Anne Bishop - Written in Red

Thanking John, she headed toward the back of the store, more and more nervous about the Wolf who seemed intent on following her. She breathed a sigh of relief when he hesitated, then turned and went into A Little Bite. Wanting to get back to the office before he began following her again, she flung open the back door of HGR and hurried to the open door of Henry’s yard.

A snowball hit her shoulder, surprising a squeak out of her. But it was the Wolf charging at her that made her scream so loud the Crows and Hawks that were all around Henry’s yard and the Liaison’s Office took off in a flurry of wings. Meg dropped to her hands and knees, then curled up, covering her head and neck with her arms.

The Wolf landed on her back, snarling fiercely as he slid off her in his attempt to grab at her arms.

Then a small head shoved its way under her arm, and a tongue gave her face a couple of quick licks. Sam talked at her for a moment before he pulled his head out of the space and happily jumped on her again.

Henry’s laugh boomed out. “You caught her good and proper, Sam. Now let her up.”

Meg counted to ten. When no one jumped on her, she slowly uncurled. A moment later, a big hand grabbed the back of her coat, hauled her upright, and began whacking the snow off her.

“You make a fine squeaky toy, Meg,” Henry said, his voice suffused with laughter. “Sam, it’s time for you to go.”

“That’s enough,” she gasped, brushing the snow off the front of her coat.

Henry picked up her purse and the carry bag, brushing the snow off both of them. “It was nice of you to play at being prey.”

She hadn’t been playing at anything. The red harness or the size of the animal hadn’t registered in her brain. All she’d seen was a Wolf heading toward her at a full run. Sam had looked a lot bigger in that moment, and dropping to the ground had been instinctive.

“I probably should have run,” she murmured, taking the purse and carry bag from Henry. Sam returned, mouthing one end of the leash as he dragged it behind him.

“No,” Henry said quietly, his attention on something behind her. “Running would have been the wrong thing to do.”

Taking the leash from Sam, she clipped it to his harness and slipped the other end over her wrist before turning to look at whatever Henry was watching.

The Wolf who had followed her in HGR was standing nearby, holding one of the insulated lunch boxes Tess used to deliver food or coffee to people working in the Market Square. He stared at her with a fury that bordered on crazed hatred.

“What do you want, Ferus?” Henry asked.

It was Sam, standing between her feet and snarling at the other Wolf, that finally pulled Ferus’s attention away from her. But not for long. He couldn’t seem to tear his focus away from the harness and leash that attached Sam to a human.

“Ferus.” Henry’s voice was both command and warning.

“Tess asked me to carry this for the Liaison ,” Ferus said, the words almost lost in the growling voice.

“You should go now,” Henry said to Meg, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll need to open up for afternoon deliveries soon.” He gave her a little push toward the office.

“Come on, Sam,” Meg said, too scared now to do more than whisper.

All the way back to the office, Sam ran to the end of the leash, then stopped and kept watch until she caught up to him. And all the way back, Ferus trailed behind them, a silent threat.

Memory. A movie clip showing a pack of ordinary wolves pulling down a deer. Beginning to feed before the deer was dead. Ripping. Tearing. Gorging on fresh meat.

They had watched that same clip for an entire afternoon because one of the girls had fought against being cut, and the resulting prophecy had been of inferior quality. And while the girls watched the clip, the Walking Names had whispered over and over, “That could be you. If we ever stop taking care of you, that is what the wolves will do to you.”

They took care of property, not people. Willing to risk her life in order to have a life, she had run and had ended up in a Courtyard, hiding among beings who were even more dangerous than the man who saw her as nothing but a living tool. Despite Simon snarling at her about one thing or another and always threatening to eat her because she had done something he didn’t like, and despite the conditioned fear of the Others the Walking Names had tried to instill in her, she hadn’t thought of herself as prey. Until now.

She didn’t need to cut skin to know that was exactly how Ferus saw her. To him, human equaled prey, equaled meat. She didn’t need the razor to know it wasn’t a question of if he would pull her down and rip her open like the deer she had seen in that movie clip; it was a question of when.

She had been so busy building a life here, she had forgotten the other part of her personal vision. She was going to die in this Courtyard.

But she’d also seen herself in that narrow bed, and Simon pacing in that white room. How could she be there if the Wolves tore her apart?

Sam yipped, and she realized they had reached the office’s back door. Her hands shook as she struggled to get the key in the lock.

Once she had the door open and Sam had darted inside, she dared to look at the other Wolf . “Thank you for carrying the lunch.”

He just stared at her. Then he held out the lunch box.

Taking it, she backed inside the office and closed the door—and almost wet herself when the furious howl sounded from the other side of the door.

Panting in her effort to breathe, she set all the bags on the small table and ignored the snow she was tracking on the floor. Slipping the leash off her wrist and stripping off her coat, she went into the bathroom, shutting the door before Sam could follow her.

She needed to pee but now she couldn’t relax her muscles enough to go. Finally able to take care of business, she left the bathroom in time to see Sam climb up on a chair and try to snatch the lunch box.

Grabbing the pup, she dried off his feet, removed her boots, and cleaned up the floor. Then, with him dancing around her, she opened the lunch box. A container of beef and vegetable soup for her, and a smaller container of soup for Sam. Dumping out the untouched kibble, she poured the soup in his bowl, dipping her finger into it to make sure it wasn’t too hot. He began lapping up soup as soon as she got out of his way, so she opened her own container. That soup was hot, and she realized Tess must have deliberately let Sam’s serving cool off. A cheese sandwich was included with her lunch. Tearing off a piece, she gave it to Sam, then forced herself to eat a bite of the sandwich and a couple of spoonfuls of soup. Her stomach was still flipping with fear, so even that little bit of food made her queasy.

Giving up, she heated water while she wrapped up the food—and wondered if she was going to have to puppy-proof the fridge and lower cupboards.

After making a cup of peppermint tea, she grabbed the carry bag of books and headed for the front room, intending to open up early and take a better look at the books in between deliveries.

The box of sugar lumps she’d left on the sorting table was knocked over and the top of the box was torn. Drawers where she kept her office supplies were pulled open.

And there was someone making furtive noises in the front room.

Quietly turning the knob, Meg yanked the Private door open, then stared at the Crow who, flustered at being caught, almost fell off the counter.