“She stole my heart!” the Wolf shouted. “And look at me!”
“Are you now going to insist it was your heart you followed into the tavern?”
The contempt in the Shepherd’s voice was more than the Wolf could bear.
He looked at him and saw deceit, suddenly hating the Shepherd as much as he hated Ella Bandita.
The Wolf stared at his throat and lunged, jaws snapping.
But the Shepherd was swift, throwing himself aside in time to evade him.
The Wolf hit the ground hard, shock numbing his limbs.
His fur stood on end, his snarl echoed in the air only to fall silent when he spun around.
The Shepherd was back on his feet, rifle in hand.
One finger was on the trigger and one eye stared down the foresight, piercing through the madness.
His rage deserted the Wolf.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no…” he moaned. “Please forgive me. I am so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” the Shepherd said.
“I don’t know what came over me. I would never hurt you.”
“You already have and I want you to leave.”
The thought of being alone again raised a swell of panic inside the Wolf.
He cowered, but the Shepherd kept his rifle aimed on him.
For the first time since the Wolf met him, the Shepherd looked his age, timelessness falling off him like a moth-eaten cloak.
“I’m not joking,” he said. “Get away from me or I’ll kill you.”
The Wolf ran.
He fled across the fields, going deep into the woods so he wouldn’t be seen.
But he still watched the Shepherd from the trees.
His head rested on his bent knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He rocked back and forth, his shoulders shaking as only a man weeping could do.
His posture didn’t change for hours.
The Wolf whimpered through the vigil, but was strangely reassured when the Shepherd didn’t leave.
As night fell, the throbbing grew worse in his hollow.
The Wolf resisted the howl building inside him, for he dared not disturb the Shepherd.
Instead, he ran.
But there was no escape from his aloneness.
The night was interminable, the worst he endured in three years and the Wolf despaired the darkness would ever end.
When the horizon streaked with rose, he caught the aroma of smoke.
The Wolf knew the Shepherd must be up, preparing his meals for morning and afternoon, enough to sustain him for a long journey.
Without thinking, the Wolf followed the scent of frying venison, what was left of the deer they killed a couple of weeks ago.
The Shepherd turned when the snap of a branch gave him away.
Shame flooded through the Wolf at his appearance.
He’d never seen the Shepherd so haggard. The lines on his face had deepened overnight and his eyelids were swollen.
“What are you doing here?”
“Please let me come back,” the Wolf begged. “I swear it will never happen again.”
“I can’t. Not after an attack like that.”
“Ella Bandita has destroyed many lives. Does she have to ruin our friendship as well?”
The Wolf knew that was the worst thing he could have said when the Shepherd stared hard at him, his brows drawn together.
“All this was your doing,” he said. “If you refuse to admit that, you have nothing left to say to me.”
“I’m sorry! Surely you must know that.”
“Of course I do. And I’ve already forgiven you for yesterday.”
“Then let me come back,” the Wolf begged. “You know I can’t bear to be alone.”
The Shepherd sighed and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the Wolf saw no hostility in his regard, only sadness. Somehow, that made him feel worse.
“You need to make peace with that fear,” the Shepherd finally spoke. “How can you if you stay with me? You have so much to learn.”
“Like what?” the Wolf muttered.
“Ironically enough, the same lesson Ella Bandita taught me. For all your talk about following your heart, have you ever listened to it?”
His head jerked up and the Wolf was unable to stop himself from baring his teeth.
His fury was sudden, the growl stirring in his belly before he could stop it. He managed to restrain himself enough to grow quiet.
But the Shepherd stared at him and slowly raised his brows.
“Or,” he said. “You could just learn how to be a wolf. You certainly have that nature and you may be this animal for the rest of your life.”
“What do you expect?” the Wolf snapped. “What you just asked of me is impossible.”
“That’s not true,” the Shepherd replied. “Because your heart is always a part of you.”
The Wolf was reminded of the last dream he had about his grandfather and started to cry. He couldn’t feel the tears streaming down his face through the fur, which made him sob even harder.
The Shepherd stroked his back and scratched behind his ears, murmuring soft words of comfort. But the kindness only added to his sorrow.
“I don’t think I can do this,” the Wolf wept. “I’m terrified, Shepherd.”
“I know you are. Just listen to your heart and you’ll never be afraid again.”
