But she was interested in the unfamiliar.
She sniffed the cup again. “And what’s this about?” she asked.
“Well, there are four humors in the body and four temperaments.”
“Oh?”
“The four humors are blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm,” he explained proudly, counting them off on his fingers, but she believed not a word of it.
Still, she kept quiet and listened.
“Sickness happens when these humors fall out of balance – when you’re fatigued or breathe bad air or sometimes when the movements of the stars influence them.”
“Hmm. Aye, I understand that.” She smiled faintly. “When the full moon comes out and my body tingles and throbs, say.” She drew her chin in and looked up at her companion, who she could easily tell was suddenly flustered.
Goodness, but he was so naive for a male.
“A-ah, yes, well, there is that, too. Just like the tides. So then, when the humors become unbalanced, you need to rebalance them by bleeding and the like.”
“… Humans have the strangest notions.”
“If you have a blister or boil, you lance it, do you not?”
“Wha–!” She looked up at her companion, shocked.
He grinned, at which she cursed her lapse.
“Humans do, which heals them. Sounds nice, eh?”
She turned away from him, ignoring his discussion of these savage methods.
“That’s one way of restoring balance, but it must be performed by a doctor. But if they saw your ears and tail, who knows what mad disease they’d think you have, and what a fuss that would cause. So we can’t see a doctor. We’ll just have to cure you another way – by using the four temperaments.”
She flicked her ears up and glanced at him with one eye. “And by that you mean delight, rage, sorrow, pleasure – all the emotions, right?”
“Close, but not quite. The human body has four temperaments: hot, cold, dry, and wet.”
Taking a drink of the mostly flavorless apple wine, she examined the palm of her hand.
What he was saying was so obvious, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was being made sport of.
“Also, you can affect those states with what you eat – because there are hot foods, cold foods, dry foods, and wet foods. Since you were hot, something cold – like an apple – is just right.”
Or one could just say that humans were very good at ascribing meanings to things.
That was one thing she could assert to, having watched so many human lives over the ages.
If anything, she had to admit she was impressed at how they could imagine all sorts of interesting things, hopping from one to the next.
“Well, if that’s the case, I would’ve preferred a simple raw apple.”
“No, that’s no good. Apples are cold, but medicinally speaking they’re also dry. People who’re feeling poorly are already overdry, so you have to reverse that. And for that, you need a drink.”
So that was why she’d been served this unpleasant colored water.
Whether her companion had just learned this or had relied on it for a long time, he was explaining it so proudly that trying to tell him it was all meaningless would itself be meaningless. While humans were all of a species, different nations had entirely different ways of doing things – that much she knew.
So she had to admit it was not surprising that when it came to humans and wolves, the things they believed would be so different – and so she gave in.
“And so do you plan on making me eat anything else?”
“Yes, because you collapsed from exhaustion. Since you had a fever from the accumulated fatigue, first we had to cool you. Next, your body is too dry, so we need to replenish its moisture. When you run, you get thirsty, right? But moistening the body also cools it, and if you become too cool, you’ll turn melancholy, so we must then warm you. Then…”
As he blithely continued, she sighed at having once shallowly looked forward to playing the patient.
But listening to her companion go on, she realized that sigh, too, might be hasty.
“So then, yes. We’ll take some porridge made with grain and sheep’s milk, add some sliced apples, and top it with cheese. Now with this, first the apples–”
“Aye, that will do. I’d like to eat that. Nay, I fear I’ll faint again if I don’t. Do you want to see? See how pale I look. Hurry, you – go and bring it!”
She could hardly stop her stomach from growling at the prospect of such delicious-sounding porridge.
Even now, a drop of drool threatened to spill from the corner of her mouth.
“… You’re perfectly well again, aren’t you?”
“Ooh, I’m so dizzy…”
Dizziness would never come at so convenient a time, but her companion was too softhearted not to reach out and steady her when she swayed and threatened to drop the cup.
She snuggled into his arm, then looked up coquettishly. “Hurry and fetch it, will you?”
Perhaps her face was a bit too close; her companion turned instantly red.
It was hard to tell who was truly the ill one.
However, she was starting to wonder if the queer human way of letting blood out of the body wasn’t rather wise after all.
“Honestly… well, are you done with the apple wine?”
“Mm, yes, well, I think I’ve had enough,” she said, taking the cup again and having a sip.
Her companion had gone to the trouble of preparing it for her, after all.
She would’ve felt bad if she’d refused the drink simply because it tasted bad.
“And make it a big serving of porridge, too,” she said, to which her companion seemed to have nothing to say in reply.
She honestly didn’t know how long she waited.
In any case, he didn’t return immediately, and once she snuggled back under the blankets, she fell right asleep. She awoke only because her nose was tickled by a scent tempting enough to rouse her.
However, she did not feel well – not because of her physical condition, but rather because she’d had a bad dream.
It was of her homelands. And of the wheat fields.
The dream brought homesickness, yes, but also terrible disgust.
It was about a time when, as a being who stood above many others, she had to assume responsibility for them.
The world was the forest, and if the soil was not strong, trees would not grow. So the Wisewolf of Yoitsu had to be its foundation, strong and true. If she abandoned that duty, the forest would quickly wither.
It was not a favor asked of her; it was simply a responsibility that someone had to shoulder.
Then she realized that around her neck was a heavy, heavy shackle.
She wasn’t sure since when it had been there – perhaps since her birth.
She was different from her surroundings.
Even if she assumed human form, they would always know she was different – grotesque.
She was relied on for her strength, feared for her size, prized for her usefulness.
She and her kind thought it natural to serve in this capacity, and so they did.
They were all of one mind that there was merit for them in doing so.
But the worshipers required majesty of their gods, in addition to favor. If the objects of their worship were meager, after all, how could they expect those gods to be able to bestow blessings?
Though she had never asked to be worshiped, she was unable to abandon these worshipers and was thus trapped.
Without anyone to worship, they would fade with the seasons, lost to fear, madness, and cruelty.
She knew it was foolish, but no matter how she suffered, she couldn’t abandon them.
She’d never asked for this and never been asked, and yet – centuries passed.
Something smelled delicious; she was accustomed to smelling tasty foods.
But while her nose twitched at such things, she knew she would never be shown a wel
coming smile.
Not even from someone cheeky who didn’t know his place.
“Can you sit up?”
Her body had been gradually recovering, and now she had little difficulty in crawling out from under the blankets.
Nonetheless, she shook her head, her eyes still heavy with drowsiness.
The prison was long in the past.
She’d been able to make her long-held dream into reality.
To dance and play like a cub. To be selfish, to be powerless.
And to be protected by someone.
“Honestly – if I ever fall ill, I expect you to return the favor.”
Having just woken and being still mostly exhausted, she must’ve looked like a cat dragged from its favorite sleeping spot.
It was embarrassing, but having done it once, she couldn’t stop.
“Aye, so long as you don’t mind treatment in the style of the wolves of Yoitsu.” She grinned to hide her self-reproach.
In any case, her companion’s face twitched, but she was quite sure that if he asked about that treatment, he would be very happy with the answer.
It involved a lot of licking and snuggling.
However, she was not so kind as to tell him without being asked.
“Ah, ’tis well. My nose is very keen – I’ll know long before you turn this poorly and do something about it.”
After saying this, she thought about adding something about not chatting happily away with some other female while not noticing him until he collapsed but decided against it.
Happily – yes, he had looked very happy, but her companion knew what his job was.
And in that moment, chatting nicely with the girl had been his job.
So he said, and she believed him.
“Still, I’m sorry I didn’t notice. But I wish you’d have said something. In any case, yes – I’m rather thick,” said her companion, shrugging.
“You surely are. I might have a much more serious sickness, and you’d doubtless still fail to notice.”
“Huh?” He looked at her questioningly, but she would not explain.
He was too thick to make the connections.
She was lovesick.
But she knew it would be a long time before he noticed it.
“’Tis nothing. Never mind. Now food!” she said, which her companion childishly frowned at.
Humans judged things based on their appearances.
Being bested by someone who appeared to be a young human girl was frustrating.
It was a complicated emotion but not uncomfortable.
Even in the book of scriptures that circulated around the world, there was the satirical story of God dressing in rags and walking the roads, thereby losing all sense of formality and ceremony.
“You’re quite the princess this morning,” he grumbled, but nonetheless he removed the lid from the pot of porridge and picked up a dish.
No knight would ever speak so rudely to a princess.
She grinned. “Would you kindly spoon-feed me?” she asked by way of presuming on him.
Her companion froze, stricken – a face too pathetic by far to ever be suitable for a knight.
“’Twould have been better with more apples.”
“Likely. Cold apples increase one’s melancholy.”
“Are you… mph… are you saying I’m too cheerful?” she said as he brought the last bite to her mouth.
She’d had two full bowls’ worth.
The first few, probably thanks to his embarrassment, had been a bit wobbly and sloppy, but either he turned serious or got used to it, and she’d been able to enjoy the last half of the meal very comfortably.
Being able to eat just by opening her mouth and waiting made her feel like a baby chick.
It would be nice to be able to have her grooming done this way, too, but her tail was too precious to entrust to anyone else.
She burped quietly, which her companion furrowed his brows at a bit.
“Also, recall how many apples I ate earlier in town.”
“Ah, yes! You couldn’t even finish them, so that’s why you turned so melancholy.”
“Mm.”
It occurred to her that he was quite right, but not because of the apple’s flavor or essence or any such nonsense, but simply because she’d bought too many.
“I don’t want to eat any more apples for a while,” said her companion.
She’d claimed she would be able to eat them all, but in the end he’d had to help.
However, she’d learned that eating with company was much more pleasant than eating alone – not that she would ever say so.
“Still, if you can eat this much, you’re on the mend. Tomorrow or the next day you should be well again,” said her companion as he gathered up the dish and pot. “Not that there’s any need to rush. We’ll be on the wagon again for quite some time once we leave. Might as well rest up.”
He was too softhearted to recognize a lie as a lie.
No – it was more that he was so trusting that he would never suspect her of lying.
Feelings of guilt welled up in her chest, but when she looked up and met his eyes, her breath caught.
Those worried eyes of his.
This was not good at all.
“… I’m sorry to have… delayed our travel,” she said when she realized this.
She couldn’t let this opportunity escape.
“I gave up on hurrying when I picked you up. And they say hard times make for stronger foundations, don’t they? I regained my good credit in this town, and it’s probably better than it ever was. When I think about that profit, what’s two or three more days?”
She would have to thank that god of fortune the humans were always worshiping, she thought to herself, that she had been picked up by such a softhearted fool.
Softhearted, softhearted – When she wasn’t saying it with a scornful sneer, it turned into a different name entirely, which was terrifying.
She wanted him to stay with her.
Just watching him as he gathered the dishes and began to head for the door to return them to the inn, her tail swished restlessly.
“Still, you–”
“Hmm?” he said, with eyes so sincerely naive she could barely stand to look at them.
“The inn’s just… too quiet, so…” Embarrassment kept her from finishing the sentence.
But her companion no doubt thought it was all an act.
And at the same time, he had surely guessed that though it was an act, it was also the truth.
“It’s true, sleeping on the cart is much noisier. Anyway, I’ve nothing to do today. And I’ve got to consult on the evening menu for a certain big eater I know, so…”
So he’d stay with her.
She was being as selfish as a child.
Her companion smiled, and she made a deliberately pouting face, turning away.
It was an unobstructed, unclouded exchange.
If happiness had a form, this might well have been it.
“So, have you any rough preferences? I’ll look up the details in the medicine book later, but once the market closes, I won’t be able to buy ingredients.”
“Mm. Hmm…”
“You seem well. You might not be completely better, though, so heavy things are right out.”
“Meat, too?” She looked up pitifully.
This was an act.
“Certainly not. Porridge or soup made from boiled bread…”
“Hmph. Well, then, more of that – what was it, sheep’s milk?” she said, indicating the dishes that her companion held. He nodded. “I liked its sweet scent and thick flavor. It will do.”
“Sheep’s milk, eh…?”
“Is there some problem?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“It spoils quickly, so good-quality milk can be hard to find in the afternoon. You’ll want it fresh, yes?”
“Naturally.” She grinned, baring her fangs, at which he slumped.
“Well, perhap
s I’ll have Norah get it for me again. Being a shepherd, she’s got an eye for that kind of…”
He held back from finishing the sentence.
“Did you say Norah?” she shot back reflexively – so reflexively that she didn’t know what sort of face she was making.
Her companion’s expression made it clear he had realized he’d uttered a taboo word, so she must have made some kind of face.
The pleasant atmosphere was long gone.
At his mention of Norah’s having an eye for sheep, she realized that while she slept, her companion had been walking around the town with that shepherdess.
That hated shepherdess.
Just the two of them.
While she slept!
“No, it… it was for you. I needed to get good milk, so I thought–”
“If you’d just spend the money, you don’t need a damned eye for sheep,” she growled, glaring resentfully at him.
Traitor, traitor, traitor! She cried the word out in her heart.
Though she knew he’d done nothing to earn her ire, he should’ve known better than to mention the shepherdess in such a moment, and so she could not help herself.
Shepherds and wolves were bitter enemies, after all.
“Su-surely there’s no reason not to hire her as a guide. And anyway–” He clearly knew he’d stumbled upon a huge problem and was hastily trying to smooth things over. But in the throes of her irrational anger, such smoothing only served to heighten her suspicion. And to top it all off, he kept going. “And anyway, why do you hate Norah so much?”
Time froze.
In trying to appease her snarling anger, he’d said something so unexpected that she couldn’t respond.
Her mouth dropped open. “Wh-what did you say?” she answered stupidly.
“W-well, I… I mean, I don’t know what happened between you and shepherds in the past, but I understand that you’re a wolf and you just don’t like them. But that doesn’t mean you have to hate her so much. I mean, Norah’s a shepherdess, but well…” Still holding the bowl and dish in both hands, he carefully scratched his head. “… She’s so sweet – surely there’s an exception to every rule.”
“Fool!” she very nearly shouted.
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