thirsty from the herbs she had given him to ease the pain.
Jaylor, the magician, slept beside Puppy, next to the central hearth.
He could get to his own water when he awoke.
“Mrroww!” complained Mica. Jaylor slept in her place. Her back arched as she climbed onto his wide chest and settled in for a bath. Her multicolored fur already shone with cleanliness. Brevelan knew this was just a cat’s way of testing a new sleeping place.
Cats had a way of probing a person’s integrity. Mica seemed to trust this stranger. Brevelan wondered if she should. She didn’t trust easily. If this man were indeed sent by her home village, she’d have to run again. But where? He stirred and mumbled something in his sleep. Mica braced herself against the movement then settled down as his big hand rubbed her soft fur.
Such strong hands. Strong enough to fix a wolf’s dislocated shoulder as well as throw some nasty magic. His whole body looked as big and strong as his hands. Magicians had to be strong or they didn’t last long at that University of theirs.
He wasn’t bad looking either. Straight, clean lines to his nose and eyes. Beneath his untrimmed beard, his cheeks looked a little drawn, as if he hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly. And that filthy, bedraggled hair and beard. Dusty brown now, but once washed and combed she was sure it would lighten up to a full head of auburn curls.
Some forgotten need in her wanted to smooth those unruly curls off his brow, feel the soft texture of his hair, ease some of the worry lines around his eyes.
“Forget it, Brevelan,” she admonished herself. “He’s a man. You won’t get any tenderness or understanding out of the likes of him. So why try giving any?”
Would he never wake up? It was full dark, there was a thick soup of yampion root and beans ready for the eating. She was sure he’d need feeding when he finally did wake. Then she could ask him to go. Or sleep outside. Her own sleep would be much easier with him away from her bed. A bed that was more than wide enough for two.
“Well, Wolf, your mistress says there is a bathing pool upstream from here.” Jaylor found himself addressing the pet in the same tone Brevelan used. He wondered if the girl had been alone so long she spoke to the animals just to hear her own voice.
The wolf turned his head to the right and whined. Jaylor followed his lead. Sure enough, they paced along a well-worn path beside the chuckling creek. Just beyond a slight curve in the path a fallen log and some well-placed stones created a small dam. Behind the blockage, the creek widened and deepened into a clear pool.
Jaylor tested the water with his hand. Still cool, but the frigid snow melt was warmed by an underground hot spring. He could shed his worn and dusty clothes for a real bath.
The wolf was not so cautious. He sprang from a low crouch directly into the center of the pool. For a moment his golden fur was lost in the splash of arching waves. Shimmering crystal drops caught the sunlight in a wonderful dance then fell back into their bed. The wolf opened his mouth in a grin. He whined again in a plea for company.
“I’m coming, Puppy,” Jaylor answered the animal’s plea. Right now the wolf appeared immature enough to deserve the name. Most of the time he was just “Wolf.”
Quickly, Jaylor shed his tunic and trews, boots and loincloth. He dabbed his big toe in the cool water. He withdrew the cold toe then sank his entire foot into the pool.
Wolf whined again and paddled toward him. When he was knee-deep in the water he stopped and cocked his head toward Jaylor in question. Without waiting for an answer the wolf shook his fur clear of the drops that clung to the long guard hairs.
Jaylor couldn’t retreat fast enough. Cold water sprayed over his naked body. Lumbird bumps rose on his arms and legs and the cold penetrated to his bones. Wolf looked as if he were ready to shake again. “At this rate, I might as well dive in.”
The Big Rich: The Rise, Fall of the Greatest Texas Oil Fortunes