some food, but I really had no appetite. I shook my head.
Bastien grunted. “Neither am I,” he confessed. “But we ought to eat nonetheless.”
He submerged again and this time when he came to the surface he was gripping what I thought at first sight was an odd, bulbous eel. But as he made his way back to me and climbed out of the water, I realized that it was some kind of slimy weed, the strangest weed I’d ever seen. It was long, rubbery and milky white. Translucent bulbs protruded from it every few millimeters, the size of plums, filled with a mucousy liquid. He laid it down on the grass and gestured to it with his nose.
I looked at it suspiciously. “What is this exactly?”
“River weed.”
Yeah, I gathered that.
“River weed is good to eat when you don’t feel like eating. It gives strength without weighing down.”
Still, I hesitated, feeling less hungry than ever as I eyed the strange, gooey weed.
When I glanced up at Bastien again, I was taken aback by a look of intense concern in his eyes, the type of concern a nurturing parent would give an underfed child. I frowned at him, wondering why he was giving me such a stare. “What?” I asked.
“You should eat it,” he said, now moving his head forward and nudging my hands with the tip of his nose again, guiding them toward the plant. The same way he had guided them to the fur behind his neck several hours ago.
“All right,” I said, even as I gulped. “Is it these bubbles that I’m supposed to eat?”
“The glands, yes.”
Glands… I preferred my description.
Gingerly, I closed my fingers around one of the bulbs at the tip and jerked it upward. It plucked off easily, like a ripe peach from a tree.
“You can eat it all,” he encouraged, still watching me closely.
I held my nose before quickly stuffing it into my mouth. I didn’t want to prolong this any further. As I chewed, the bubble’s rubbery surface burst and the snotty substance filled my mouth. I expected it to taste disgusting, but it didn’t taste like much at all. Just… slightly salty. It was more the texture of it as it glided down my throat.
Still, my wolf companion was not satisfied. He nudged my hands again to pluck another one, and then another, and another. Until I had eaten five in total.
“Ugh,” I spluttered, swallowing the last mouthful. “That’s enough.” I crawled back to the river to down some more water. When I turned, it was to see Bastien had taken the whole strand in his mouth, along with all the remaining bulbs, and chewed it all down in one go. Then he joined me for another drink.
