Free The Silent Strength of Stones by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Matt Stawicki

something monumental had just happened. It occurred to me that it was odd I could understand a wolf,
    “Evan, you can’t—you can’t—what are you going to—” She was crying.
    “Point is,” he said, “now you can’t.” He snuffed, then said, “Relax, Nick. Relax.”
    My muscles melted like wax, and my eyelids fell shut.
    “Not that much,” said the wolf. “Be comfortable.”
    I felt totally disabled, but comfortable. Evan slipped off me, stood over me, sniffing. “Are you all right?” he asked after a moment.
    “I don’t know.” My voice came out high and drifty.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I don’t know,” I said.
    “Be well,” he said.
    I took some deep breaths and felt health running through me like alcohol. I sat up. “What—” I said.
    “You wanted a dog,” said the wolf. “Now you’re my boy.”
    “But—”
    “I’ll give you a long leash. Be well. Be independent. Do whatever you need to. Take good care of yourself.”
    “What?” I said. “What?”
    He huffed a laugh. “See you later,” he said, and trotted off into the darkness.
    I rubbed my elbow where I had hit it. It didn’t hurt anymore. “What—” I said.
    Willow rubbed her eyes, climbed to her feet, and brushed off her skirt. “Come on, Nick.” Her voice sounded shaky. She held a hand out to me.
    “What just happened?”
    She gripped my hand and didn’t say anything. Her hand was cold again. She pulled me to my feet even though I wasn’t sure I was ready to stand up.
    “Willow ...”
    “He fetched you,” she said, her voice low and flat. “He owns you. You belong to him now.”
    I shivered. “But that’s not—”
    “He did it so I wouldn’t. You’re fetched, Nick. Let’s go back to the dance.”
    “But—wait a second—how can a—how can I—?”
    “You’ll have to ask him.”
    I took a few more deep breaths, feeling better with each one, even though I was scared. “That’s not fair,” I said. “He’s gone. How can a wolf own a human being, anyway?” What would a wolf want with a human being? What did Evan want with me? “Don’t I get to say anything about this?”
    She threaded her fingers through mine. “Teach me to dance,” she said, tugging me back toward Parsley’s Hall and light and music. My fear stayed with me, but I knew I wasn’t going to get any more answers from Willow, so I dropped the subject.
    We danced in the road to music coming out the door until her black slippers turned dust-gray and her steps came without effort. There was never another moment when I felt our hearts beating like two halves of one heart, but presently our steps matched and meshed and it was like she could read my mind, anticipating our next move. Holding her felt comfortable and right.
    “You’re ready to go inside,” I said, when she knew the basics of the waltz; the two-step, and the schottische.
    “Mm.” She stepped back and looked down at herself. “Not quite.” She held up her hands and caught orange light from the streetlights, then poured it down on her dress and legs and shoes. The light washed the dust away. “You want?” she asked.
    My throat felt tight. Every time she touched something I thought I knew, she turned it into something unexpected. How was I supposed to think about this? Light liked Lauren. Light liked me. Maybe it liked Willow too. I managed to say yes. She walked around me, aiming a wash of light at me. It tickled like a soft breeze. When she was done, my clothes were cleaner than they had been when I left the store. I sniffed my shoulder. No sweat smell at all, just something like the edge of lightning, ozone and electric. Well, after everything else that had happened, why not?
    “Thanks,” I said. “You lost your flowers.”
    “Those were for you, anyway,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair, then shaking her head till her hair settled in soft curls.
    “What?”
    “People usually dress for a date, don’t they?”
    “Unless they’re idiots,” I