An Affinity For Fire

11. Tarragon

Tarragon was woken by the feeling of something warm, damp and rough scraping repeatedly against his cheek.

Yawning, he propped himself up on an elbow. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, early morning light, he became aware of an animal lying close to him. The pointed ears and gleaming, yellow eyes finally came into focus and Tarragon realised, in a moment of horror, that what he was looking at was a wolf.

A wolf which was three inches from his face and had been licking him as he slept.

"AGH!" He shot upright and frantically shuffled backwards, scraping at the ground in search of his knife. "Wake up! Clo, Leo, wake up!"

The pair sat up, rubbing their eyes in confusion.

"What in all Hells is wrong?" Clover asked.

Leo was the first of the two to notice the uninvited visitor. "Wolf!" He shouted, reaching for his crossbow and aiming it at the animal's head. Unperturbed, the wolf continued to examine Tarragon, cocking its head to one side and panting.

Refusing to take his eyes of fthe creature, Tarragon continued to fumble blindly at the ground, his fingers eventually falling on cold, hard steel. Slightly relieved but still fearing for his life, he pulled the blade in front of him, pointing it at the white beast. "Stay back. You hear me? Stay back!"

It didn't move. In fact, to Tarragon's surprise, it looked completely calm. As did the half-breeds, he noticed, a fact which confused him even more.

"Do you want me to shoot?" Leo asked, crossbow still extended in the wolf's direction.

"No!" Clover said. "Look at it. Does it look threatening to you?"

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one it's been licking!"

"Oh, come on, Tarry, you were asleep. If it wanted to eat you, you'd be dead," She protested.

Tarragon wasn't convinced. "So, what do you suggest we do, just ignore the hungry carnivore that's sat sizing me up?"

"Hold on," She said, making her way to the half-breeds. She riffled through her saddle bag, pulling out some of the leftover venison pie from the evening before and breaking off the pastry. Meat in hand, she edged slowly towards the animal and crouched down. "Here, wolfy. Here you go..." She extended her arm out as far as she could, palm open.

The wolf turned, noticing the offering, and plodded over to her outstretched hand. Tarragon watched in dread, waiting for it to take her arm off, but instead it calmly took the food and then lay down at her feet.

"Good wolfy," She said, scratching it behind the ears.

"What are you doing?!" Tarragon hissed.

"Tarry, relax. let's be logical here. It could have eaten us in the night but it didn't. If it was acting in a hostile manner, the half-breeds would be going crazy. And now it's just walking straight up to me and letting me pet it. Also, wolves are pack animals and I don't see any of its friends snooping around. What do you think that means?"

"I don't know, maybe it means he's an antisocial wolf." He waved his hands for added melodrama. "Maybe he has no friends because the other apex predators don't like him. To be honest, I don't care what it means. The fact remains that you are treating a very dangerous animal like a kitten."

Clover glared at him, jaw set in exasperation. "It means that it's probably not a wild animal. The chances are, it's a pet that's recently escaped or been abandoned."

Tarragon slowly lowered his knife. Looking at the creature, he realised that Clover was probably right. Considering its docile behaviour, it seemed perfectly plausible that it had been domesticated at some point.