and their goods, and making sure his face was remembered. To accomplish this, it was best to carry something well-preserved that could be sold at churches or inns and used as an excuse for conversation, like dried fruit or meat.
Lawrence watched Zheren, feeling a certain nostalgia for the time before he’d acquired his wagon.
“Are we not going with him?” Holo asked as Zheren’s form disappeared into the distance. Having checked to see that there was no one around to see her, she was grooming her tail fur.
Possibly because she had to cover her ears with the cloak, she did not bother combing her fall of chestnut hair, merely tying it back with a length of hempen rope. Lawrence felt that she could at least comb it, but he had no comb to offer. He resolved to acquire a comb and hat when they arrived in Pazzio.
“It rained all day yesterday, so he’ll make better time on foot than we can on the wagon. There’s no need for him to slow down on our account.”
“True, merchants are always on about time.”
“Time is money.”
“Ho-ho! An interesting saying. Time is money, is it?”
“As long as we have time, we can make money.”
“’Tis true. Though it’s not how I think,” said Holo, casting a glance to her tail.
Her magnificent tail was long enough to hang past the back of her knees. The abundant fur would probably fetch a good price if shorn and sold.
“I imagine the farmers you watched over for so many centuries were mindful of time.”
As soon as Lawrence said it, he realized he probably shouldn’t have. Holo glanced at him as if to say “I’ll let you have that one,” smiling impishly.
“Hmph. At what have you been looking? The farmers care nary a whit for time. It’s the air they’re mindful of.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“They wake in the dawn air, work the farm in the morning air, pull the weeds in the afternoon air, twist rope in the rainy air. They worry over their crops in the windy air, watch them grow in the summer air, celebrate the harvest in the autumn air, and in the winter air they wait for spring. They think not of time—like me, they note only the air.”
Lawrence couldn’t say that he understood all of what Holo said, but there were parts he followed. He nodded, impressed, which seemed to satisfy Holo; she puffed up her chest and sniffed proudly.
The self-proclaimed Wisewolf evidently didn’t feel the slightest need for humility.
Just then, a person who seemed to be another traveling merchant came across the road.
Although Holo’s ears were hidden by the cloak, her tail was in plain view.
The passerby stared at Holo’s tail, although he didn’t speak.
In all likelihood he didn’t realize it was a tail. Lawrence imagined that if it were him, he’d wonder what kind of fur it was and how much it was worth.
Still, when it came to keeping a straight face, that was a separate matter entirely.
“You’re quick enough, but you lack experience.”
Apparently having finished her grooming, Holo tucked her tail back underneath her skirt and spoke. The face underneath the cloak was that of a girl barely in her mid-teens, which showed occasional glimpses of someone much younger.
Yet her words had the air of someone much older.
“Still, one will grow wiser with age.”
“How many hundreds of years do you think it will take?” Lawrence headed off her attempt to tease him.
Surprised, she laughed loudly. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! You are rather quick, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps you’re just old and slow.”
“Heh-heh. Do you know why we wolves attack people in the mountains?”
Lawrence was unable to keep up with Holo’s sudden segue, so he could only answer with a confused, “Er, no.”
“It is because we wish to eat human brains and gain their knowledge.” Holo grinned, baring her fangs.
Even if she was joking, Lawrence shivered unconsciously, his breath catching.
A few seconds passed; he realized he’d lost.
“You’re still a pup. Hardly a match for
Lawrence watched Zheren, feeling a certain nostalgia for the time before he’d acquired his wagon.
“Are we not going with him?” Holo asked as Zheren’s form disappeared into the distance. Having checked to see that there was no one around to see her, she was grooming her tail fur.
Possibly because she had to cover her ears with the cloak, she did not bother combing her fall of chestnut hair, merely tying it back with a length of hempen rope. Lawrence felt that she could at least comb it, but he had no comb to offer. He resolved to acquire a comb and hat when they arrived in Pazzio.
“It rained all day yesterday, so he’ll make better time on foot than we can on the wagon. There’s no need for him to slow down on our account.”
“True, merchants are always on about time.”
“Time is money.”
“Ho-ho! An interesting saying. Time is money, is it?”
“As long as we have time, we can make money.”
“’Tis true. Though it’s not how I think,” said Holo, casting a glance to her tail.
Her magnificent tail was long enough to hang past the back of her knees. The abundant fur would probably fetch a good price if shorn and sold.
“I imagine the farmers you watched over for so many centuries were mindful of time.”
As soon as Lawrence said it, he realized he probably shouldn’t have. Holo glanced at him as if to say “I’ll let you have that one,” smiling impishly.
“Hmph. At what have you been looking? The farmers care nary a whit for time. It’s the air they’re mindful of.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“They wake in the dawn air, work the farm in the morning air, pull the weeds in the afternoon air, twist rope in the rainy air. They worry over their crops in the windy air, watch them grow in the summer air, celebrate the harvest in the autumn air, and in the winter air they wait for spring. They think not of time—like me, they note only the air.”
Lawrence couldn’t say that he understood all of what Holo said, but there were parts he followed. He nodded, impressed, which seemed to satisfy Holo; she puffed up her chest and sniffed proudly.
The self-proclaimed Wisewolf evidently didn’t feel the slightest need for humility.
Just then, a person who seemed to be another traveling merchant came across the road.
Although Holo’s ears were hidden by the cloak, her tail was in plain view.
The passerby stared at Holo’s tail, although he didn’t speak.
In all likelihood he didn’t realize it was a tail. Lawrence imagined that if it were him, he’d wonder what kind of fur it was and how much it was worth.
Still, when it came to keeping a straight face, that was a separate matter entirely.
“You’re quick enough, but you lack experience.”
Apparently having finished her grooming, Holo tucked her tail back underneath her skirt and spoke. The face underneath the cloak was that of a girl barely in her mid-teens, which showed occasional glimpses of someone much younger.
Yet her words had the air of someone much older.
“Still, one will grow wiser with age.”
“How many hundreds of years do you think it will take?” Lawrence headed off her attempt to tease him.
Surprised, she laughed loudly. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! You are rather quick, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps you’re just old and slow.”
“Heh-heh. Do you know why we wolves attack people in the mountains?”
Lawrence was unable to keep up with Holo’s sudden segue, so he could only answer with a confused, “Er, no.”
“It is because we wish to eat human brains and gain their knowledge.” Holo grinned, baring her fangs.
Even if she was joking, Lawrence shivered unconsciously, his breath catching.
A few seconds passed; he realized he’d lost.
“You’re still a pup. Hardly a match for
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