Lawrence rose early the next morning. He was like most merchants who awoke early in order to extract the most profit from the day. However, when he opened his eyes to the morning mist, Holo was already up, sitting next to him, and rummaging through something. For an instant Lawrence wondered if his estimation of her had been wrong, but if so, she was truly audacious. He raised his head and looked over his shoulder, and it appeared she had gone looking for clothes among his things and was just now tying her shoes.
“Hey, now! Those are mine!”
Even if it wasn’t actual theft, even a god shouldn’t be rummaging around through other people’s things.
Holo turned around at Lawrence’s rebuke, but there was not so much as a trace of guilt on her face. “Hm? Oh, you are awake. What think you of this? Does it look good?” she asked, completely unconcerned as she spread her arms. Far from chastened, she seemed actually proud. Seeing her like this made the uncertain, overwrought Holo of yesterday seem like something out of a dream. Indeed it seemed that the real Holo, the one he’d have to contend with from here on out, was this impudent, prancing thing.
Incidentally, the clothes she now wore were Lawrence’s best, the one outfit he reserved for negotiations with rich traders and the like. The top was an indigo blue shirt underneath a three-quarters-length vest. The trousers were a rare combination of linen and leather, with a skirt that wrapped fully around her lower body, tied with a fine sheepskin sash. The boots were a rare prize, made of tanned leather and triple-layered, good even in the snowy mountains. Over all this she wore a bearskin greatcoat.
Merchants take pride in their practical, dignified clothing. To buy these Lawrence had saved gradually beginning in his apprenticeship—it had taken him ten years. If he showed up to a negotiation wearing these with a nicely groomed beard, he would have most people at a disadvantage.
And Holo now wore those garments.
He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with her, though.
All the clothes were clearly too big for her, which made it all the more charming.
“The greatcoat is black—my brown hair looks lovely against it, eh? These trousers, though—they get in the way of my tail. Might I put a hole in them?”
The trousers she spoke of so lightly had been made by a master craftsman only after significant effort on Lawrence’s part. A hole would likely prove impossible to repair. He shook his head resolutely.
“Hrm. Well, fortunately they’re still large. I’ll find a way to make them work.”
Holo seemed not to harbor the faintest concern that she would be asked to take the clothes off. Lawrence didn’t think she was likely to run away while wearing them, but nevertheless he rose and regarded her. If she were to go a city and sell them, they would fetch a tidy amount of gold.
“You’re a merchant through and through, that’s sure enough. I know just what you anticipate with that expression on your face,” said Holo, smiling. She jumped lightly down from the wagon.
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Her movement was so unassuming and natural that he had no reaction. If she’d run just then, he would have been unable to pursue.
Or perhaps he didn’t react because he didn’t believe she would run.
“I’ll not run. If that had been my aim, I’d have gone long since.”
Lawrence glanced at the wheat sheaf in the wagon bed, then looked back at the smiling Holo. She took the bearskin cloak off and tossed it back in the wagon; evidently the cloak, which had been made for Lawrence’s height, was too big for her. She was even smaller than he’d realized yesterday, having seen her only in the dim moonlight. Lawrence was on the tall side, but even so she was fully two heads shorter than him.
Then, as she verified the fit of the rest of the clothes, she spoke offhandedly. “So, I wish to travel with you. May I?”
She smiled but did not seem to flatter. If she’d tried to flatter him, Lawrence felt there might have been reason to refuse her, but she simply smiled happily.
Lawrence sighed.
She didn’t seem to be a thief, at least. He couldn’t let his guard down, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her come along. And sending her away would only make the constant loneliness harder to bear.
“This must be some kind of fate. Very well,” Lawrence said.
Holo did not appear especially overjoyed—she merely smiled.
“You’ll have to earn your keep, though. The life of a merchant isn’t easy. I expect the god of abundant harvests to bring an abundant harvest to my coin purse.”
“I’m not so shameless as to thoughtlessly freeload. I’m Holo the Wisewolf, and I have my pride,” said Holo sullenly. Lawrence was not so blind as to think she wasn’t making a show of childish indignation, though.
Sure enough, Holo chuckled. “Though this proud wolf made a bit of a spectacle of herself yesterday,” she said self-deprecatingly, as if her flustered demeanor reflected her true feelings. “In any case, it is good to meet you…er…”
“Lawrence. Kraft Lawrence. When I’m working I go by Lawrence.”
“Mm. Lawrence. I shall sing your praises for all eternity,” said Holo with chest thrust forward, her wolf ears pricking up proudly. She seemed oddly serious. It was difficult to tell if she was being childish or cunning. She was like the ever-changing mountain weather.
Apparently that ever-changing mood was part of her craftiness. Lawrence hastily revised his opinion and offered his hand from the wagon bed. It was the proof that he’d truly acknowledged her presence as a companion.
Holo smiled and took his hand.
Her hand was small and warm.
“At any rate, it will soon rain. We should make haste.”
“Wha…? You should have said so sooner!” exclaimed Lawrence—loudly enough to startle the horse. The previous night hadn’t brought so much as a hint of rain, but looking up at the sky he could indeed see clouds beginning to gather. Holo chuckled at him as he hurriedly made preparations to depart. She scampered on board the wagon, and it was obvious enough from the ease with which she rearranged the slept-in furs that she would be more handy than some fresh-faced apprentice child.
“The river is in a foul temper. ’Twould be best to cross a short distance from here.”
After Lawrence roused the horse, collected the bucket, and took the reins in hand, Holo joined him in the driver’s seat.
It was too big for one person, but slightly too small for two.
But to ward off the chill, too small was just right.
With the neigh of a horse, the pair’s strange travels had begun.