Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

20. The Shadow's Name

Kramola wasn't kidding when she promised to patrol the approaches. Her sentinels came running into the dig site with a report that Damir was returning four days later. Returning, after that speech! Returning, when Volya's four preceding days were filled with trial and error, hard manual labor and grudging bonding. Returning! That was rich...

Damir didn't wear a sheepish grin Volya had hoped to see. The guy surveyed the piles of dirt. Then his gaze traveled to the wide trench with shallow slopes that now went all the way to the rock wall. His face preserved his customary expression. Meaning, no expression. Despite the lack of accolades, Volya's chest swelled with pride. Nobody got trapped. Nobody died. They had a couple of close calls, but Damir didn't need to know that.

He was about to transform back to his human form and ask if he should send a search party for Damir's integrity, but Damir pre-emptied the quip with an unexpected move. He dropped his pack and rummaged through it like some vintage Disney cartoon character looking for a toy gavel or whatever.

What, not even, Sorry, I got you all worked up over nothing?

Apparently not, the mist-wolf said in such a way that Volya imagined his shaggy head tilt to one side. His moonlight-filled eyes would be set on Damir. Instinctively, Volya imitated his wolf's pose, and he was not alone.

Damir's activity was so frantic, that everyone dropped their buckets, shovels and picks to circle the prodigal archeologist. Scowls scrunched the faces. A snarl erupted from the back, then another one. He was more concerned than angry when Damir, still staunchly silent, armed himself with a toothbrush. The thing had definitely seen better days.

Okay, weird that dental hygiene was at the forefront of his mind in this specific situation, but okay...

However, that wasn't all.

Damir's other hand groped inside his pack for another thirty seconds or so, to emerge with a baby-enema in the size and shape of a large pear.

Instead of, You seem awfully sure we want you back, Volya squawked, "What on Earth—"

Crap, he was human now. Definitely human, because the sound that emerged from his throat wasn't a snarl. It was more than a little bit disturbing that he hadn't consciously initiated the transformation. He wanted to speak, so he had just... transformed. But right now, Damir was far more worrisome.

The guy regaled Volya, then the assembled Walkwe, with a wan smile. Shadows around his eyes were darkened by insomnia. That uncharacteristic smile, plus how Damir held the toothbrush and enema—as if he were a tzar and sovereign of all the Russia holding his scepter and orb—knitted Volya's brows tighter together.

"There is a glyph by the cave's entrance," Damir said.

"Aha," Volya replied. Aha wasn't a fitting tribute to the beauty of Russian language, but he was giving his 110% to pretending that he had an inkling of what was going on.

Damir wormed his way through the trench to the wall and put his weird toolset to use. Just a few brushstrokes and gentle pumps on the enema later, Volya spotted the emerging spiral on the stone.

"You gotta be kidding... the super-senses... the instinct..." Volya babbled.

Damir leaned a bit back to observe the results of his labors. "It doesn't take gods to fire pots," he said with some satisfaction. "Maybe I can't find a single cave in the hectares of ragged landscape, but some things... some things I have an eye for."

Volya's hackles raised as if Damir had just questioned his manhood. "No wonder we've missed it! We worried about a million things. Without our subject matter expert, I must add."