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.
I was not sure whether it was just my imagination, but I could’ve sworn that I felt more energized. I was about to ask him what was next when I caught sight of his face. He’d frozen, his ears perked up, and his eyes fixed on the trees behind us.
Fear rushed through me that he might’ve just spotted hunters, or even worse, one of their mutants. But then, a few seconds later, three brown wolves burst from the trees.
Bastien immediately surged forward, positioning himself in front of me as he growled and bared his fangs.
“What are you doing here?” Bastien snarled.
“On patrol for conniving hunters roaming our lands,” one of the intruders shot back. “What are you doing with one of them?”
Oh, crap. They think I’m a hunter. My uniform certainly did not help.
“She is not one of them,” Bastien hissed, the hair on his back prickling.
“Who else would she be?” another wolf growled, stepping forward. He had a wide scar slashed across his right eye.