Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 1891

A statuesque Wolverine, standing there, gazed at Estelle with a pair of bewildered eyes.

Rising to her feet, Estelle gripped a knife in her hand, locking gaze with the Wolverine in the darkness. Her expression was serene, a silent pact that as long as the Wolverine didn't provoke her, she wouldn't harm it either.

Sensing no ill intent from Estelle, the Wolverine let out a grunt and settled itself onto the ground.

Estelle followed suit and sat down.

In the darkness, human and beast sat facing each other.

The Wolverine kept its eyes on Estelle, looking somewhat displeased, yet it didn't attack.

Estelle felt something was amiss, her mind raced, and then it clicked. She pointed at the straw on the ground and asked, “Is this yours?”

After a pause, she added, “Do you understand me? If not, we can converse in another language.”

It seemed the Wolverine got the gist as it snorted through its nose in a gesture that felt like it was saying, “You finally get it.”

Estelle couldn’t help but chuckle. Aren't bears supposed to live in tree hollows? What's with the straw bedding? And here she was, unwittingly squatting in a bear's den.

She was about to stand and relinquish the spot to the Wolverine when she noticed it eyeing a sandwich wrapper on the ground.

With a twinkling eye, Estelle reached into her bag and pulled out a slice of it, offering it forward, “Fancy a bite?”

The Wolverine, seated on the ground, grinned with a hearty laugh.

“Well then, let's make a deal,” Estelle proposed merrily. “I'll give you this one, and you let me crash here for the night.”

The Wolverine nodded in agreement.

Estelle sighed in relief, amused by its cleverness.

Unwrapping the dessert, she placed the tiramisu before the creature.

Estelle exited the vehicle, shouldering her bag and making the trek by foot.

In less than thirty minutes, she reached a quaint town with sparse activity – just a couple of convenience stores, a gas station, and two motels.

Estelle headed straight for the nearest store.

Outside, a few locals lounged about. Among them, a solo female traveler – clearly a compatriot – was scarfing down food with her backpack seated beside her.

Behind her, a group of men leered in her direction, their demeanors slack and suggestive.

Sitting by the window was the store's owner, basking in the sun with his sandy hair and a paunch proudly on display.

Parked curbside was a blue Cullinan, its occupants obscured from view.

Estelle took in the scene with a swift glance and continued towards the convenience store with an unhurried pace.