Beheld (Kendra Chronicles #4)

The wolf seemed to smile or maybe snarl, crinkling his nose and baring his teeth. He exhaled, breath turning to a cloud of smoke. What did he want from me?

“Of course you do. You are a lovely girl, a helpful girl. No one appreciates you, though.”

That was true. The wolf came still closer. I cringed. Did he mean to bite me now? But no. The wolf sidled up against me, head level with my hand. My fingers shook. Almost without thinking, I sank them into the wolf’s woolly fur. It was so warm, and he nuzzled my arm like a dog. I had never had a pet. Our farm had dogs to watch the animals or to warn us of intruders, human or not. But they were not pets, not my pets. Last year, my brother, Tom, had been given a puppy, a brindle bulldog that followed him around and slept at the foot of his bed at night. I tried to play with him sometimes, but he only liked Tom.

I scrunched the wolf’s fur between my fingers.

“Where are you off to, little girl?” the wolf asked.

I was not a little girl, but this was a question with an easy answer. “To my friend Betty’s. My cousin is there. They are . . . expecting me.”

I pushed back the thought that they did not care whether or not I came.

“Off to play with witchcraft?” the wolf asked.

“What?” I must have misheard him. “No. We . . . talk, play games.”

“What a shame.” The wolf flipped his head upon my fingers, enjoying the petting. “I thought we could spend more time together.”

And suddenly I wanted to, wanted to stay with the wolf or go where he was going. But that would be impossible, for I was not a wolf.

Still, I said, “Walk with me then.”

Now that I knew—or, at least, thought—the wolf would not eat me, I grew bold.

“Very well.” The wolf started in the direction I had planned to go. I trudged beside him, feeling his warmth at my side. “Why are you walking all alone through the woods?”

“I was supposed to go with Mary—my cousin. But she left without me.” She did not care.

“The woods are dangerous,” the wolf said. “Someone should have walked with you. There are wolves in the woods.”

My nose was cold, and I sniffled a bit. Even though it was early, the overhanging trees and the clouds made the day dark.

The wolf continued. “No one pays you any mind, but you are superior to them all.”

I started a bit at this, for I had always suspected as much. Yet how would the wolf know?

But admitting it would be sinful vanity. “Of course I am not superior.”

“You are.” The wolf’s words left his mouth in a puff of smoke. “Smarter. Quicker on your feet.”

It was true. I always won at games like hunt the slipper or charades, beating even older girls like Mary. My handwriting was much finer than theirs, and when I read, I had a clear, strong voice and did not hesitate at difficult words. Yet none of those skills were prized. Games were a waste of time at best, of the devil at worst. And Mother condemned my pride in my penmanship as a vanity. I knew that was because her own was not nearly as fine.

I only wanted to be good. No. I wanted to be good and have everyone know I was good.

“I do not know about that,” I said.

“You are too modest,” the wolf said. “You are the smartest and best girl. The others are simply jealous. That is why they left without you.”

Once again, the wolf confirmed my own thoughts, or my deepest fears. I shivered.

“How can I make them not to be jealous?” It seemed wrong to admit that I wanted them to envy me.

The wolf did not answer for a moment, winding his body behind mine, warming me. Finally, he said, “I suppose you must look for opportunities.”

“Opportunities?” I pulled Elizabeth’s too-small cape around me. My boots squeezed my toes. They were too small as well. No one had thought to check, with two babies to care for.

“To impress them with something they value.”

Something they value. “Like what?”

We had reached a clearing, and Reverent Parris’s house lay ahead. I knew I must part company with the wolf, yet I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The wolf’s company was easy, easier than the company of my fellow humans.

Easy.

I wondered what it would be like to snuggle up against him and sleep at night like a cub.

“You will find the opportunity,” the wolf said. “See what they care about, and use it.”

“Will I see you again?”

He backed away, looking at me with his white eyes. The shadows of trees trembled against the ground like hands, grabbing.

“I am certain,” he said.

I watched until he was gone, then turned and ran to Reverend Parris’s house. When I reached the door, I heard a howl in the distance.

Had that happened? I shook my head and tried the doorknob.

But they were not inside. I searched around until I found them in a clearing behind a stand of trees, where Tituba had built a little fire. Mary, seeing me, acted happy. “Ann, you are here. God preserve you.”

Alex Flinn's books