Red, The Wolf

Part 10: The Thaumaturge

"Stop where you are!" said the foremost lawman, even though Justin hadn't yet made his move. "You're under arrest for the trafficking of stolen goods!"

Justin looked around. The fascinated crowd was growing thicker by the minute. One by one, all his avenues of escape were being cut off, as the constables were nearly within arm's reach. Justin made his choice. Dropping the leashes, he aimed a swift kick at Rascal's fluffy behind and shouted, "RUN!"

Rascal took off like a shot, with Red following close behind--not because she'd been commanded to, mind, but because the white wolf happened to be headed straight for the most available path of egress.

Everyone was so wrapped up in seeing the slippery criminal get arrested that no one paid attention to the two muzzled animals racing together. Rascal ducked around wagons and between legs in the crowded streets. Red followed, lengthening her stride till she was neck-and-neck with him. Her shoulder screamed for mercy, but Red focused on her goal. She needed the mutt, just until she could be human again.

Red kept pace with Rascal until he veered off-course, headed for the front gate of the city instead of down toward the apothecary. The moment he did, she surged alongside him and lunged for the leash, catching her paw in the loop on the end and stopping short.

Rascal flipped head-over-hindquarters at the sudden jerk on his neck. He tugged and pulled against her, but Red stood firm and held fast, stepping on the leash with her uninjured paw for good measure. When Rascal finally stopped tugging and looked at her with a flurry of pitiful whines, Red gave a low growl and snarled at him.

Let go! Master said run! he whimpered.

I am in charge. I am your master! Do as I say, she snapped, combining her human sensibilities with her wolfish communication. She maintained her grip on the leash as she bent down, getting her paw up behind her head and scraping forward until she could wriggle the muzzle's straps over her ears. Justin had been putting them on for show, anyway, as a reassurance for the humans, so it wasn't actually very tight. Now that her mouth was free, Red could grip the leash in her mouth, putting Rascal entirely at her mercy.

Rascal understood, and he stopped fighting. He allowed Red to lead him backdown the road they should have gone down, sniffing all the way until her nose caught the scent of thread and cloth--the smell of Deborah Garrity's rag-bag, which she often let Red curl up and sleep in as a tiny pup. Red blinked away the nostalgic memory and focused on making her way to where the scent came strongest. Truegood Millinery, the shingle proclaimed. Red paused in the alleyway behind the shop to scent the air again, this time looking for the yeasty aroma of bread and flour. They were within sight of the building when Rascal's tail began to wag in a most unseeming manner for a wolf. Red rolled her eyes as she realized it had taken him this long to finally smell where they were going.

Rascal whimpered at her again, this time pulling her toward the bakery faster than Red's injured leg could keep up.

Hungry, his pleas proclaimed. Food want now!

Red lifted her lip and snarled, tugging on the leash to get him away from the pile of waste beside the back door. I'm still in charge, she asserted. Keep moving!

She paused beside the bakery, scanning every inch of her surroundings to find the apothecary. Across the street and sandwiched between a tavern and a general store was a small shop front with a narrow door and a single window. There wasn't even room for a shingle or a sign like the others had. Rather, the apothecary identified herself by a simple etching of a mortar and pestle over the door.

Red gave Rascal's leash a tug, and the two wolves trotted across the road and into the apothecary's shop.

Inside the tiny shop, small shelves filled with little bottles and boxes of every shape filled the walls. In one sniff, Red detected the apothecary herself. She stood behind a wide counter, weighing out herbs into a small jar. Red felt Rascal twitch, and felt the small tug that told her that he was in the mood to run straight out of there at the next available opportunity. She couldn't drop the leash, for fear he might escape--but then how would she get the woman's attention?