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CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PAST IS A KIND OF PRESENT
Fallon stared at the back of Pix’s head as they marched through the woods. Well, as the others slogged through the thick forest and he floated behind them.
They were lost.
Even upside-down, he knew they were.
She knew they were.
Rat’s tail, even the snake and bird knew.
But he wouldn’t be the one to say it. Nope. He’d just gotten that blasted pink ribbon removed; he wasn’t in any hurry to have it re-wrapped.
“You could at least try not to look so smug,” hissed the snake. “It makes you look stuffed-up and ridiculous, all topsy-turvy like that.”
“This is your kingdom, isn’t it?” the crow cawed at him as it fluttered around his head. “Don’t you know where we are?”
“I knew where we were,” he mumbled, huffing the bird out of his face. “When we were down by the river, I knew exactly where I was. But it’s a little hard to gauge distance, direction, or speed while blood is rushing from your feet to your head and your face is covered with satin.”
“If you can’t help,” Pix snapped, without turning around, “you can frogging well shut it.” Her wings twitched. “All of you.”
“Well, as I huff and puff, if it isn’t Shadow Peaks’s mini mistress.”
Fallon’s spine stiffened as he heard a low, gravelly voice chuckle. Even hanging upside down, his body braced for battle when he saw Pix wince before stilling into a cultivated indifference.
Pix turned to face a shadowy figure hidden in the brush. “What are you doing here?”
A tall, grey wolf stepped out of the shadows, a sly grin stretching its jaws. Unlike the river bull or dragons that he usually fought, the wolf was much more human-like. It walked on two legs and talked. And, when he looked into its eyes, he saw devious intelligence and a disturbing awareness. “Seeing as this is pack territory,” it said in a mocking scold, “I should be asking you that.”
Pix looked around and cringed. “I thought it looked familiar.”
Stalking closer, the wolf licked its sharp teeth and looked Pix up and down. “Oh, I’ll bet.” It came close to sniff Pix’s neck. “There are things we’ve done in these woods that I’ll never forget.” Fallon’s gaze narrowed at the insinuating tone in the beast’s voice. Confused, he frowned as the creature leaned worryingly—intimately—near and nipped at her ear. “Isn’t that right, Pixy?”
Pixy?
Pix’s wing twitched irritatedly. “That was a long time ago, Den.”
Den?
Fallon studied the upright wolf again, this time more closely. The wolf’s—Den’s—hand gripped Pix’s waist, its claws teasingly tapping against her side. Its head almost nuzzled Pix’s neck, traversing the length like it knew the path well. Fallon felt a sneaking suspicion tickle his senses.
He shook his head. No. That couldn’t be. How could this monster know Pix?
Yet she was a monster—of a kind—as well. So maybe…
Yet they way it looked at her. It was like it knew something about her—a side of her—that few others did. It looked at her like a lover.
Fallon recoiled at the thought of this creature in love with Pix. Never.
Den laughed but let go of its possessive grip. “Well, if it’s not to reminisce or rekindle, why did you come here?”
Pix shook her head. “I’m just trying to get home.”
“With a royal prize in tow, I see,” Den said without even so much as a glance at Fallon.
Pix shot the wolf a daring glance. “I’m not looking for trouble.” But Fallon saw her pull her wand from the air. She might not be looking for trouble, but she was ready for it. His head nodded in approval.
The wolf held out its hands in mock innocence. “Trouble? Me?” It frowned, even as its eyes grinned. “I would never.”
Pix scoffed. “I remember trouble being your shadow, following you everywhere you went.”
The wolf gave a growling chuckle. “I remember that being the reason you liked me.” Den shrugged. “But I recognize the Starling whelp. I know what he is to you; I won’t stop you.”
Fallon bristled, even as Pix relaxed.
The wolf’s grin widened. “See, I can be helpful.” It sidled close to Pix again, placing its hands on her shoulders. “As long as you’re willing to help me too.”
***
Here it was.
Pix remembered what it was like to be with Den. Everything with her was a transaction. A deal. A figging bargain. And Den always found a way to be on the better side of it. Begrudgingly, Pix set her jaw. “What do you want?”
Den padded and paced about her with that same easy, loping swagger she always did when she knew she was about to get everything she wanted. “I’ll help you and prince-y boy here get out of the forest, if you help me get my brother out of a little mess.”
“If I remember right,” Lethe whispered in Pix’s ear, “Den and her family were always in the middle of some mess or feud or grudge and little rarely described it.”
Didn’t Pix know it. “But, lost as we are —in pack territory, no less—” Pix whispered back, “what other choice do we have?” After all, it was sheer luck that it’d been Den who found them and not one of her family members. Like her father. Pix shuddered.
Besides, she could handle Den. Pix had done it before; she’d do it again. Standing straighter, she looked Den in the eye. “What do you need?”
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