Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 42: Grace: Lyre’s Strange Behavior

When Lyre slides into the chair across from me, I lose track of the strange cat. It disappears as if it was never there at all.

"White?" Lyre asks between bites, completely unconcerned as I tell her about a bizarre cat only I can see.

"Yeah."

"Don’t worry, it’s harmless."

Andrew’s out there now; I watch through the window as he sniffs the air, turning to shrug his shoulders at me through the glass. He must not smell anything.

Having a stalker is annoying, but hey, if he wants to brave the strange and mysterious for me, I’m not going to complain. If I have to suffer through his constant unwanted presence, I may as well get something out of it.

I nibble at a French fry, enjoying its salty potato goodness as I watch her eat. "What do you mean by ’harmless’?"

Lyre shrugs, her slitted eyes narrowing slightly as she takes another monstrous bite of her burger. Ketchup dots the corner of her mouth. "Exactly what the word means."

She’s already halfway through her meal, and she’s only been sitting here for a minute. My stomach growls in response, my appetite suddenly returning now that Lyre’s here.

The burger’s greasy and generic, but for some reason its flavor rivals the food the pack offers. Freedom is the best seasoning.

"Our plans are going to be messed up, though," she muses between chews, staring out the window. Andrew paces a few more times, nostrils flaring, before he heads back to the entrance, presumably to come back here. freewёbnoνel.com

"What do you mean?" Mustard gloops out the side of my burger, and I wipe at it with a napkin. It isn’t that I dislike mustard, but too much of it is just... well, too much.

"It means what I said." Her tone borders on patronizing, as if I’m asking a stupid question.

I blink, waiting for elaboration that doesn’t come.

"Well, that’s why it’s always best to expect the unexpected." Lyre’s voice comes out languid, lazy almost. She stretches in her chair, leaning back as she finishes the last quarter of her food. "We won’t go far tonight. I’d rather have a comfortable place to stay."

My forehead creases. A thousand questions bubble to my lips, but I swallow them down with another bite of burger. Who am I to argue or complain? Lyre’s a free spirit, willingly bringing me along at her own expense. If she’s being a little weird, well, she was weird from the moment we met, so it isn’t really that strange when I think about it.

The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just... weird. At least on my end. Lyre seems perfectly content to exist in her own bubble of certainty while I flounder in confusion beside her.

She finishes her burger long before I’m even halfway through mine. While I continue to eat, she plucks fries from the container between us, scrolling through her phone with greasy fingers.

"Looking for a nearby campground," she explains without looking up. Her brightly colored nails click against the screen as she huffs. "Damn it. If I’d known we were going to camp properly tonight, I wouldn’t have bothered dumping the tanks here."

"I’m sorry." Apologizing is second nature, a reflexive response. Somehow, I feel responsible for this inconvenience, even though camping tonight is news to me, too.

Lyre’s head snaps up. "Why are you apologizing?"

The last French fry dangles in midair as I blink at her. "I don’t know. It just... felt necessary."

She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "Stop apologizing when there’s nothing to apologize for. It makes you look weak."

My cheeks burn; it isn’t like I’d ever considered myself strong, but being looked down on is never a great feeling.

Lyre squints at me, her unusual eyes calculating. Then comes another sigh, deeper than the last, as if the weight of the entire world rests squarely on her shoulders. She shakes her head again. "You need to remember how to appear strong, even when you feel weak."

"I am weak," I say automatically, used to the designation.

"You don’t have to be strong. Just look strong."

My eye twitches. "You want me to lift weights?"

"Of course not." Lyre points her finger at me. "Don’t think I don’t know you’re doing this on purpose. Be strong of mind, Grace. Don’t lower your head for just anyone. You’re a queen, you know."

I blink. Her strange behavior aside, the lines she’s spouting now belong on some sort of TV melodrama. "You’re being weird, Lyre."

Lyre groans and tosses her phone onto the table with a clatter. She scratches at her head with both hands, completely mussing her rainbow-colored hair until it sticks up in wild directions.

"I know," she says, sounding utterly miserable.

Then she jerks her head up, glowering at me with her unsettling slitted eyes. "If you appear weak, then those beneath you will have nowhere to stand."

I stare at her for a long moment, my burger forgotten in my hands. "Did you major in saying things without any context whatsoever? Because you’re really excelling at it."

"Occupational hazard." She grimaces. "Just hurry up and eat."

Andrew slides into the chair beside me, a scowl etched into his face. "There’s nothing out there."

Neither Lyre nor I acknowledge him. I take another bite of my burger, chewing slowly as I study the strange woman across from me. Her hair looks like a rainbow exploded on her head, especially now that she’s messed it up, and looks kind of like a young, rainbow-colored Einstein, but younger. And prettier.

"So we’re camping tonight?" I ask, trying to understand our next steps.

Lyre’s eyes flick over to Andrew for a split second before returning to me. "Yes. There’s a little place about twenty minutes from here. Nothing fancy, but it should do. We’ll have internet, too."

"That isn’t very far," Andrew observes, straightening in his chair. "Is something wrong?"

We ignore him.

"Once we set up at the campsite, I’ll need to run some errands," Lyre says instead of replying, her voice casual despite an odd intensity in her slitted eyes. "You should probably stay with the camper."

"I can help, if you want."

"I have another errand to run after setting up." She taps her nails against the table, creating a rhythmic clicking sound. "I can’t do it if you’re with me."

Oh? This is new. My mind races with possibilities—is she meeting someone dangerous? Planning something nefarious? A one-night stand...?

Okay, the last one is probably not it, but as I stare at Lyre, I think I understand. "Is whatever you’re doing illegal?"

Andrew’s eyes widen.

Lyre’s expression doesn’t change. Not a flicker of guilt, not a hint of surprise at my directness. Her eyes remain fixed on mine, unnervingly steady, and she doesn’t give me an answer.

That’s probably... the answer, right?

Interesting. Lyre’s some sort of criminal. Her free nomad lifestyle suddenly makes a lot of sense.

"Are you done eating?" she asks, nodding toward my half-finished burger.

The deflection is as clear as a neon sign, but I want to know. "You didn’t answer my question," I press, unwilling to let it drop. She doesn’t seem angry, so it’s likely she isn’t telling me for my own safety.

"You didn’t answer mine," she counters smoothly.

Andrew clears his throat. "Maybe we should—"

"Shut up," Lyre and I say in unison, neither of us breaking eye contact.

The silence stretches for a few more minutes before I give in. Prying into her business is rude, especially when she’s the one doing me favors. I’ve brought nothing but a stalker to the table.

"Yes, I’m done eating," I sigh.