The world was strange and getting stranger.
She found the oil in time to refill the lantern, then almost couldn’t find Captain Reiter out in the woods. He was lying where and how she left him; legs bent, one arm by his side, the other thrown wide. She thought about taking his watch, but that seemed unnecessarily rude when she’d been left her stolen telescope. His chest rose and fell. She prodded him with her foot. He didn’t wake. I woke and they were gone wasn’t much of an excuse. She knew the feel of silver, so she pulled the shot from his ammo pouch and sent it down into the ground.
Still not enough.
Standing so close she could slide her toes under the edge of his thigh, she reached into herself the way they’d taught her and thought of blowing out a thousand candles burning in a circle around them.
Trees shattered.
Dirt under his paws. Hackles up. Heart pounding. Lips drawn back off his teeth. His nose said power. Familiar power. Tomas ran toward it.
Past a narrow band of woods, he found Mirian standing in a circle of downed trees, everything from oaks to underbrush flattened to the ground, the man he’d helped her escape from once before, lying at her feet.
And it all came back. The market, the garrison, the wagon, trapped in his head by the drugs, held to two legs by silver, Mirian waking him…
He staggered a bit as he changed. Would have stayed on four legs except he needed his voice. “What did you do?”
Her fingers went white around the handle of the lantern and he thought for a moment she might drop it. “I blew out a candle.”
“A candle?”
“Maybe a few.” Stepping over the captain’s body, she picked her way carefully toward him, wincing as she stepped on shards of branches. As she reached him, he ducked his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder and took a deep breath. Her hand felt like ice against his chest as she pushed him away. “The food, money, and bedrolls go with us. Everything else we leave.”
He tipped his head to the side, caught sight of the Imperial on the ground, and, reminded, growled.
Mirian grabbed his arm before he could change. “Leave the captain alone. He released me.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a difference between killing and murdering. Come on.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn’t decide if that was because of the drugs or her scent or because it didn’t make any sense. He followed her anyway. When she stumbled as she stepped out into the clearing, he got his arm around her waist before she fell. “Are you hurt?”
“Tired.” As she sagged back against him, he twisted a little to keep his reaction from rubbing against the wool of her skirt. “The horse is gone.”
Tomas inhaled and coughed. “Smells like you scared the crap out of him.”
Mirian half giggled, the noise not quite escaping although he felt her body shake. Stepping out of his hold, she hurried toward the embers of a small fire, her movements a combination of fragile and frantic he didn’t much like. She looked as though she might break herself into pieces at any moment. “We have to hurry. If the horse has bolted along the road, the Imperials will look for where he came from.” She threw a wool blanket to the ground and began tossing things onto it. “There’s not much food, but we’ll take what there is. Did you eat the pork I left in the wagon?”
His stomach growled and his nose twitched and the pork smelled good enough that he went over the sleeping body of another Imperial without pausing on his way into the wagon. Mirian’s scent was on the meat, so he had to assume she’d eaten. He barely stopped himself from swallowing it whole. By the time he jumped back to the ground, she had the bedroll tied and hanging from her shoulder. He could smell the clothes he’d been wearing, biscuits and dried meat and…
“Stop it.” She pushed his head away. “The captain said we’re close to the old Imperial border.”
Tomas rose up on two legs. “And you trust him?”
“Yes. No. But he wasn’t lying.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Probably not. We don’t need all six…” She stared at the canteens hanging from her hand and dropped four. “…I don’t know why I filled them all. Why would I…No, never mind.”
“Mirian?”
“We need to head east. There’s no point in taking the lantern, they could track the light. You’ll have to get us across the border and find us somewhere safe. As soon as you can.”
If they were that close to the old Imperial border, the enemy would know the ground. “We should keep moving.”
“We should.” Her eyes were enormous, her cheeks pale. Nearly overwhelmed by her scent, he hadn’t really looked at her face. Her lips trembled slightly as she spoke. “But we won’t be able to. One thing I learned as a banker’s daughter; bills always come due.”
Most of Mirian’s weight hung off his back by the time he found the overhang. With one side open to the elements, it wasn’t a proper cave, but it was deep enough that it was dry in spite of the rain. Slabs of rock thrown up by artillery practice made it nearly impossible to see from any distance. The surrounding scars from repeated shelling made it obvious why no animal had chosen to den here. He’d have preferred to be farther from the border, but he no longer had a choice.
He felt her slip, changed as she fell, and went down with her, managing to keep her head from hitting the rock—although collapsing beside her seemed like a better idea. “You still with me?”
Her fingers moved against his arm.
“All right. We’re almost there. I’ll just carry you for the last bit, okay?”
Except she wasn’t small or delicate like the beauties Harry and the other men of the 1st had exclaimed over and the rain had slicked his skin and weighted down her clothes. He settled for half carrying, half dragging her in under the overhang, then leaving her just out of the rain while he opened the bedrolls and spread the blankets in the back. They were thick enough wool that the parts folded to the inside were still dry. He ate two of the biscuits that spilled out before he realized he’d done it.
He changed on the way back. It was easier to move on four legs, although his shoulders scraped the roof, and when he figured he was far enough away from both Mirian and the blankets he tried to shake some of the water out of his fur without knocking himself over.
When he got back to Mirian, her teeth were chattering.
“I thought you could keep yourself warm!”
She didn’t answer. Apparently, that was one of the bills coming due.
“Think of her like she’s Harry,” he muttered, breathing shallowly through his mouth as he unbuttoned her jacket. He set the telescope aside, a little surprised she was still carrying it. The tiny pearl buttons on the shirtwaist were rounded, so they slipped free with no trouble. The tie inside confused him for a moment before he realized it was part of the extra fabric holding her breasts in place. Once he worked that out, he could slide the jacket and shirtwaist off together. The skirt and the petticoat were held on by a buckle, a button, and a tie and were easy to remove. He paused, one hand resting on the curve of her waist and tried to decide the best way to hold her. He could think of her like she was Harry all he wanted, but his nose and his body knew better.
He scraped his knees carrying her back to the blankets—nothing another change couldn’t heal—and narrowly missed cracking his head when he bent forward to lay her down. Breathing heavily, resting his forehead against hers, he wrapped her in the blankets and changed as he collapsed beside her far enough away he wouldn’t get the blankets damp.
She whimpered, freed a hand, and grabbed a handful of fur. Her grip was barely strong enough to hold on, but when she tugged him toward her, he went. Later, he told himself, jaws cracking as he yawned, when she was able to keep herself warm again, he’d go hunting for something to…