Rolf
I waited at the foot of the bed. Whenever I laid my head down, a noise from the forest made me raise it again. I did not like these woods, full of eldritch smells and sounds, made by creatures no man had seen.
The woman slept fitfully, twitching and coughing at intervals. At one point, I put my paws on the bed. If she were a pup, I’d fetch her a deer and feed her the good, raw offal, splintering the bones to give her the marrow. Then I’d lick her face and let her sleep curled against my heavy, furry body.
She smelled like the herb of her name, along with the scent of honey and sunshine. Her hands gripped the coverlet and her lips moved a little as she slept.
“Willow,” she said aloud, and her eyes snapped open.
I rose to my feet as she rose up, muttering. She swung off the bed and
