Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “No, I have no idea.”
Erasmus looks at me for a long time, then sets the stick down. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a little wooden figure—a fox, smooth and perfect, the size of my thumb. He rolls it between his fingers, then hands it to me.
“He comes to disappear. Some people come to the woods to find themselves. Others come to lose what’s chasing them. Others have their own purposes which we will never know.”
I turn the fox over in my palm, feeling its contours. It’s beautiful.
“Okay,” I say in a slow voice. “I think Mr. McKnight’s the latter. He definitely keeps his own counsel, and I wouldn’t presume to know his motivations.”
Erasmus merely shrugs. “Mr. McKnight has been coming to these parts for years, and is known about town. But the wolf wears many disguises in these woods, Kat. Just be careful what you let follow you home.”
My hand tightens around the fox. “You mean Mr. McKnight? Is he the fox? Or the wolf?”
Erasmus shrugs. “Or yourself.”
Okay, this is getting really confusing, and I stare at the fire, my expression befuddled. Meanwhile, Erasmus stands, dusts off his pants, and stirs the fire with his boot. “You want another tea?”
I shake my head, picking up my basket before handing him the fox figurine. “Thanks for your hospitality, but no, I should get back.”
The old man nods, but doesn’t say goodbye. Just goes back to his whittling, as if I’m already gone.
I stand awkwardly, basket in hand, and walk back up the ridge, heart beating so loud I’m sure the whole forest can hear. The sky has gone from gray to a brighter sunshiny blue, and I feel relieved that the day is starting. I follow my own tracks, watch them vanish behind me with every step.
By the time I see the house, the windows are glowing warm and gold, and for a second I think about running past it, into the forest, until nothing of me remains. But I stop at the door, basket still full of herbs, and listen.
Inside, I hear the deep rumble of Talon’s voice, talking to himself or maybe to his editor on the satellite phone. I steel myself and go in.
I’m not sure what kind of girl I am.
But for now, I’m the kind who makes things work.
The afternoon passes by in a blur. Talon doesn’t come out for lunch, although when I come down later, he’s obviously eaten something, seeing that there’s a dirty dish in the sink. But it seems he’s aware of my whereabouts because at dinner, the man fixes me with a look.
“So where did you go this morning?”
“Just out foraging,” I say, trying to keep it light. “I needed some thyme, and I thought I saw some from the window, so I figured I’d check.”
Talon doesn’t buy it. He sets his glass down slowly, and crosses his arms.
“You disappeared for hours, Kat. You were gone for a while, and it couldn’t have been that hard to find thyme. So what were you doing?”
“I got caught up in the woods, that’s all. Sorry if I worried you.”
Talon shoots me a sharp look with those piercing blue eyes, and for a moment I see the wolf Erasmus warned me about. The hair at the back of my neck stands up, and I wonder if there’s some instinct in me, some evolutionary relic, that knows better than to let my guard down.
But the alpha male breaks eye contact first, letting his gaze fall to my legs, my hands, before coming back to look me in the eye.
“You meet the hermit?”
I blink. “You mean Erasmus?”
“Yeah. He’s harmless.” Talon uncrosses his arms, then stretches, his broad back cracking a bit. “But delusional. Guy’s lived alone too long—he invents stories about everyone. Including me.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. There’s a weird energy between us, like we’re both waiting for the other to make a move. Talon stretches again, but then goes back to his meal. We eat in silence, but this time it’s different—charged, brittle, like a wire stretched to its breaking point.
Halfway through the meal, Talon sets down his fork.
“So I wanted to let you know that I transferred the money,” he says. “I know you don’t have service here, but it was a direct deposit to your account. It should only take a day or two to clear.”
My heart goes cold, and I ask myself why because I just got paid a six figure sum. Yet my heart is racing as my fingers tremble. I set my fork down, too.
“Thank you,” I whisper, cheeks flushed.
The words hang there, silent and yet awkward too. I want to crawl under the table. I want to tell him that I’m not selling myself, that I’m not desperate, poor, and sad, willing to trade my innocence for cold, hard cash. Yet I can’t say those words because they would be a lie.