Honeyed Pasture the world is already on my side

“But why do you want it?” guilelessly asked Grayday, and Szymon surprised himself by having the answer to that unexpected question ready and waiting. For Doe. At first, the golden-eyed wolf had been torn between giving the odd gift to the Leviathan or the Witch Doctor — but the very pretty but largely useless hide of a defenseless fawn wasn’t exactly an item that would pop up on a list titled “Ten Suitable Gifts for Your Warlord Brother — You Won't Believe the Things Wolves Are Hoarding These Days!” Swallowing, Szymon summoned speech again, and perhaps it was owed to the utter certainty he felt when it came to his feelings about Doe, but he managed with slightly less difficulty than usual: “A g-g-gift — for th-the girl I — ” Could he say it so baldly? “For m-my — Chosen One.” Szymon was not naïve; it was unwise to showcase one’s vulnerabilities, and he was incredibly vulnerable where Doe was concerned. He was also young and giddy in his first foray into love, and riding high on the success of his first hunt so soon after his spurdog catch.

Needless to say, he was far more open than any Cairn ought to have been.

It sounded like it was going to be an ordeal and a half, and Szymon wouldn’t blame the wolf if he wanted to get back to kith and kin — but he wasn’t going to spurn the offer of help, either. Maybe it would be slightly easier if they parceled out all the usable meat first, although it would leave behind a rather unappealing mess. Nodding toward the kill, which still remained largely intact, “T-T-Take all y-y-y-you need,” he urged Grayday, leaving it to the older male to take what he wished. So long as Szymon had meat enough for Doe and Skellige, all would be well. He had no attachments yet to the other wolves who lived in the bay — and even if he did, he had more than done his share with the caches of food littered throughout the territory.