Wolf's Kiss: Chapter 1

Clutching his knife in one hand, Tesmerin set down his basket of dragontongue mushrooms and catella roots, stretching up on his toes to reach the dangling wisps of mage’s beard hanging from an oak branch. The pale lichen was hard to find and invaluable, revered for its healing properties. Deftly slicing it away from the bark, he dropped it into his basket.

 

Moving carefully through the forest, his sharp eyes searched the foliage for familiar plants and herbs. He wasn’t looking for a wolf, so it came as quite a shock when he nearly trod upon one, crouched in the deep leaves beneath a maple. Scrambling back, Tesmerin dropped his basket, spilling his harvest upon the forest floor. The wolf never moved, staring at him with unblinking amber eyes.

 

Sunlight glinted off Tesmerin’s blade as he held the knife out before him, his hand shaking. Ears flat against its skull, the wolf whined, a sound that pulled at the healer’s soul. Since it hadn’t attacked or run off, there was only one explanation. Tesmerin grabbed a nearby stick and used it to probe among the leaves near the wolf’s front feet. Sure enough, he found the anchor posts for a poacher’s trap, driven through the links of a heavy steel chain.

 

“You poor thing,” Tesmerin said. “You’re not even what those bastards are after.” Wolf pelts were considered a peasant’s fur and as such, not worth a poacher’s time. They were after the prized skins, ones unscrupulous lords and kings would pay handsomely for–unicorn, dragon, and shival. This unfortunate wolf would likely be shot, its carcass used to bait the next trap. Tesmerin pushed at the leaves with his stick, uncovering the shiny silver edge of the vicious trap, the metal streaked with dark, dried blood.

 

“I suppose if I tried to let you go, you’d just bite me, wouldn’t you?” he muttered, but if he could get that trap, take it, destroy it, it might inconvenience the poachers a little, at least. It might be worth getting bitten.

 

Holding the stick out in front of him, Tesmerin put his knife away. His heart pounded as he crept forward, the leaves rustling beneath him. A bite to an arm or a leg he could heal without too much trouble. He just had to protect his throat and face. The wolf watched him, but made no move as he reached out with his free hand and brushed the remaining leaves away from the trap.

 

No wonder it didn’t move–the jagged edges of the trap had cut its slender foreleg to the bone. Any movement would have only increased its agony. Tesmerin hesitated, then set down his stick and reached down with both hands to pry the trap open. The wolf whined again as the metal jaws slowly parted, Tesmerin’s arms trembling with the effort. As soon as there was room to pull its large paw out, the wolf leaped back. Tesmerin jerked his hands away and the trap snapped shut with a metallic chime that echoed through the forest.

 

Frowning, Tesmerin picked up the heavy trap. It sounded more like silver than steel. Using the hem of his shirt, he wiped away the blood, revealing runes etched into the shiny metal. Silver was the best metal for holding a spell, but why would anyone enchant an animal trap?

 

Tesmerin glanced up, surprised to see the wolf standing little more than an arm’s length away, its injured leg tucked up against its chest and blood dripping on the ground. With a plaintive whine, it took a hobbling step toward him. Tesmerin grabbed his stick again, but the wolf didn’t come any closer. Tesmerin didn’t have much experience with wolves, but he couldn’t imagine this being normal behavior.

 

“Where’s your master?” he asked, glancing around. Of the local lords wealthy enough to own a tamed wolf, he couldn’t think of one who would be glad to see him with their prized pet in such a condition. Why would any of them listen to a simple healer, after all?

 

Tesmerin ran a hand back through his shaggy hair as he eyed the wound on the wolf’s leg. He was a healer. Looking around, he found his basket and quickly scooped the spilled contents back inside, picking out the mage’s beard and a piece of young, green blackberry stalk. Using his knife, he peeled away the outer skin of the stalk and then used the butt of the knife to mash the soft pulp against a rock before working the juice into the lacy lichen. Now came the hard part.

 

Looking over at the wolf, he pointed at the ground. “Sit?”

 

Shockingly, the wolf obeyed, extending its injured foreleg and pawing at the air. His hand full of blackberry pulp and lichen, Tesmerin reached out and placed his hands over the injury, the coarse fur stiff with blood and dirt. Closing his eyes, Tesmerin opened his soul to the power within himself, releasing the magic he always kept so tightly contained. Freed, it raced like wildfire through his veins, burning coldly beneath his skin. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, picturing a string of healing runes in his mind and he drew a slow breath, holding it as he let the energy build, and as he exhaled, he turned the spell loose, into the wolf’s injury.

 

Drawing back, Tesmerin wiped his pulpy hand in the leaves, smiling to himself as the wolf stood and tested out its healed leg. It took a few steps and Tesmerin waited for it to run away into the woods, but it just stood and stared at him.

 

“Oh, no, I can’t take you home,” he said with a chuckle. “I can barely manage to feed myself. Go on, now– Go back to your master.” He turned back to his basket, rummaging around in the leaves for any lost roots or mushrooms. A cold, damp breath of air brushed over his bare arm and he glanced up, his eyes widening at the sight of a tall, handsome man with sandy hair falling about his shoulders and intense amber eyes standing over him.

 

Tesmerin scrambled to his feet.

 

“Who are you?” he asked, reaching for his knife. The man grabbed him by the wrist, jerking him close, his other arm wrapping around Tesmerin’s waist and pulling him tight against the tall man’s body. Panic flooded through Tesmerin, making it hard to breathe.

 

“Relax, my savior,” the man said with a chuckle, his voice rich and deep. “I wanted to thank you properly for saving my life.” Tesmerin made a startled sound as the man kissed him, warm lips both hungry and gentle. Tesmerin didn’t know how to respond and after a moment the man drew back and released him.

 

“Why did you do that?” Tesmerin demanded, reaching up to touch his tingling lips. No one had ever kissed him like that before.

 

“I won’t forget your kindness, stranger,” the man said in lieu of an answer. He bowed, then grabbed the silver animal trap and tore the long posts right out of the ground. Tesmerin stared, his mouth dropping open as the mysterious man disappeared, dissolving into a cloud of churning black mist. When the mist faded, the wolf stood in his place. The wolf winked at him, then turned and trotted off into the woods.