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smiling Holo. She took the bearskin cloak off and tossed it back in the wagon; evidently the cloak, which had been made for Lawrence’s height, was too big for her. She was even smaller than he’d realized yesterday, having seen her only in the dim moonlight. Lawrence was on the tall side, but even so she was fully two heads shorter than him.
    Then, as she verified the fit of the rest of the clothes, she spoke offhandedly. “So, I wish to travel with you. May I?”
    She smiled but did not seem to flatter. If she’d tried to flatter him, Lawrence felt there might have been reason to refuse her, but she simply smiled happily.
    Lawrence sighed.
    She didn’t seem to be a thief, at least. He couldn’t let his guard down, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her come along. And sending her away would only make the constant loneliness harder to bear.
    “This must be some kind of fate. Very well,” Lawrence said.
    Holo did not appear especially overjoyed—she merely smiled.
    “You’ll have to earn your keep, though. The life of a merchant isn’t easy. I expect the god of abundant harvests to bring an abundant harvest to my coin purse.”
    “I’m not so shameless as to thoughtlessly freeload. I’m Holo the Wisewolf, and I have my pride,” said Holo sullenly. Lawrence was not so blind as to think she wasn’t making a show of childish indignation, though.
    Sure enough, Holo chuckled. “Though this proud wolf made a bit of a spectacle of herself yesterday,” she said self-deprecatingly, as if her flustered demeanor reflected her true feelings. “In any case, it is good to meet you…err…”
    “Lawrence. Kraft Lawrence. When I’m working I go by Lawrence.”
    “Mm. Lawrence. I shall sing your praises for all eternity,” said Holo with chest thrust forward, her wolf ears pricking up proudly. She seemed oddly serious. It was difficult to tell if she was being childish or cunning. She was like the ever-changing mountain weather.
    Apparently that ever-changing mood was part of her craftiness. Lawrence hastily revised his opinion and offered his hand from the wagon bed. It was the proof that he’d truly acknowledged her presence as a companion.
    Holo smiled and took his hand.
    Her hand was small and warm.
    “At any rate, it will soon rain. We should make haste.”
    “Wha...? You should have said so sooner!” exclaimed Lawrence—loudly enough to startle the horse. The previous night hadn’t brought so much as a hint of rain, but looking up at the sky he could indeed see clouds beginning to gather. Holo chuckled at him as he hurriedly made preparations to depart. She scampered on board the wagon, and it was obvious enough from the ease with which she rearranged the slept-in furs that she would be more handy than some fresh-faced apprentice child.
    “The river is in a foul temper. ’Twould be best to cross a short distance from here.”
    After Lawrence roused the horse, collected the bucket, and took the reins in hand, Holo joined him in the driver’s seat.
    It was too big for one person, but slightly too small for two.
    But to ward off the chill, too small was just right.
    With the neigh of a horse, the pair’s strange travels had begun.
     

 

 
    Chapter 2
     
    The rain was a true downpour. The threatening storm finally caught up with Lawrence and Holo, but fortunately they caught sight of a church through their rain-blurred vision and hurried into it. Unlike the monastery, the church survived on tithes from travelers and pilgrims who would stay the night and pray for a safe journey, so Lawrence and Holo were greeted warmly, without so much as a single fell glance.
    Nonetheless, a girl with wolf ears and a tail would hardly be allowed to walk into a church. Holo thus covered her head and face in a hood, and they spun the lie that she was Lawrence’s wife, whose face was badly burned.
    He knew Holo was snickering to herself beneath the veil, but she understood her relationship with the Church, so her performance