He wouldn't mind the cold, but he hummed a fragile laugh at her words — which almost certainly weren't a joke. Thank you, Ma'am.

Tipping his head to her, Nate made himself walk down to the water. A wayward heart thrashed violently at such restraint. It occurred to him he easily might vanish into the night from here. Appetite lost, dignity in jeopardy, maybe it would be easier for the both of them.

Because even if Hestia intended well, the idea of being anything other than a guest that gave more than he took left Nate nauseous. Prying a meal off her was bold enough. He wouldn't take assurances otherwise for anything but mannered pleasantry.

Big paws slipped into frigid shallows. Nate grimaced. Persisted. Waded out as deep as he could.

The way he saw it, there were two possibilities here.

Maybe she meant what she said (for now), and had some willingness to extend patience to a man who'd shown a little too much boy in himself to be polite.

But patience had limits. He knew from experience. Hestia was a stranger, and where those limits were he couldn't begin to anticipate, so he preferred not to test them at all.

The other? She was talking sweet to get his guard down, and would deal a worse blow, later. Maybe not even on purpose. He'd known preachers like that — all their favorite hymns something or the other about equality and the salvation of sparrows. Kindness enough to draw in a weary soul. Then at the pulpit to sing a different tune — where some were more equal than others, and cruelty came by Divine decree. No mercy in their hearts, after all.

He supposed he still believed in a God, most days. Opinionated men who spent all their time trying to define the will of a being said to be beyond mortal understanding, weren't the sort of folk he would concede faith to. But it was hard to believe he'd earned anything but ire or indifference. Nate had spent a lot of nights praying for better days. He'd started to think Eleanore was his answer. Now he was dead, in a place that didn't rightly seem to belong to heaven, hell or purgatory.

And a she-wolf named Hestia was offering him a meal, and telling him to hold out for hope! Nate laughed again. What else was he supposed to do?


In the end, he came back.

Smells mighty fine, Ma'am. He said, a picture of only a mannerly and grateful guest.