Chapter 17 – The Mountain

	“Are we certain about this?”  Grant asked nervously, as the server at the inn we'd chosen to get our final meal at dropped off our drinks.  Something called 'beer' for him, milk and tea for Puck and I.
	“No,” I said softly, looking down into my cup.  The milk smelled amazing, but even it wouldn't ease my worries right now.  “But. . . it feels right.  And Puck thinks so, too.”
	“I don't need the Spirits to tell me where Ransom's gone,” the fox said, sorting through the pack I'd returned to him and producing some kind of wrapped, crushed herbal mixture, before carefully pinching some of it up between his thumb and forefinger and sprinkling it into his tea.
	“. . . what are you taking?”  I asked, curiously.
	“It's a mixture of willow and birch shoots and bark shavings,”  Puck muttered, as he mixed it into his tea.  “It helps with pain.”
	I winced.  The fox was still covered in injuries and really should have been in bed.  But he'd absolutely insisted on leaving the Physician's, despite all of the man's warnings.
	The fox had a splint over a fractured leg and could barely walk, even with help.  He had two bad stab wounds to the ribs that he couldn't even remember receiving. . . I suspected they'd been Rourke's attempt to ensure he was dead, when the Len'sal had taken effect.  And he had more superficial injuries than I could count, which while not life-threatening, had to be awfully painful to endure.
	They'd pulled out several of his claws.  Pulled them out.
	“You should have stayed in bed, Puck,” I said with a sigh.
	The fox just shook his head, determinedly.  “No, I'm going with you.”
	“That's. . . you can't possibly-” Grant argued.
	“I will go alone, if you won't take me with you,” Puquanah snapped, looking up and somehow managing to stare the husky down, despite the fact that his pale eyes couldn't even focus on the man.  “I'm not arguing this out with either of you.”
	“Puck, I only just got you back. . .” I said softly, frightened.
	The fox turned to me, his tone losing some of its hard edge, but it was clear he was still firm on the issue.  “Shivah,” he said, “I appreciate our friendship, and everything you've done for me.  You saved my life.  I want you to know. . . I value how you feel.”  He took my hand, and squeezed it gently, “But,” he continued, in a soft tone, “I. . . love him.  I have to find him.”
	Both Grant and I fell silent.  Even the husky, whom I knew to be at least mildly discomforted by the knowledge of the two mens' relationship, had a lot of respect in his eyes in that moment.
	“You don't need to come either, Grant, you know,” I pointed out to the man, even knowing what he'd say.
	The Otherwolf just gave a determined smile.  “Shivah. . . where you go I go.”
	“Not if I tell you not to,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.
	“You're going to need my horse,” Grant pointed out.  “We'll make better time mounted.  At least until we get to the highest elevations.”
	“I could just take your horse,” I threatened, although I didn't mean a word of it.  I was just honestly uncertain how far I could push the man, and it was fun finding out.  
	“Helios won't budge without me at the reins,” the husky retorted, stubbornly.  “Besides, how would you stop me from following you after you left?”  
	“I could tie you up.”
	Grant paused, at that, looking uncertain.  “You'd do that. . . ?”
	“Okay,” the fox interrupted.  “As amusing as it is listening to you two engage in completely bizarre foreplay, we need to start talking about gearing up.  I don't believe for a second that Ransom took to the trail with any supplies, seeing as he left them all in Serahaven.  Which means he has, at most, his waterskin, his weapons, and whatever bits of trail rations he had on his person, and nothing else.” 
	“Gods,” I breathed, “his skin won't even last him the trip up. . . .”
	“He doesn't care,” Puck said, concern laden in every word, “he went up there to die.”
	Again, silence fell.  But this time, Puck broke it quickly, in an authorative tone.  “But we're not,” he said, “so we need to supply ourselves well, and bring enough for four, for when we find him.”
	“Five,” a deep, older voice spoke from behind us.  It startled the hell out of Puck and I, but when Grant's head snapped up and he looked over my shoulders, a smile split his muzzle.
	“Laesom!” the husky said in a somewhat relieved tone, standing and pulling out a chair.  “Good God, man. . . what are you doing here?  Are the men back in town?”
	The wolf moved around towards the husky and slowly sat down in the offered chair, gripping his knees as he did, and rubbing at one of them as he settled in.  The man had to be in his fifties. . . I was amazed he was as active with the Marshals as it was.
	“I'm afraid not,” the wolf said at length.  As usual, his tone was hard to read. . .he'd never displayed much in the way of emotions that I could see.  He just seemed to be a very mild-mannered, quiet man. . . but then I'd heard wolves, especially lone wolves, often were.
	“What are you doing here?”  Puck suddenly asked, and I didn't miss the suspicion in the fox's tone.
	“Aye,” Grant said, confused.  “Shouldn't you be back in Serahaven-”
	“Connall. . . relieved me of my duties,” the wolf stated, quietly.  “Permanently.”
	Grant's eyebrows shot up in alarm.  “He took you off the force?!”
	“I never had a badge,” Laesom stated, calmly.  “But he. . . made it clear that my skill set was. . . no longer of use to him.  He also got rid of Ethridge.  I got the distinct feeling his sudden disinterest in keeping us on may have had something to do with our. . . ancestry.”
	I blinked.  That's right. . . the mink.  He didn't speak Katuk, so we'd never spoken, but he often traveled with Laesom, likely by design.  Keep the non-Otherwolves together.
	I could almost feel Grant's disappointment and anger from across the table.  The husky sat down heavily, brows knitted, muzzle tipped down.
	“That rutting bastard,” he muttered, bitterly.  “The second I'm off the squad, he de-integrates it.”
	“It's just as well,” the wolf murmured, still almost irritatingly calm in tone.  “I only would have stayed in Serahaven long enough to ensure the town was safe, anyway, and he's bringing in men from the garrison for that.  I can't work under that man.”
	“So then what are you doing here?” Puck repeated, warily.  “And why were you listening in on us instead of just announcing your presence?”
	The wolf looked across the table to the fox, his golden eyes taking the small creature in for a moment, before he replied, “Believe it or not. . . of late, I've been having trust issues.”
	“I believe it,” both Grant and I muttered.
	“I trusted Magpie,” Laesom admitted, quietly.  “I still don't understand why he did what he did.  I just wanted to be sure you weren't all. . . also. . . .”
	I narrowed my eyes at the wolf.  “I would never work with that monster!”  
	“No, your current quest seems something else entirely,” the wolf murmured.  “And. . . I'd like to help.”
	“Why?”  I pressed.
	The wolf didn't respond for long enough, that I was about to be more demanding.  And then, at length, he did.
	“Because my mate,” he murmured, “was beaten nearly to death by men who thought he was an aberration.  His own countrymen.  His friends.  People who should have respected him for who he was. . . but couldn't.”  
	He looked up, slowly, and I saw his jaw tighten.  “And I. . . wanted to follow him, into the afterlife.  But he told me to stay here. . . do whatever good I still could with my time.  And I've been trying.”
	N o one said a word.  Puck looked sympathetic. . . Grant just looked shocked, his eyes unfocused, as if he was lost in thought, or a memory.  He must not have known.  And he'd been traveling with Laesom for quite a long while now, if what I understood was true.
	“I know if I were to help you find your mate,” Laesom said quietly, to Puck, “he. . . would be happy. . . that I helped two young people who walked the same path we once did.”
	I looked to Puquanah.  This decision fell on him, ultimately.  I wasn't entirely certain I trusted the wolf, and we'd had a lot of issues knowing who to trust, of late, but. . . .
	It was hard to doubt the pain in the wolf's voice.  It was the first time I'd ever heard any kind of emotion in him, and it sounded genuine.  I'd always thought the wolf's oddly subdued, mysterious demeanor was just a trait of wolves.  But the man's silence, his unsocial demeanor, the fact that he'd never once spoken about himself to me. . . or apparently even much to Grant, who really seemed to value his friendship. . . .
	A lifetime spent hiding something. . . .
	“. . . you have a horse, right?”  Puck asked, finally.  “Because we're going to need two.”