Pater,
Payment for merchandise was misdirected. Location known, but retrieval will be difficult. First shipment of merchandise will be sent in good faith.
—NS
CHAPTER 15
Firesday, Maius 11
“Why do I have to play with a human?” Sam asked again as Meg reached for the back door of A Little Bite.
She stepped away from the door and bent over, bracing her hands on her thighs so that she and Sam were eye to eye. The way he was growing, she wouldn’t need to do that much longer. Or maybe this growth spurt would plateau soon. None of the Others would talk about what the terra indigene looked like before taking on the forms that separated them into various gards and gave each group particular traits, but Meg had the impression that Sam’s growth wasn’t based on how quickly or slowly wolves or humans grew to maturity; it was based on how the terra indigene’s mysterious first form matured.
“We’re not playing with her, exactly,” Meg said. “We’re just going to have a snack and keep her company until Lieutenant Montgomery arrives.”
“Because he’s her sire?”
“Yes.” She touched his arm, a moment of contact. “She’s all alone, Sam, and she’s too young to have come all that way on a train by herself.”
Simon hadn’t told her much, but he’d said enough. Lizzy Montgomery might not have reached Lakeside if Nathan hadn’t been on that train and riding in the same car.
Sam looked at the ground between their feet before asking in a small voice, “Did something happen to her mom?”
Simon said there’s some dried blood on Lizzy’s toy bear, Meg thought. Sam is a Wolf pup. He’s bound to smell it.
“We don’t know what happened to Lizzy’s mom,” she said. “But Simon and Lieutenant Montgomery will find out.”
Now he reached out, a fingertip touch on her arm. “Are you going to have to bleed?”
He didn’t know about the cassandra sangue’s addiction to cutting, but he did know that she cut herself in order to see visions.
“No. Whatever happened has already happened. I . . . cut . . . when it’s important to see what might happen. Like when those men attacked the Courtyard and I knew before they arrived that you had to stay with Mr. Erebus because you’d be safe with him.”
“And you knew when that box of sugar lumps would make the ponies sick.”
“Yes.”
Apparently satisfied that nothing would happen to his pack, he eyed her head with unnerving interest.
“Can I feel your fur?” he asked.
“It’s not fur; it’s hair.”
“Uh-huh. Can I feel it?”
Bad enough she’d shocked herself with this new haircut, but every Wolf, Crow, Hawk, Owl, and Sanguinati she’d seen yesterday had stared at her. Jester Coyotegard had trotted over from the Pony Barn to get a look—and then gleefully raced back to report to the girls at the lake. Even the ponies, who were the Courtyard’s mail carriers and the Elementals’ steeds, had been more interested in lipping what was left of her hair than in eating the carrot chunks she had for their treat.
“Why?” she said. “It’s the same as it was before.”
“Uh-uuuh.”
Meg huffed out a breath. “Fine. You can feel it.”
“It’s soft and thick,” Sam said, running his hand over her hair. “Feels like Wolf.”
The soft, and deliberate, scuff of a shoe on the ground just behind her.
Meg snapped upright and whirled around.
“Simon.” She tried—and failed—to recall a training image that matched the look on his face. Baffled annoyance with a touch of hurt feelings?
“Wait for us inside, pup,” he said. “And don’t shift in front of the little human.”
Big gusty sigh. Then, having made his point about being put upon by entertaining a human, Sam opened the door and slipped inside A Little Bite.
“I should . . .” Meg pointed at the door.
“You growl at me because I want to feel your hair, but you don’t even grumble at him?”
Definitely some hurt feelings.
“He’s a puppy!” she protested.
“So?”
“Well . . . but . . .”
“I don’t growl at you when you want to pet my fur,” Simon said.
“But . . . that’s different!”
“How?”
Meg opened her mouth to explain exactly how it was different—and couldn’t think of anything to say. It was different, wasn’t it? He never objected when she ran her fingers through his fur. He was a Wolf. And fluffy. Less fluffy now that he’d shed his winter coat, but still!
Had she been intruding on what a magazine article called personal space without realizing it? He’d never objected, but he’d never actually given her permission to pet him.
She looked at him patiently waiting for an explanation and realized he didn’t see a difference between his tactile curiosity and hers. And right now she couldn’t figure out the difference either.
“Fine,” she muttered.
Not like Sam’s touch. Simon’s larger hand slowly moved over her head, those strong fingers finding the spot behind her ear where the muscles were tight. Pressing. Circling. Coaxing the muscles to yield and relax.
She swayed. Didn’t even realize he’d moved until her forehead rested against his chest.
“Oh,” she breathed. “No wonder you just lie there when we’re watching a movie.”
His breath ruffled her hair when he said laughingly, “Well, yeah.”
Too soon Simon lowered his hand and stepped back. “Sam’s getting impatient—and curious now that he’s gotten a look at the Lizzy. You should go in. The Lizzy wouldn’t tell Nathan what happened to her mother, but she might tell you.”
Meg nodded and walked into A Little Bite.
Not just Lizzy, the Lizzy.
Ruth was the one who had realized the terra indigene had a verbal hierarchy they used when talking about humans, a way of indicating the degree of interaction with an individual. Ruth had been the Ruthie when she’d been a customer at Howling Good Reads, but since she’d started working in the Courtyard, she was just Ruthie. Meg was Meg, the Meg, or our Meg depending on who was talking to her or about her.
And humans the Others didn’t like had “that” added to their names.
Simon came in behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, which made her realize she’d stopped moving while she pondered name distinctions.
As she walked up the hallway that led from the back door to the front of the shop, she pictured the customer area of A Little Bite with its tables and the counter where Tess worked. She pictured Sam sitting at one of the tables. She hadn’t seen Lizzy yet, so she recalled a training image of a young girl. Now she had some idea of what to expect.
Then she heard a young female voice say, “Bad dog!” She heard the whap of two things connecting, followed by a yelp. And then Skippy bolted down the hallway and almost knocked her over in his haste to escape.
“You should deal with that,” Simon said, giving her another nudge. He turned and went out the back door with Skippy.
Deal with what? How many things had she dealt with because Simon assumed that she could? And how many things had she dealt with because she didn’t want Simon to know that she couldn’t?
Something to think about another day.
Shaking her head, Meg walked into the coffee shop’s front room.
“I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches,” Tess said. “You’re the referee. You can tell Miss Lizzy over there that Boo Bear does not get his own sandwich. He’ll have to settle for a bite of hers.”
Since Tess’s hair was green and curling, Meg didn’t argue and she didn’t ask. But she wondered why no one had mentioned that a member of the Beargard was visiting the Courtyard.
Sam, who had been standing near the counter, grabbed Meg’s hand and whispered loudly, “She whacked Skippy. With a bear.”
The pup sounded impressed. Meg felt confused.
Unable to recall any training image that would match what Sam had said, she whispered, “Come on, let’s introduce ourselves.” Holding his hand, she walked up to the table where the girl watched them. “I’m Meg. This is Sam. Can we sit with you?”
The girl nodded. “I’m Lizzy. This is Boo Bear.”
Looking at Boo Bear, Meg understood why he wasn’t going to get his own sandwich. She just hoped Lizzy understood the difference between Boo Bear and a real bear.
Tess came over and set two plates on the table. Both held a grilled cheese sandwich cut in half and a sprig of red grapes. “I’m bringing yours,” she told Meg. Then she looked at Lizzy and Sam. “Sit down. Eat. Try not to cause a riot.”