Our second night on the road home, Foxglove came to our fire and told Burrich she thought she had seen a wolf, several times that day. Burrich shrugged indifferently and assured her it was probably just curious, and was no threat to us. After she left, Burrich turned to me and said, “That’s going to happen once too often.”
“What?”
“A wolf, seen in your vicinity. Fitz, have a care. There were rumors, back when you killed those Forged ones. There were tracks all about, and the marks on those men were never made by any blade. Someone told me they saw a wolf prowling Neatbay the night of the battle. I even heard a wild tale about a wolf who changed into a man when the battle was over. There were tracks in the mud outside the Queen’s very tent from that night; as well for you that everyone was so tired and in so much of a hurry to dispose of the dead. There were a few there that did not die at a man’s hand.”
A few? Fa!
Burrich’s face contorted in anger. “That will cease. Now.”
You are strong, Heart of the Pack, but
The thought was broken and I heard a sudden yelp of surprise from off in the brush. Several of the horses startled and looked in that direction. I myself was staring at Burrich. He had repelled at Nighteyes, fiercely and from a distance.
Luckily for you, from a distance; for the strength of that … I began to warn Nighteyes.
Burrich’s gaze swung to me. “I said, that will cease! Now!” He looked aside from me in disgust. “I’d rather you rode with your hand in your pants than that you did that constantly in my presence. It offends me.”