The endless rattling and creaking of a wagon had strange effects on one's mind. Depending on the skill of its driver, it could grate one's nerves down to a tiny nub, or it could lull one into a drowsy state of introspection. So if there was one thing I could be thankful for, it was that the wagon I rode on took away from my annoyance rather than adding to it.

It has been said that great patience implies either great genius or great folly. Patience is one thing a Wisewolf must inevitably learn, but humans have precious little time for such slow lessons. And yet, the one seated next to me had long been demonstrating incredible patience, so the question was: was he a genius or a fool?

I had to admit that my own well of patience was shallower than it could be, yet it was kept paradoxically full by all the indignities I suffered while traveling with him. That included his often-crude inability to comprehend the most basic of truths. Such as the fact that he had me next to him, but had been staring ahead of us, lost in thought.

Perhaps I had let myself soak in too much of his foolishness. The further he pulled away into his little world of business, the more I wished to draw in closer and be pampered. But a Wisewolf never shows such weaknesses, she exploits them. And so I found myself doing just that; taking advantage of what my companion had no control over.

I slowly turned my face away, as though having my attention diverted by one of the many overgrown patches of ruin that we were traveling through. Sure enough, the moment he felt my weight shift subtly away, his grip on me instinctively tightened. A man with such a tight hold of his own reins also greedily wished for control over mine.

I could only assume that he was unaware of his own reaction, given how he continued to stare ahead unfazed. But a Wisewolf knows the difference between a wandering mind and a wandering heart, and for all my pride I knew that deep down he considered the two of us to share the same reins. Was that genius or folly?

I had to admit that the thought of sharing one set of reins with him had its appeal; it meant that I could never drop his leash by accident. So in the end, perhaps we were both fools, patiently listening to the rattling and creaking of our wagon as we stared off into space, gently nestled in each others' arms.

What else could I do? I sighed and snuggled up against him, finally winning the shy reaction that I craved. Part of me dreaded him growing wise to my ploys and his own involuntary reactions, but fair was fair. Little did he know that I only revealed my ears and tail to him when I did not mind him reading my body language.

After all, he often considered me prescient simply for my ability to read his quirks. Everyone had their own, but his were far too obvious... hardly a challenge for a Wisewolf such as I. Hence why I felt compelled to expose my ears and tail when he was not being a merchant. Once he was, however, catching him off-guard was far from trivial and I had to risk exposing my own desires. But this time I had an excuse.

Despite continuing to stare off ahead of us, he was now only doing so to maintain his composure. It was painfully obvious from how his eye had momentarily darted in my direction a moment ago. I had of course prepared a tooth-filled smile in anticipation of that, even if I would never admit it was to conceal how self-conscious I was.

Thankfully I had my excuse. My heart might now be full, but my stomach was another matter. The reason was none other than the signs of ruin all around us, which my companion was being so silent about. The road had been overgrown for some time on the latest leg of our journey, but there had quite clearly been a village here at some point.

We had subtly sped up as well, making it obvious that these ruins were our original destination - he rarely let my stomach get this empty. Given our increased speed, and how mum he was being about the situation, there had to be another village nearby. But he was being considerate for my sake, so I had no choice but to return the favor.

"Will we be arriving soon?"

"Ah, so then it WAS your belly that wanted attention..."

I flashed him a happy girlish grin this time, the kind that told him he was quite correct. He puffed out a tiny breath with his nose and smiled back. It was a well-practiced interaction, the kind we always relied upon to still each others' nervousness. He needed reassurance.

I had to make a show of my hunger for his sake. There were rations I could still nibble on, but letting him save face meant that I was not angry about having to do so. Sure enough, his hand rubbed my shoulder in appreciation and his eyes showed the same tinge of guilt they always did when he wished he could do more for me.

"Still, I haven't been where we're going in ages, so I can't promise much. If things haven't changed, the liquor will surely be to your liking, at least."

"Oh?"

My ears perked up, but not only as a conditioned response to his temptations. He was dropping verbal clues that confirmed my suspicions. He would not have let slip about "things changing" unless I was correct about these ruins. It seemed this place no longer matched his memories.

The fact that he was already trying to salvage the situation meant that he was grateful for my cooperation and was purposely leaving himself open to attack. Only a fool would pass up on such an open invitation. If he wished to sate his guilty conscience by sating my appetite, then I knew exactly how to respond.

"Then perhaps I shall have to leave behind another debt, in case we ever have to return to this region."

My sly smile returned with that statement, making him look over at me with a sheepish one. Unlike our interactions when we had first met, I did not even need to expose a fang for his hand to shoot up to his brow, completing our playful ritual. It mattered not that he had to turn away to adjust our course, I was already satisfied.

There was no need to rake him over coals; he knew when he had neglected me. And even if it was an utterly forgivable form of neglect, he would never let any debt be forgiven when he could repay it. I could not dissuade him even if I tried. If I could, we would never have taken this trip in the first place.

After all, we had to save money if we were to open our shop. Plus, he had already partly adjusted to life as a city merchant so such trips were not as profitable as they once were. And yet he insisted on taking one last trek through the northern lands to repay some of his old debts in person.

I sometimes wondered if I could survive, had I his conscience.

"I'd actually appreciate it if you'd take pity on me, even if it's just this once."

Despite his sad eyes, he was obviously saying that in jest. He had long given up on hoping for such things from me, much as I had given up on hoping for certain things from him. We were both too set in some of our ways, and since he never voiced any questions about what made me the way I was, I returned the favor.

In lieu of a verbal response I simply cuddled up closer to him. This was the last business trip we would be able to indulge in for a while, and so far he had not been stingy. And truth be told, I was already willing to settle for just seeing his sheepish smiles, his hand upon his brow, and drinking wine from the cups he left unguarded.