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doubted that she was that sort of troublemaker—but if she was, he thought, she would surely make off with his entire load.
    He looked forward to the next day.
    After all, it had been a long time since he’d slept beside another. It was impossible to be unhappy with her slightly sweet scent piercing the strong smelling furs.
    The horse heaved a sigh, as if reading Lawrence’s simple thought.
    Perhaps horses really could understand humans and simply preferred not to speak.
    Lawrence grinned ruefully and closed his eyes.
     
    Lawrence rose early the next morning. He was like most merchants who awoke early in order to extract the most profit from the day. However, when he opened his eyes to the morning mist, Holo was already up, sitting next to him, and rummaging through something. For an instant Lawrence wondered if his estimation of her had been wrong, but if so, she was truly audacious. He raised his head and looked over his shoulder, and it appeared she had gone looking for clothes among his things and was just now tying her shoes.
    “Hey, now! Those are mine!”
    Even if it wasn’t actual theft, even a god shouldn’t be rummaging around through other people’s things.
    Holo turned around at Lawrence’s rebuke, but there was not so much as a trace of guilt on her face.
    “Hm? Oh, you are awake. What think you of this? Does it look good?” she asked, completely unconcerned as she spread her arms. Far from chastened, she seemed actually proud. Seeing her like this made the uncertain, overwrought Holo of yesterday seem like something out of a dream. Indeed it seemed that the real Holo, the one he’d have to contend with from here on out, was this impudent, prancing thing.
    Incidentally, the clothes she now wore were Lawrence’s best, the one outfit he reserved for negotiations with rich traders and the like. The top was an indigo blue shirt underneath a three -quarters-length vest. The trousers were a rare combination of linen and leather, with a skirt that wrapped fully around her lower body, tied with a fine sheepskin sash. The boots were a rare prize, made of tanned leather and triple-layered, good even in the snowy mountains. Over all this she wore a bearskin greatcoat.

 

Merchants take pride in their practical, dignified clothing. To buy these Lawrence had saved gradually beginning in his apprenticeship—it had taken him ten years. If he showed up to a negotiation wearing these with a nicely groomed beard, he would have most people at a disadvantage.
    And Holo now wore those garments.
    He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with her, though.
    All the clothes were clearly too big for her, which made it all the more charming.
    “The greatcoat is black—my brown hair looks lovely against it, eh? These trousers, though—they get in the way of my tail. Might I put a hole in them?”
    The trousers she spoke of so lightly had been made by a master craftsman only after significant effort on Lawrence’s part. A hole would likely prove impossible to repair. He shook his head resolutely.
    “Hrm. Well, fortunately they’re still large. I’ll find a way to make them work.”
    Holo seemed not to harbor the faintest concern that she would be asked to take the clothes off. Lawrence didn’t think she was likely to run away while wearing them, but nevertheless he rose and regarded her. If she were to go a city and sell them, they would fetch a tidy amount of gold.
    “You’re a merchant through and through, that’s sure enough. I know just what you anticipate with that expression on your face,” said Holo, smiling.
    She jumped lightly down from the wagon.
    Her movement was so unassuming and natural that he had no reaction. If she’d run just then, he would have been unable to pursue.
    Or perhaps he didn’t react because he didn’t believe she would run.
    “I’ll not run. If that had been my aim, I’d have gone long since.”
    Lawrence glanced at the wheat sheaf in the wagon bed, then looked back at the