Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Before me flowed a bloated, roaring river, water brown, full of sediment and debris that would take weeks to purge. My nose smelled nothing but mud and the occasional logs that raced by in the current. And while I could see the opposing shoreline about 40 feet ahead of me, trying to cross the river in this state would mean certain death. 

Red pulled me back just as my ears were starting to ring from the noise of the flooded water vein. 

“What’s the verdict?” I asked, happy to see her again even though she’d only been gone for maybe an hour. 

“Yeah, flooding took out the Kirkson Bridge. It was going to be the closest crossing to here,” my wife said, putting her coal hair up into a ponytail. 

I looked down at the ground, eye tracing a line of ants near my feet. Taking a step back, I sighed. 

“How about you? Find anyone nearby who could share some information?” Red asked. 

Overhead, the butterscotch sun was a few hours from setting, and I’d hoped for us to be closer to the next town. Scratching my arm, I was growing increasingly aware of that naked feeling creeping up on me again. Was it always going to be like this until I had my heart back and beating in my chest? Fuck. 

She said we were a day away, but that could increase if we can’t find a quick way across this river, I thought. 

Scratching the top of my head, I sighed again. 

“Here, you’re stressed. I know what’ll help,” Red said, stepping behind me. 

I raised an eyebrow before I felt her nails on the back of my head. Before I could ask what my wife was doing, she’d started scritching the space just behind my ears. And I was fucking torn. 

Because, on the one hand, that was humiliating. That was where you scratched your dog to get them to calm down. I remembered reading a pamphlet at the vet once when my friend’s turtle had stopped eating. It said when you scratched a dog behind the ears, they essentially got high on their hormones because it released endorphins. 

I was a fucking goddess, and in a previous life, this would have been embarrassing to no end. But here. . . in this life. . . as the goddess of wolves who carried their ears, tail, claws, eyes, and fangs. . . fuck. There was no out-logic-ing this. 

As my shoulders sagged, and tingling ran down my neck, Red lightly pulled me back to a large flat stone big enough for me to sit on. 

Lazily, my eyes slid down into a resting place I didn’t anticipate establishing for them, and when Red started scratching with both hands, I might have murmured courtesy of a fuzziness that spread over the top of my brain like a cozy blanket on a chilly night. 

And as she continued, I heard a self-satisfied giggle she tried to stifle in her throat. 

“Don’t you get too smug back there,” I muttered, barely able to form words. The high was too nice, and I felt my head leaning down involuntarily. 

“I think I can be as smug as I want, darling,” Red said. 

It was minute, but I heard a light pop in her lips as a smile spread across her face revealing more teeth. 

“Not sure if you remember yet, but many a stressed moment was defeated exactly like this. Trust me, I know exactly what to do to my goddess to bring her down,” the huntsman said. 

And with my eyes closed, I pictured newly-stirred memories. A variety of stressors found ways to invade my life, declining game for a hunt, the various dangers that inhabit Gyrrelle, members of my pack growing sick, and more. 

Each time Red knew exactly what to do and how to summon calm to my storm. Knowing Ruka the Wolf Goddess had an extended history of enjoying this made it a little less mortifying, that is. . . until I realized my tail was wagging. 

And now we’re back to perturbed, I thought. Samson was defeated by having his hair cut, Achilles the proper placement of an arrow, and Ruka? Well, head scritches would level her in five seconds flat. 

I exhaled when she stopped and strongly considered petitioning her to continue. But I somehow salvaged my pride enough to bite my tongue. As for Red, she crossed her arms, as if waiting for me to ask. And I somehow knew she would if I would but humble myself. This was apparently a game I’d played with my wife for many seasons. 

Deciding to change the topic, I said, “I only came across one other person, a solitary hunter. He was also prevented from continuing on this path by the flooded river, told me it’d been this way for the past three days.” 

My wife’s grin faded, and she popped her knuckles. Adjusting her belt and the hand axe at her side, Red thought for a moment. 

“I guess we wait for Pyra to return and see what she has to report,” Red said. 

It didn’t take even half an hour for the bard to step out of the trees with a look of agitation on her face. The fox didn’t have any good news to share. 

“Found the ferry,” she said. “What’s left of the damn thing is vertical, pressed against a series of rocks from the current. No sign of the ferryman.” 

We all decided to take a good sit and consider our next options. 

“Where does that leave us?” I asked. 

“I could make the illusion of a boat,” Pyra said with a dry laugh that faded into a tired silence.

Red had gone one way along the river, and Pyra went in the opposite direction. No ferry and no bridge meant I was delayed from the first piece of my heart. And that was causing my arm to shiver again, feeling bare and exposed. 

The snap of twigs behind us brought me back to the present as the three of us stood up in a hurry. Red had her hand on the head of her hand axe, and even Pyra had pulled out a slim knife from goddess knows where. It looks like the thing was designed to be thrown. 

The wind was blowing behind us from across the river, so I couldn’t smell what was approaching. More hunters? Minions of the Bear God? No. 

Two shaggy beasts stepped into view from nearby underbrush, and I recognized them immediately as wolves that’d helped herd the red deer back in Decarth. Had they followed us out of the village over the last couple of days?

At the sight of me, the wolves’ tails started to wag, pink tongues drooping on opposite sides. When I knelt to the ground with my arms open and a smile on my wife, the wolves trotted across the forest floor to me, licking my cheeks and sticking their noises close to my open mouth. 

I kissed the tops of their heads and spoke their names aloud for Red and Pyra to hear. 

“Gray paws and Streak. Why on Earth are you here?” I asked, laughing. 

Gray Paws was named for the dark shade of gray fur that started at his paws and went a few inches up his legs, while the rest of him was covered in black hair. He was the bigger of the two wolves. 

Streak was fuzzier and was missing one of her canines. I named her for a white streak of fur on her belly set apart from the vermillion hair that covered the rest of her body. 

“Why did they follow us?” Red asked. 

As if to answer my wife, Gray Paws gave a light single bark. Streak stared at me until she sneezed and then licked my cheek again. 

“They were lone wolves until I called them,” I said, rubbing the sides of my face against theirs, taking in the scents of pine trees and bushes they’d squeezed through on their journey to find me again. “The two of them enjoyed the feeling of being in a pack and working with the other 50 wolves to herd the deer. And so I guess they figured being in proximity to their goddess and her companions was a good pack to seek out.” 

Pyra raised an eyebrow. 

“They want to travel with us?” the bard asked, cocking her head to the side at an angle. 

I shrugged. 

“Guess so. Is that going to be a problem? They can help hunt and keep watch when we camp,” I said, already deciding Gray Paws and Streak were pack members. I was getting really quick at deciding on pack membership. Perhaps it helped there was no joining committee to decide on these things. I was the Wolf Goddess, after all. When I said you were pack, you were pack. 

My wife and Pyra exchanged glances but had nothing more to say on the subject besides some growling stomachs. We’d skipped lunch upon sight of the flooded river, spurred on to find a way across. 

“Any chance you can ask them to hunt now?” Pyra asked. 

I nodded and turned back to them. 

“Can you please track down some game for an early dinner?” I asked. 

Gray Paws and Streak barked excitedly, and I kissed them each on the snout, whispering a blessing of a successful hunt over them, a subtle use of my magic I was barely conscious of. 

“May your legs be swift, your senses sharp, and your jaws full upon return,” I whispered as my divine mark lightly glowed. 

The pair returned an hour later. Streak had a pair of dead quails while Gray Paws carried four squirrels in his jaws. 

“You’ve both had a successful hunt,” I said, smiling and hugging the newest members of our pack. “I bless you for your efforts and thank you for your offering.” 

Within another hour, Pyra and Red were sitting against opposite sides of a tree, tearing into roasted meat and some more wild mushrooms. 

I made sure Gray Paws and Streak ate before me, the pair curled up tight against my left and right sides. When they were finished, Streak got up and grabbed the stick one of the quails had been roasting on next to the fire. She brought it over to me, and I laughed. 

“Okay, okay. I’m going to eat,” I said, thanking her with a ruffle before the ears. She whined for a moment and then sat down with her head in my lap. Seeing this, Gray Paws put his head on the other side of my lap. 

Red might have competition for my body heat if these two are always going to be like this, I thought. The sun set, and we decided that the next morning we’d set out down the path my wife initially walked to find something she called the LeMont Bridge. It was half a day out of our way, but if it was still intact, it might be our only option. 

That delay grated on me, and I felt impatience twitch within my chest where a beating heart should be. But I gave up. There was nothing more to be done about it tonight. 

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Pulling out her lute, Pyra started an after-dinner tune as embers from the fire continued to burn bright from our cooking. The bard sang a song about a field of crimson flowers that one could spin around in as though it were a dream. 

Gray Paws howled as Pyra sang, causing the musician to smile all the more. 

She played a few more tunes before a loud cry pierced the camp. It sounded like a woman screaming from the direction of the river, but Pyra bolted upright, lute clattering to the ground. With a near-full moon above us, we stared out into the stampeding river of dark water, trying to find the source of the noise. 

I spotted it first, standing up slowly. A small fox bobbed in the water being dragged along by the current. It sank from view, causing Pyra’s fist to clench until it resurfaced a moment later further down the stream. 

Again it wailed, desperate to be on dry land. We all seemed to understand the creature had met a horrible fate. But it was 20 feet out in the middle of the water. There was nothing to be done about it. 

Whether the fox had fallen in trying to catch a fish or been chased into the water by the hunter I met earlier, its fate was sealed. 

Red shook her head with pity. But this was the way of the world. Animals, like people, died every day, even my wolves. Gray Paws and Streak certainly wouldn’t be here forever. 

I started to sit back down when I caught a glimpse of Pyra’s face. It was covered in a canyon of wrinkles as she furrowed her brow, ears twitching with every scream the little fox put out into the night air. But the cries were growing weaker. 

Surely she understood that foxes died, and even her mother couldn’t save each one. That was simply mad. Foxes would get caught in traps. They’d be hunted for food. Hell, they’d be eaten by wolves. 

But here and now, at this moment, my bard was gripped by nothing less than anguish at the cries coming from the water, though less frequently now. 

I didn’t like the look on her face. I hated how it made me feel like sadness and panic were gripping my chest simultaneously. 

Fuck. Nobody can save every fox, I thought, standing up. But I can save this one. 

When the fox moved out of sight, I started running after it on the shoreline in the direction Pyra ran to find the ferry. 

“Where are you going?” Red called, scrambling up. 

I didn’t answer her, not having time to focus on anything but the fox, which I barely caught up with. It went under and did not surface for a long time. Finally, the poor thing came up for a desperate gulp of air, one of its last if I didn’t hurry. But what could I do? With full power, a raging river would be nothing to me. But I only had a little magic courtesy of my divine mark. 

While I tried to think, nearly tripping over an exposed tree root, I noticed Gray Paws and Streak running at my sides. I felt them, the beat of their hearts, their affection for their goddess. If I was running toward something, they’d always be there next to me. . . because they were pack, dammit. That meant something now, beyond loyalty, beyond basic instinct. 

I’d had wolves wandering with me last time I’d been alive, I remembered. And. . . the wolves made me stronger just by proximity. It didn’t matter as much when I had my heart, but now, when every shred of magic added up and mattered? 

I felt like the person at the gas station counter with the only piece of food they could afford, counting out spare change, all they had, praying there were enough dimes and nickels to let them just get this one thing. 

My magic responded to my desperation as the fox nearly went underwater again. No doubt about it, the energy within me was stronger with Gray Paws and Streak next to me. With their added magic, I felt like an additional threshold had been met, and a new memory appeared in my noggin. 

I used to have a grimoire. I used my magic frequently, casting spells as situations called for them. And I knew where I hid the damn thing before going to face the Bear God one last time. But more importantly, here and now, I recalled the opening spell written on the first few pages. 

The river rounded a bank, and the fox had given up at this point, exhausted beyond all limits. It was certain death was coming to claim soon.  

Here I slammed my feet into the wet clay beneath me and extended my arm with the divine mark glowing a bright silver. Streak and Gray Paws were glowing their own shade of silver hanging over their fur like a light aura. Our light danced over nearby oak trees and the leaves of redberry bushes. 

“The first spell,” I yelled, pointing my hand at the fox. “Spectral skull.” 

Picturing the construct forming over the water, I saw it take shape in powder white light. A ghostly wolf head formed from a skeleton and then growing fur and fangs of its own. The thing was about the size of my head. 

Its empty eye sockets were suddenly filled with glimmering amber light that highlighted the dark water beneath it. 

Driving the spectral wolf skull forward with my will, it shot across the water after the fox which submerged a final time, eyes closed in acceptance of its fate. But I was going to change that fate this night. I was Ruka the Wolf Goddess. What was the purpose of divinity if not to defy or rewrite fate?

Moving my claws in a downward motion and opening my mouth, I sent the skull down into the water where the fox vanished. My heart was pounding, and this spell was taking every ounce of concentration and magic I had, leaving dizziness digging at the edge of my eyesight and attention span. 

“C’mon. . . c’mon. Give it back,” I hissed. My wolves sat next to me, panting and waiting. 

At last, the skull emerged from the water with the fox locked in its jaws. Pulling it back with the last fumes of my energy, I saw the spectral construct had the fox by the scruff of its neck. . . and barely. Its grip was loosening as my concentration diminished. 

I waded out into the water until it was up to my knees just as the skull vanished, leaving the fox to fall into my arms. 

With a light gasp, I held the shivering and drenched canid. She was coughing up water and then choking for air. Her fur was a mix of gray and red, but it was soaked at the moment leaving the vixen from her full typical fluffiness. 

Gray Paws and Streak looked up at me as I reached the shore again, turning their heads to the side. 

“Be nice to her. She’s had a long day,” I chuckled, holding her closer to my body to absorb at least some warmth until I could get her back to the fire. 

It was then Gray Paws lightly barked. 

“Absolutely not. I did not fish her out of the water for dessert. If you’re still hungry, there might be a squirrel left at camp,” I said. 

The wolf’s ears twitched and then he flashed me a sheepish grin. 

“No, off limits today, tomorrow, and the next day. She’s mine,” I said. 

We set off back to camp, and I saw the fox finally catch her breath. Her heartbeat was still chugging along at a rapid pace, but when her yellow-green eyes met my own, understanding seemed to pass between us. 

“You’re safe and under my protection now,” I whispered. 

Her heartbeat finally slowed to a resting pace, and I brought the vixen over to the fire. 

“Holy shit, you got her. And only your legs are wet. How’d you do it?” Red asked, standing up. 

“A little spellwork,” I said, coughing. 

Pyra walked over with a look of immense relief on her face. Her nose bumped up against the vixen’s, and they seemed to connect almost instantly. 

The bard brought over her blanket and used it to dry off the canid. 

I stood there while Pyra dried her off. Red looked from the creature back to me. My wolves sat on either side of me, looking up expectantly. 

“So. . . what? You dry her off and let her go on her way?” my wife asked. “Hope she doesn’t fall in again?”

The animal in my arms wasn’t a wolf. But it also wasn’t the first fox to come into my life with a little chaos. Looking over at Pyra, I saw her face carried a subtle hope, though she tried her hide it. There was a gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been present before she started drying the vixen off. What I’d done today meant something to her. And even if she wasn’t a wolf, she’d seen a goddess that not only swore to protect her but was now clearly invested in her happiness as well. That seemed to bring our newly-formed relationship to a different level.  

So what else could I do?

“No. She stays,” I said. 

Red and Pyra exchanged glances. My wife didn’t seem upset, just surprised. 

“Are you sure? The wolves I understand, but. . . a fox?” Red asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Pyra, can you help me? I seem to have drained my magic rescuing her,” I said, turning to look at my wife with a smile. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind the additional company.” 

The huntsman shrugged as the bard walked over and placed her hands on my left shoulder. They glowed with a subtle red, and I felt her magic push into me, flowing down toward my divine mark. The demigod’s power became my own because she’d come to place faith in me now. 

And with that power, I bathed the fox in my aura. I made her my own, just as I had Gray Paws and Streak. She lay in my arms feeling my energy wash over her. 

Looking at Pyra, then back down at the vixen, I said, “We name you Katira. You are now pack.” 

As the light faded, I felt added warmth return to our newest pack member. My legs buckled, and Pyra helped me sit down. 

I saw there was indeed one squirrel left on a stick next to the fire. Reaching forward, I plucked it from the heat and offered it to Katira, who devoured the thing while sitting in my lap. Streak and Gray Paws took their places at my side, heads in my lap, noses touching the vixen’s tail, which had regained some poofyness. 

Pyra found her voice again for a renewed song about friends plucked from near-drowning danger, and Red grinned. 

My wife said, “We’re gonna need a bigger tent space.” 

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