along at a distance, clearly shadowing them. It reassured her to know they weren’t actually alone. How crazy was that? Werewolves creeped her out. But she knew what had happened to Tami when she’d been captured and sold to bad men, and she wasn’t sure that Stag would be able to fight off any men who tried to kidnap her by himself. Then again, he could turn into a wolf and shred them with his teeth. Sherry shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold.
“Stag,” she shouted. “I’m getting cold. I want to go back.”
He was wearing only an unlined leather jacket. She knew wolves didn’t feel the cold as much as humans did, but it was only twenty freaking degrees. Couldn’t he at least button the coat all the way closed? He called over his shoulder. “There’s a cabin up ahead we can stop at to get warmed up.”
He nudged his horse into a canter, and hers followed suit. Sherry didn’t know how long it was before they got to the little house, but it felt like hours. Being outside town gave her a strangely vulnerable feeling, like driving a hundred miles an hour on a motorcycle without a helmet. The house, when she finally saw it, was a welcome sight. It was well hidden by folds in the land. She noticed that it was painted gray and had big black shutters, but what her eyes fixed on was the smoke coming from the chimney. That meant a fire to warm up at. Stag led the way around the back, to a stable almost as big as the house. When she dismounted she almost fell. Her legs refused to support her weight, but Stag caught her.
“Are you alright?” he demanded anxiously. “Is it the broken bones?”
“I don’t think so,” she groaned. “Just not used to riding.”
He picked her up like a baby. “I’ll get you settled inside and then come back to take care of the horses.”
The house was toasty warm inside. It was just one room, with a kitchen and eating area on one end, and a bed and chest of drawers on the other, with a big stone fireplace on the opposite wall. Stag carried her to the bed and set her down carefully. “I’ll be right back.”
Sherry took her hat off and looked around. It wasn’t a large room, but it was clean and uncluttered. The wood floor wasn’t polished, but the planks were smooth, covered with a few rugs. There was a square table with a couple chairs around it under one of the small windows. The bed was obviously homemade, a little smaller than her queen-sized bed at home. A simple quilt made of fabric squares in cheerfully clashing purples, oranges and reds covered it. Opposite the bed was the fireplace with a small fire snapping brightly. The scent of burning wood filled the room. Even here, ten feet away, she could feel the warmth of the flames. On top of the beat up chest of drawers beside the bed was a canvas sack that looked a lot like the bag she kept her knitting in, and on the floor was a duffel bag. She saw no knickknacks or personal items in the room.
Who lived here and where were they? Sherry hoped they wouldn’t mind that she and Stag were stopping here to warm up.
Stag came in a few minutes later and took his jacket off to hang on a peg by the door. He went to the fireplace to lay another log on the fire before moving the chairs by the window over in front of the fire. His eyes fixed on her with a strange intensity as he came over to squat at her feet.
“You can take your coat and boots off,” he said. “Here, I’ll help you with your boots.”
Sherry watched Stag set her boots beside the door and arrange them so they were at just the perfect angle to the door, and then hang her coat up for her. Why was he being so careful about it? He’d been acting strange all day.
“The fire is warm,” he said. “Come sit and relax. Should I get you a blanket to wrap up in?”
She stood up and walked over to the chair he indicated. Without her cane, she walked carefully, but it was only six or seven feet, an easy walk even for a saddle-sore woman whose legs had been
“Stag,” she shouted. “I’m getting cold. I want to go back.”
He was wearing only an unlined leather jacket. She knew wolves didn’t feel the cold as much as humans did, but it was only twenty freaking degrees. Couldn’t he at least button the coat all the way closed? He called over his shoulder. “There’s a cabin up ahead we can stop at to get warmed up.”
He nudged his horse into a canter, and hers followed suit. Sherry didn’t know how long it was before they got to the little house, but it felt like hours. Being outside town gave her a strangely vulnerable feeling, like driving a hundred miles an hour on a motorcycle without a helmet. The house, when she finally saw it, was a welcome sight. It was well hidden by folds in the land. She noticed that it was painted gray and had big black shutters, but what her eyes fixed on was the smoke coming from the chimney. That meant a fire to warm up at. Stag led the way around the back, to a stable almost as big as the house. When she dismounted she almost fell. Her legs refused to support her weight, but Stag caught her.
“Are you alright?” he demanded anxiously. “Is it the broken bones?”
“I don’t think so,” she groaned. “Just not used to riding.”
He picked her up like a baby. “I’ll get you settled inside and then come back to take care of the horses.”
The house was toasty warm inside. It was just one room, with a kitchen and eating area on one end, and a bed and chest of drawers on the other, with a big stone fireplace on the opposite wall. Stag carried her to the bed and set her down carefully. “I’ll be right back.”
Sherry took her hat off and looked around. It wasn’t a large room, but it was clean and uncluttered. The wood floor wasn’t polished, but the planks were smooth, covered with a few rugs. There was a square table with a couple chairs around it under one of the small windows. The bed was obviously homemade, a little smaller than her queen-sized bed at home. A simple quilt made of fabric squares in cheerfully clashing purples, oranges and reds covered it. Opposite the bed was the fireplace with a small fire snapping brightly. The scent of burning wood filled the room. Even here, ten feet away, she could feel the warmth of the flames. On top of the beat up chest of drawers beside the bed was a canvas sack that looked a lot like the bag she kept her knitting in, and on the floor was a duffel bag. She saw no knickknacks or personal items in the room.
Who lived here and where were they? Sherry hoped they wouldn’t mind that she and Stag were stopping here to warm up.
Stag came in a few minutes later and took his jacket off to hang on a peg by the door. He went to the fireplace to lay another log on the fire before moving the chairs by the window over in front of the fire. His eyes fixed on her with a strange intensity as he came over to squat at her feet.
“You can take your coat and boots off,” he said. “Here, I’ll help you with your boots.”
Sherry watched Stag set her boots beside the door and arrange them so they were at just the perfect angle to the door, and then hang her coat up for her. Why was he being so careful about it? He’d been acting strange all day.
“The fire is warm,” he said. “Come sit and relax. Should I get you a blanket to wrap up in?”
She stood up and walked over to the chair he indicated. Without her cane, she walked carefully, but it was only six or seven feet, an easy walk even for a saddle-sore woman whose legs had been
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