Faol lifted a hand to the grey fur, just the barest tip of his finger. He kept his claws well away. “This wolf died of natural causes,” he said softly. “In captivity, waiting for humans to somehow find a way to bring its habitat back.” His hand dropped to his side, fist clenched, claws out. “The last wolf in the wild died half a century ago.”

“Forgive me,” Orfeus said, resigned. She dipped a little bow. “Of course you know a lot about wolves, you egomaniac.”

Faol scowled dark and brooding. “That’s not why…” he said and then shook his head. Waved his hand in disgust. He turned without any more explanation and prowled into the next room, which Orfeus couldn’t see into unless she craned her head too obviously.

At least in the visible area there were no bear traps or spike pits, so it was probably safe to stop confining her animal so much. Orfeus bent closer to the ground and carefully released Splodge. Splodge, being a cat, did not go along with this plan, jumping lithely from her arms and onto the ground before she bent halfway down. The cat walked around sniffing at things.

Faol returned, silent and gruff, and put a bowl of water on the ground. He placed another bowl beside it, empty for now. Then he stretched silently, and pulled off his armour, one piece at a time, unlatching it and tossing it to the side. Orfeus watched thoughtfully, as Splodge went and sniffed at the water.

Faolan was not tall, but held so much tension in that burly back that Orfeus was surprised something hadn’t snapped. Aside from her armour, there was little in the room that would look out of place a thousand years ago. Faolan would look most herself draped in furs or hide armour, like something from the fairy-tale age of woods and wolves and wells.

Faolan turned and caught her staring. Orfeus met his eyes, chin up and lips pressed together, offering no defence. Faol shrugged as if restless and said, “That’s not what we mean by watching someone’s back.”

“Mm-hmm,” Orfeus said. She looked at the bowls on the ground a little doubtfully. Faolan had not outright offered —merely assumed, merely bulled her way through and expected Orfeus to follow. Of course Faol did kindnesses gruffly and without room for negotiation. “I appreciate it, Wolfy, truly I do, but I’m having trouble debating myself into trusting you with any animal.”

Faolan cocked his head. “Explain?”

“You kill things,” Orfeus said patiently. “For fun, as far as I know. You eat meat. You practically live for meat!”