The Wolf of the Wilds

The Ring

On the third day of self-imposed isolation, Helena and Adrian sat the dinner table. As Adrian read and Helena mixed herbs, his hand covered hers, rubbing her knuckles in slow circles. The steady tapping of her foot on the ground filled the still tower with a steady rhythm.

Grinding the components together in the mortar, she tapped the pestle against the side with a soft chink. The powder was fine and a light yellowish brown. Tipping it all into a glass pot, she fastened it tight, the scent of flowers and spices wafting up to her nose.

Adrian turned another page of his book, sighing softly. The noise was loud in the quiet room.

"Bored?" She broke the soft silence, regretting it a little when he paused his ministrations to look up at her.

"I'm just thinking is all. Being away from the pack is slowly driving me mad I think."

It was true. There was only so much time you could spend in the same person's company without going a little stir crazy. While they'd had a relatively pleasant few days, it'd been smattered with the odd waspish retort and they disagreed constantly over who should take the bed. So much so that the night before both had slept on the floor out of pure hard-headedness, the small cot left empty as they did their backs in on the hard, wooden ground.

"Yeah. I wish Ed would just tell us what his plan is already," she admitted. "But I suppose if he's talking to external contacts, then it'll take a while for the messengers to get back."

"True. It just feels like I'm living in purgatory. I need to get outside of the territory and do something rather than mope about and read." Thankful he resumed his attentions then, turning her hand over to trace the lines of her palm.

"We could go hunting? The forest should be reasonably cool today and we can take some food along with us." Her suggestion was met with a quiet hum.

"I'd never turn down lunch, but you can do the hunting part; I'll just pick herbs. I've only got two changes of clothes with me and I'm useless at getting blood out of fabric."

Helena snorted under her breath. "That's one of the few disadvantages of being male. Us women have the joy of having to clean up blood with every passing of the moon. Cold water and elbow grease."

Adrian laughed to himself, shaking his head. "True, true. I also don't have a habit of semi-regularly getting into violent fights to the death."

"Exactly."

Once they stopped procrastinating, they prepared for the trip. After packing food, drinks and hunting supplies, they left the tower. Unlike the days before, a cold wind swept the hills. A pleasant reprieve from the sun's violent heat. Without horses, the walk was long, but as the trees emerged overhead, they both enjoyed the peaceful rustling of leaves and the choir of song birds. As always, the earthy scent of mud and shrubbery was the balm that soothed some of the tension from Helena's forehead.

She searched out a good place to set her first trap and knelt as her fingers went about positioning each component in place. Adrian left her to it, instead inspecting the nearby foliage for anything of interest.

"It's a shame I didn't meet you a couple of months earlier. In early summer this entire forest is covered in bluebells. It's quite a sight," he said, delicately cutting several sprigs of dyer's greenweed from the edge of a sizable clearing.

She watched his back, considering him with a slight smile. "I've seen them bloom once. I remember it being incredibly beautiful."

He carefully tied the bundle and placed it inside his bag, turning around to peer over his shoulder. "Next year we should go and see them together."