The next morning brought a surprise.
I woke up to the smell of coffee. Which was impossible, because we were on the top of a ruined watchtower on a mountain peak with no electricity and definitely no barista.
I sat up, blinking against the pale winter light.
Sitting on a flat rock near the entrance of the tower was a small creature. It was about two feet tall, wearing a waistcoat made of woven moss and a hat that looked suspiciously like an overturned foxglove flower. It was brewing coffee in a tiny copper pot suspended over the embers of our fire.
I looked over at Adrien.
Adrien was still asleep, his arm thrown over his eyes. Some wolf he was, I thought with a big smile. He's sleeping through this. The legendary predator, the guardian of the city, and he didn't hear the moss-man maki
