For just an instant, the shape-shifter went absolutely still. Then he made a low growling sound. "Don't be so sure of that. It's early yet. If you live long enough, you might surprise yourself."
Bek let that pass. Truls Rohk was giving him just enough to keep him happy, but not everything. There was something more that he wasn't revealing, some important piece of information he was keeping to himself. It was probably true that he felt a connection to Bek, that he felt it in part because of the magic and in part because he had saved the boy's life. It was also probably true that he had come on the voyage because it gave him purpose and insight and satisfied his need to be involved with something. Living alone in the Wolfsktaag might well be too confining, too restrictive. But that was still only part of what had brought him along, and the greater part, the larger truth, lay somewhere else in his bag of secrets.
"Why don't you ever take off your cloak?" Bek asked suddenly, impulsively.
He did it without thinking, but knowing even so that it would generate a strong response. It did. He could feel a change in the other, instantly, a chilling withdrawal that whispered of anger and frustration and sadness, as well, but he did not back off.
"Why don't you ever show me your face?" he pressed.
Truls Rohk was silent for a moment. Bek could hear him breathing, rough and agitated within his enveloping blackness. "You don't want to see me the way I really am, boy. You don't want to see me without this cloak."
Bek shook his head. "Maybe I do. What's wrong with seeing who you really are? If we're connected as you say, linked by our sharing of magic, then you shouldn't need to hide how you look."
"Hssst! What would you know of my needs? We've barely met, you and I. You think you're ready for what's hidden under these robes and within this cowl, but you aren't. You know nothing of what I am. There isn't another like me out there, a halfling-a shape-shifter and a human both. There's no mold for what I am. Maybe I don't even know what that is. Have you thought of that? We change at will, shape-shifters do, becoming what we need to be. What does that mean, when half of you is human? What happens when part of you is unchangeable and part as thin as air? Think on that before you ask me again to show you how I look!"
Then he stood up. "Enough of this. I've been thinking about our situation. The witch still tracks us, your sister. Even if she was thrown off the scent at the river, she will find us again. I want to know if she's done so yet and what help she's found. If she's close, I need to find a way to slow her down. I'll backtrack down the mountain to see if she's picked up our trail."
He paused. "You sleep while I'm gone, boy. Look for me in your dreams. Or in your nightmares, better yet. Maybe you'll see who I really am there."
He turned and was gone, fading into the night. Bek stared after him. He did not move again for a long time.
The Ilse Witch finished chewing on the vegetable root she had harvested for her dinner and stared out into the growing darkness. She would set out again soon, tracking the boy and the shape-shifter once more, following them into the mountains. They were clever and resourceful-or at least the shape-shifter was-and she could not afford to let them get too far ahead of her. She must press hard to keep them within reach. She might even catch up to them that night if they stopped to rest. They would have to, wouldn't they? The boy did not possess the stamina to go without rest, even if the shape-shifter did. He would have to sleep sometime. If she was quick enough, she would catch them unprepared.
She finished what she wanted of the root and threw the rest away. She would have them by now if they hadn't been working so hard to throw her off. That was clever, back by the river, setting up a false trail on one bank and swinging back across to the other. It had confused the caull, had sent it running up and down the wrong bank without purpose, had caused it to go half-mad with rage. The caull was skilled and possessed exceptional instincts, but it lacked insight. She was the one who spied the hook still caught in the upper branches of that hickory and sent the caull back across the river to search out the trail anew. By that time she had given back to her quarry the time they had lost to her during the night. Tonight she must make it up all over again. Easy enough though, if the boy slept.