a better name for him?”
Cody smiled a little. “No. No, I can’t.” He looked toward the hearth; the wolf was watching them silently. “Hello, Phantom.”
Phantom pricked up his ears. His tail thumped once.
Strangely unsurprised, Cody noted, “He knows his name.”
“Of course.” Brooke poured out two cups of coffee, handing one to Cody and taking the other herself as she sat down across the table from him. “I’ve seen him before, Cody.”
“Really?” Cody sipped his coffee. “When?”
“Well…several times. In the fall was the last time. But I’ve seen him at a distance for three or four years. Up on the ridge usually. He runs with a small pack, and he and another wolf—a black one—seem to be the leaders. I’ll bet the black one’s his mate.”
“Wonder how he broke his leg,” Cody mused idly.
Brooke shook her head. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Cody turned his gaze to Brooke. Oddly fanciful, he found himself telling Phantom’s story as if he knew it well. “There was no power struggle within the pack; Phantom’s too strong for that. And he’s too canny to have fallen into a trap set by hunters. He must have fallen or been kicked while they were hunting. With a broken leg he couldn’t hunt and he couldn’t lead the pack. So his mate had a choice. She could stay with Phantom and hunt alone for both of them, losing leadership of the pack, or else she could leave him where his chances of survival were good, and come back for him when the leg had time to heal.”
Taking up the thread of the story, Brooke went on. “She left him here, where there was no scent of hunters. Maybe she even knew that he could reach out to me for help. There was shelter here, and humans who’d left the pack unmolested in the past, so she believed this would be the best place to leave him. What shall we name her?” Brooke demanded suddenly.
Cody thought. “Psyche,” he decided firmly.
Brooke’s lips twitched. “Goes well with Phantom,” she murmured. “And so, Psyche left Phantom here; we’ll have to wait and see if she comes back for him.”
“D’you think she will?”
“Yes.”
“Is Phantom telling you that, or are you guessing?”
“Neither. I know. And Phantom isn’t telling me anything. He’s just lying there watching us and he’s warm.”
“I’m glad he’s warm. I wish I could say the same for my ankle.”
“It’ll take the swelling down.”
“Actually it feels pretty good.”
“Terrific. The last thing I need is to be snowbound with two cripples.”
“Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?”
“My favorite sport.”
Casually Cody said, “Tell me about your father.”
Brooke stiffened for a moment, then sent him a look that was a combination of wry amusement and guardedness. “You don’t sound a warning shot, do you? You just fire away.”
“I get results that way.”
She was silent for a moment. “You’re knocking at the walls, Cody,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“You promised.”
“I promised that I wouldn’t move too fast and that I wouldn’t batter at the walls. I didn’t promise not to knock.” His warm golden eyes were searching. “First dragon, Brooke. I have to start somewhere.”
She shook her head suddenly. “No dragon.” Her eyes were fixed unseeingly on Phantom. “Not exactly. I often wonder if my life would’ve been different if he’d lived longer. But he died when I was six.”
“Tell me about him,” Cody prompted softly.
“How?” She laughed shortly. “What does a six-year-old notice about someone she loves? That he was tall and strong and used to throw me up on his shoulder? That he had eyes the color of new grass and a voice I could listen to for hours?” Her voice dropped suddenly, became painful and bitter. “That he loved me so much it made my mother hate me?”
Cody saw the first dragon looming between them, not the father but given life by the father. And he wasn’t quite sure how to slay a
Cody smiled a little. “No. No, I can’t.” He looked toward the hearth; the wolf was watching them silently. “Hello, Phantom.”
Phantom pricked up his ears. His tail thumped once.
Strangely unsurprised, Cody noted, “He knows his name.”
“Of course.” Brooke poured out two cups of coffee, handing one to Cody and taking the other herself as she sat down across the table from him. “I’ve seen him before, Cody.”
“Really?” Cody sipped his coffee. “When?”
“Well…several times. In the fall was the last time. But I’ve seen him at a distance for three or four years. Up on the ridge usually. He runs with a small pack, and he and another wolf—a black one—seem to be the leaders. I’ll bet the black one’s his mate.”
“Wonder how he broke his leg,” Cody mused idly.
Brooke shook her head. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Cody turned his gaze to Brooke. Oddly fanciful, he found himself telling Phantom’s story as if he knew it well. “There was no power struggle within the pack; Phantom’s too strong for that. And he’s too canny to have fallen into a trap set by hunters. He must have fallen or been kicked while they were hunting. With a broken leg he couldn’t hunt and he couldn’t lead the pack. So his mate had a choice. She could stay with Phantom and hunt alone for both of them, losing leadership of the pack, or else she could leave him where his chances of survival were good, and come back for him when the leg had time to heal.”
Taking up the thread of the story, Brooke went on. “She left him here, where there was no scent of hunters. Maybe she even knew that he could reach out to me for help. There was shelter here, and humans who’d left the pack unmolested in the past, so she believed this would be the best place to leave him. What shall we name her?” Brooke demanded suddenly.
Cody thought. “Psyche,” he decided firmly.
Brooke’s lips twitched. “Goes well with Phantom,” she murmured. “And so, Psyche left Phantom here; we’ll have to wait and see if she comes back for him.”
“D’you think she will?”
“Yes.”
“Is Phantom telling you that, or are you guessing?”
“Neither. I know. And Phantom isn’t telling me anything. He’s just lying there watching us and he’s warm.”
“I’m glad he’s warm. I wish I could say the same for my ankle.”
“It’ll take the swelling down.”
“Actually it feels pretty good.”
“Terrific. The last thing I need is to be snowbound with two cripples.”
“Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?”
“My favorite sport.”
Casually Cody said, “Tell me about your father.”
Brooke stiffened for a moment, then sent him a look that was a combination of wry amusement and guardedness. “You don’t sound a warning shot, do you? You just fire away.”
“I get results that way.”
She was silent for a moment. “You’re knocking at the walls, Cody,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“You promised.”
“I promised that I wouldn’t move too fast and that I wouldn’t batter at the walls. I didn’t promise not to knock.” His warm golden eyes were searching. “First dragon, Brooke. I have to start somewhere.”
She shook her head suddenly. “No dragon.” Her eyes were fixed unseeingly on Phantom. “Not exactly. I often wonder if my life would’ve been different if he’d lived longer. But he died when I was six.”
“Tell me about him,” Cody prompted softly.
“How?” She laughed shortly. “What does a six-year-old notice about someone she loves? That he was tall and strong and used to throw me up on his shoulder? That he had eyes the color of new grass and a voice I could listen to for hours?” Her voice dropped suddenly, became painful and bitter. “That he loved me so much it made my mother hate me?”
Cody saw the first dragon looming between them, not the father but given life by the father. And he wasn’t quite sure how to slay a
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