Chapter 13: Ch. 13

“Shake that ass. Show me what you’re working with,” Shiloh sang under her breath.

The broad pair of shoulders in front of her tightened before the man let out a titanic sigh and forced them to lower.

“Pour. Some. Sugar on meeee,” she crooned, smiling beatifically when the man clenched back up again.

It turned out, not leading the group was awesome. She got to annoy Wade and wolf whistle whenever he bent down to look at tracks. Even better, she just gave directions. Wade was in the lead and Jasque behind so they could ‘guard the civilian.’ Without being the trail breaker, she had plenty of attention left over to entertain herself.

The Were had a strange silvery weapon thing in his hand. Though he pulled it in and out of its case more often than seemed reasonable. When she asked why, he said that having a weapon ready to go was important; a lot of people died by being a second too slow.

Which was further reason why she was safely in the middle. At first, she had tried maneuvering the group to take advantages of the wind. But they seemed confused when she kept changing their heading after consulting elevation maps, looking for rivers, and asking about the weather.

“Are you lost?” Wade has asked, seeming a bit annoyed.

She didn’t like his tone. Admittedly, his tone might be tight because she has been singing stripper songs at very unpredictable intervals after learning that he had an enchanted get-naked-fast belt, but still.

“I am not lost. I’m a cartographer and a guide. I’m keeping track of the sun and all the other factors to make sure we’re downwind as much as possible.”

“Downwind? Of what?”

“The glade we’re going to. I assumed you were taking lead so you could smell if any threats were coming.”

He just blinked at her, “No, not really.”

“Then why are you in the lead?”

“Jasque is a better shot with his rifle. He can aim around me. Plus, I’ve got the heaviest caliber weapon, but the range isn’t good.”

“So you’re not like,” she waved at her nose, “using Were senses?”

“I mean, a little. It’s hard not to scent the woods, and it’s good early warning, but no. That’s Jasque’s job.”

She must have made a face because he laughed. It was a good laugh. His voice was full and occasionally dipped into the ranges where she would call if ‘deep’. But when he laughed he had an eye crinkling smile, and the sound seemed to rumble up from t the bottom of his boots.

“Don’t worry. It’s impossible to sneak up on Jasque.”

“When you say ‘impossible’…”

“I mean magically impossible, not practically. He’s got good senses.”

“Like a wild talent?”

“Yup,” Jasque said.

“Lucky,” she said. The lie was so well rehearsed that she spoke teh next bit without even having to think, ”I wish I could develop a wild talent.”

“Yeah,” said Wade. “Me too. Seems pretty sweet.”

“I don’t know,“ Jasque said, smiling his shark-in-sheep’s-clothing smile, “the good ones can be great. But you could end up with something bogus.”

Shiloh, shook her head and focused on inhabiting the character she was playing. She was a free-lancer who worked hard but never had enough money. She had never traveled much outside of North Carolina, though she read enough to talk about other places. Most importantly, she was not powerful. She was no victim, but not powerful.

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That was important. Looking like a victim was dangerous in day-to-day life. That was how you got mugged in an ally. Looking powerful was dangerous in a different way. Some people in parts of Europe held so much potential for magical destruction that their presence could anchor a whole city-state built around them. They had their own issues.

The Shiloh she was pretending to be was not anywhere near that level power. But, like everyone who grew up priviledged, she wished she was.

“Don’t be a downer,” the Shiloh said, hustling them towards a spot where they could ford a creek she knew was coming up soon, “I would get something awesome. And wild abilities can just, like, break rules, you know? I could do anything.”

They followed her direction and kept chatting.

“Wade,” she asked, “what would you want your wild ability to be?”

“How so?”

“I mean if you could choose what would you have it be?”

“Are we talking doing the best for the world, the one I would want to change the course of my life, or what I would do to have maximum thoughtless fun?”

Shiloh stared at him. That was actually a really interesting clarification. Maybe it was the bitable ass and profusion of weapons, but she hadn’t expected him to be a deep thinker.

“Okay,” she said, “That’s a great question. I can see that you're the kind who only stripped to get through college. I was thinking mostly the shits and giggles version. But can you answer all three?”

The Were sighed. “Saying ‘all three’ is what always happens when someone asks for clarification between multiple options. That or they just look at you funny.”

“This happen a lot to you?”

He drifted to the side of the trail and stepped up the side a large grey boulder to scope out the trail ahead.

“Yeah, my dad was real into sci-fi and fantasy books. He tricked me and my sister into it. Very slowly and evil mastermind-like. But these sorts of questions were how we spent drives and hikes.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for it.”

The big man stepped off the boulder and landed softly back in front of her, “My mom and dad said reading was one of the only vice’s they prayed we’d fall to.”

“Lucky. I was the weird one for reading in my family.”

“For reading in general or for reading sci-fi fantasy?”

“I didn’t have the luxury of a favorite genre. I read whatever I could get my hands on. Though I lost the habit for a year or two when I first got wrapped up in work and real jobs. Now that I have a little disposable income, I’m getting to figure out my tastes.”

“That’s a fun place to be.”

“What about you, Jasque?”

“Nothing in particular,” he smiled. “I like some old movies, some old books. Even a few comics when I was younger. You ever read Musashi?”

“Like the novel or The Book of Five Rings?”

For a moment the man looked at her with something reptilian and alert in his eyes. Which was to say, one of the few genuine expressions she’s seen on his face.

He did not give her the vibes of a psychopath per se. More the disconcerting, constant blackhole-like focus of someone new to religion seeing their new philosophies is every moment. He hid it well, trying to be charming and approachable, but she had trouble not seeing those weirdly intense undercurrent.

Not so much now. A trickle of sincerity touched his face. His smile was slight, and his eyes softened into a kind of reserved respect.

“Both are good.”

“Okay. I tried the novel. It hits something deep. I actually wanted to read it again when I decided to start out as a cartographer. I wanted that sort of dedication in my own new chapter. The Book of Five Rings though? I wouldn’t say I read it. The copy I had was second hand. Some self-involved American with a black belt in punch-kickery had put a massive dragon on his karate uniform and decided that qualified him to re-translate the book. He even added guns into the metaphors. So, I don’t think it counts as having actually red it.”

Jasque scowled, “I’ll loan you my copy. I keep a second just to share.”

“Really? Thank you, Jasque. That’s damn decent of you.”

He just nodded, annoyed enough about the retranslation that he wasn’t trying to present a charming facade for once.

“Really damn decent,” she smiled before turning her gaze back to the Were who had managed to keep his bite-ability quotient quite high despite being noticeably sweaty

“But Wade, starting at the biggest level, and ending on shits-n-giggles, what wild talent would you want?”

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