Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Caine: Inane Argument

CAINE

The warlock is an annoying companion on a long drive, but his ability to track the girl’s presence is little short of miraculous.

"I’m telling you," Jack-Eye says, gesturing wildly in the cramped backseat at Thom, "a woolly mammoth would absolutely destroy an elephant in combat. Thicker fur, larger tusks—built for the ice age, man."

Thom shakes his head. His glasses slip down his nose, and he pushes them back with trembling fingers. "Elephants have superior intelligence and agility. African bull elephants can weigh up to seven tons and reach nearly thirteen feet. Your mammoth would be too slow."

"Too slow? Are we forgetting they hunted in packs?" Jack-Eye counters.

This conversation has lasted at least the last thirty miles. It started, oddly enough, with a conversation about chickens.

"We’re discussing a one-on-one arena battle," Thom says, voice steady despite his physical weakness. "Not a pack hunt."

Their absurdity grates on my nerves, and I clutch the steering wheel harder. "How much longer?" I ask, interrupting their inane debate without guilt.

"Three point seven miles, still in the same location," Thom answers, not missing a beat.

"Even without the pack there—"

"This entire discussion is idiotic," I say through gritted teeth. "Woolly mammoths are extinct."

Fenris’s voice is a low grumble. They’re just trying to pass the time. Not everyone broods in silence like you.

I don’t brood. I contemplate.

Four hours of contemplating how to approach the girl doesn’t count as brooding?

I ignore him, focusing on the road signs flashing past in the darkness. Three point seven miles. There’s a tug in my chest, almost a whisper of premonition telling me I’m close. The distance between us has become physical pain—like someone slowly peeling back layers of skin.

"How about now?" I ask.

Thom sighs. "Same as thirty seconds ago, Your Majesty. The girl hasn’t moved. She’s been stationary for hours."

"And the interference?"

"Still present."

My fingers tap against the steering wheel. "Is she in danger?" I’ve asked this a hundred times, at least.

"I don’t believe so. It isn’t malevolent, but it’s impossible to tell for certain."

Jack-Eye leans forward, grabbing onto my headrest. "What do you think, boss? I still say the mammoth—"

"Shut up," I growl. "Your hypothetical fight between extinct creatures and modern elephants is beyond asinine."

Silence fills the car. I feel a slight pang of regret—not for silencing them, but for revealing how tightly wound I am. A king should never appear desperate, even when he is.

You are desperate, Fenris chides. Admit it.

You should care more, Fenris murmurs. Magic users are rare. Breaking this one won’t serve you. They’re weak, but they can be useful. His talent is a good one to keep around.

I scoff. My wolf acts as if I’ve done something terrible. I didn’t break him. He’s doing his job.

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