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She casts me a stony look. “You didn’t do me any favors earlier.”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing a little. “If I’d known you were showing off for a man, I would have played along.”

She grunts, and then it goes quiet.

I drink my tea, thinking over the strange events of the day. I went from waiting for an aynauth to leave our camp to drinking tea with a Dorian gnome.

You’d think I’d be miserable, but I’ve never been so happy in my life—and it’s all thanks to Henrik.

Once I’ve finished the tea, I snuggle into the blankets and close my eyes. As I drift off to the rhythmic sound of Maisel’s knitting, I decide that somehow, someway, I will help Henrik secure his seal.

* * *

I waketo the sound of meat sizzling in a skillet, and the smell of sausage fills Maisel’s hut.

“Finally awake?” my new housemate grouches from the stove. The soft, nighttime Maisel is gone. Once again, her hair is braided into a no-nonsense tail, and she wears her gnomish armor.

Yawning, I sit up and stretch, pleased the gnome didn’t murder me in my sleep. I then pull my hair over my shoulder, reassuring myself it’s all still here.

“I see you didn’t steal my hair—” I begin, but my words are cut off when something stout rams into my shoulders from behind me.

Startled, I turn—and then I shriek and crawl back.

The rock leopard stretches as he rises from my bed of blankets and then sits on his haunches, head cocked to the side as if he’s chastising me for being much too loud this early in the morning.

How long has he been there?

“What are you squealing about now?” Maisel demands. “He slept with you most of the night.”

“Who is he?” I demand.

“Ulfric,” Maisel says as she cracks eggs into a cast iron pan that looks larger than she is. “He’s my steed.”

“Your…steed?” I scoot further back when the massive cat yawns and reclaims the bed we apparently shared.

Maisel shoots me a look like I’ve again confirmed that I’m daft. “You humans travel about on horses, don’t you? Unless you’re a Woodmore, I wouldn’t think the concept would be foreign to you.”

“Youridehim?”

“What else would you do with a rock leopard?”

That is an excellent question.

“What…what does he eat?”

“Whatever he wants,” Maisel says without cracking a smile. “Usually stray humans.”

I look at her sharply, and she finally smirks. I roll my eyes, and then I let out an embarrassing meep when Ulfric stretches on his side and extends his massive front paw as if to say hello. With half-slitted eyes, he yawns, displaying a terrifying maw of sharp, white teeth.

Silvery gray, with ghost spots and a plush coat, he’s just about the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. His tail is huge and so fluffy, I want to wrap myself up in it. I’m not sure he’d appreciate that, though, so I don’t try.

“You don’t like cats?” Maisel asks.

“No, I do.” I tentatively brush my hand over the leopard’s paw. “I’ve just never seen one so large.”

He’s not so huge thatIcould ride him—but he could easily eat me.

“Very well. Leave the poor cat alone. Are you hungry?” Maisel asks. “Get up and have some breakfast. I’ve made tea—it’s on the table.”