36
WOLFE
Wolfe is out of his armor. He’s been creeping along the riverbank.
He aches, and drags his knuckles, and hates adventuring.
This is what a real hero must look like, he tells himself. The knights sketched in his books are only drawings, anyway.
He’s fallen into the mud more than once. Every inch of him is dry and dusty and brown.
He smells like the sodden earth, like the countryside. Like a damn Yurkite.
He’s been muttering to himself. Now, he hears a new voice. A gasp and a growl.
Through the trees, he sees something he shouldn’t.
A girl. And he recognizes her:
Teeth that gnash wild, blue-ticked beasts. Arms that let straight arrows. Everyone’s favorite in the tavern.
Cody.
He’s seen her name, her name, written over and over in the bookie’s ledger. Bets are s
