Page 13 of Poet & Protector

Nev’s clearing

Monday afternoon

MASON

The map Neville drew was detailed and easy to follow, but the place he wanted to meet was hardly convenient. I ran from my house in the Nightshade compound for miles until I was deep in the forest southwest of Vail. When I closed in on the location Neville had marked on the map, I slowed, lowering my muzzle to test the air and sniff the earth. His scent was fresh. He’d beaten me here, but not by much.

I paused outside a thicket of pine trees. He was waiting on the other side, but I stopped and sat on my haunches. Annoyance and trepidation nipped at me.

What was this meeting going to be like? Would we stick to our assignment and ignore everything else?

Neville and I had seen each other at the Bunker multiple times since my first visit, but we’d never talked there. We barely acknowledged each other outside of occasionally making brief eye contact.

Was I supposed to pretend that wasn’t a part of our lives? It was huge that we were queer Guardians who knew the other existed. Tom said that at the Bunker we were all supposed to be friends, but at school Neville and I were rivals. I didn’t know if that should change when we weren’t with our packs. It would certainly make working together easier if we could get along.

Should I offer him an olive branch of some kind? What would that even look like?

I was still mulling my options when Neville’s voice pierced the barrier of branches and pine needles that separated us.

“Are you lost, Mason? Because I’m right here.”

Bristling, I remained in my wolf form and pushed my way forward. I’d planned to snarl at him for his snarky comment, but I was so startled by my new surroundings I could only stop and stare.

Neville’s map indicated that we’d meet in some kind of clearing, but the map only showed a circle with an x in the middle and nothing else. The blank space was a strange contrast to the detailed directions Neville included everywhere else.

I’d caught the sound of rushing water as I approached the meeting site but hadn’t paid much attention to it. An abundance of brooks, streams, and creeks were found in the mountains around Vail.

At the far end of the clearing two narrow ribbons of clear water tumbled down a steep slope. Sunshine glinted on the water’s surface, beneath which smooth stones in a variety of hues subtly reflected the light. The twin streams joined at the base of the slope, forming a small pool.

Neville sat on a fallen tree trunk on one side of the pool. A notebook was open in his lap and he clasped a pen in his fingers. Some of the sunlight dappling the clearing played over him as a light wind blew and for the first time, I noticed his dark brown hair was shot through with threads of the deepest copper.

I approached slowly, ears flicking back and forth. The beauty of the place, the invigorating scent of sharp pine juxtaposed with soothing, cool water, and the steady, tinkling duets of the streams entranced me.

When I didn’t shift forms, Neville frowned at me.

Blinking a few times, I shook my ruff to clear the dreamy sensation from my head and then shifted, though I stayed in a crouch.

“How did you find this place?” I asked.

Neville took so long to reply, I thought he wasn’t going to, but then he spoke.

“I wander a lot.”

Some answer.

“It’s nice,” I told him.

He nodded.

I rose from my crouch and approached him. Since he didn’t offer an invitation, I gestured to the log.

“Can I sit?”

“If you want.”

No, I’d really enjoy standing here for an hour, Neville. I bit back the response, straddled the log, and sat a couple of feet away from him.

He studied me as I opened my bag and pulled out the poetry anthology we were using in class and a notebook.