Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.
“Wounded bear?”
“Big, growly, snapping at anyone who tries to help.” She starts packing up her supplies, but her movements are less agitated now. “Though I suppose that’s fitting for a mercenary.”
“You’re not exactly the meek, grateful victim, either.”
“Good. Meek and grateful get you killed in these woods.” She glances at me sideways. “Besides, I can protect you as well. Now that I’m here, if anyone comes after you with wolfsbane, I will patch you right up.”
She sounds quite proud of that.
The idea that this girl thinks she can keep me in line should be insulting.
Instead, I find it oddly charming.
“We should get moving,” she says, looking around.
“Yes. We should.”
But neither of us moves, and I find myself wondering how so
