Bonus chapter! In celebration of my books reaching a combined 25 million reads, here's an extra chapter, which is my way of saying thank you since this wouldn't have been possible without all of you!

Exhaustion tugged at me as I rode Milly down the narrow path. I had no idea where Shane was. He said he would be "checking the area", and if he gave a long howl, I was supposed to hide in the trees.

He had left my sight before shifting, and I still wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about that. On one hand, it was intriguing. On the other hand, I liked my stomach's contents where they currently were.

Dawn was only a couple of hours away, so I suspected we'd be stopping before too long. Or so I hoped. Werewolves had to sleep too, right? If nothing else, Milly would probably only plod down this trail for a few more hours before she'd balk in a rare display of stubbornness and demand rest.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I saw Shane step onto the trail ahead. When I got closer, he said, "We'll make camp in a sheltered area over here."

He started walking down a deer path, and I sent Milly after him. We'd successfully evaded the war party all night, although Shane had returned three times to stop Milly in case the soldiers passed close enough to hear us.

Despite running around all night, Shane didn't look the least bit tired. I counted that as a good thing though. Any guide I hired should have more stamina than me and be able to travel all day and still be alert for danger.

We eventually arrived in a clearing Shane had clearly used before. There was a small lean-to hut for travelers and a tree branch paddock for horses to graze in. A small campfire was already burning with a small pot gently bubbling beside it.

This was a very pleasant surprise. Travelers normally helped guides set up the camp, start the fire, and cook the meals. There was even a bucket of water already in the paddock for Milly.

"Thank you," I said, dismounting and leading Milly to the paddock. "What's left to be done?"

"Not much. There are some pots hidden in the base of that tree if you want to boil some water. The stew will be ready shortly. Otherwise, it's just the mule and arranging the shelter however you like."

"I just use a bedroll, although I have a spare blanket if you want to borrow it," I said as I removed the saddlebags and saddle, hanging them over the fence post for now. It hadn't escaped my notice that he didn't even have a backpack, although he might be planning to sleep as a werewolf.

He gazed at me for a few moments, as if surprised by my offer. I hated to break it to him, but if a trader using manners perplexed him, this was going to be a long trip for Mr. Werewolf.

"Thanks for the offer," he finally said, "but I don't need it. And I won't be using the shelter, so don't worry about leaving room for me."

With a yawn, I carried my bedroll into the lean-to. There were even fresh branches and grasses to create a barrier between me and the dirt. Another unexpected touch. Even if this was the only time he did it, I'd give him a tip at the end of our journey.

As I came out of the makeshift shelter, Shane was stirring the stew over the fire, so I went to check the tree. Inside the hollow base, I found several pots and other dishes. I pulled out a pot, as well as a bowl and spoon for Shane since I noticed he didn't have any beside him.

I set the bowl and spoon by Shane, then poured some water into the pot and placed it by the fire. With that done, I went to give Milly a quick brush while the food cooked. She tiredly chewed mouthfuls of clover, and it wouldn't be long before she fell asleep. Nor could I blame her – she'd done her fair share of work.

Just as I finished, Shane quietly called, "The stew is ready."

I quickly washed my hands in a bucket of water and grabbed my bowl and spoon from my gear. Shane was eating by the time I came over.

As I ladled some stew into my bowl, I asked, "How long will this trip likely take?"

"Usually about two weeks. Possibly longer if we have to keep dodging soldiers."

The villagers had told me it took about ten days in good weather, so this wasn't going to take much longer than what I had expected.

"I'm all for dodging soldiers, bandits, and trouble," I murmured, tasting the stew, which was actually pretty good. There were even roots and tubers in it, not just meat.

"My version of dodging them is by only traveling at night, so you'll have all day to rest."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "All day? Even breaking camp a couple of hours early would reduce the time considerably."

"If you want, you can travel ahead, and I'll catch up later, but don't expect me until shortly after nightfall," he said with a shrug, clearly expecting me to argue. Most traders and travelers would have – time was money – but my goal was to cross these dangerous mountains alive and I didn't mind trading a few extra days if it meant avoiding our pursuers.

I also strongly suspected this was part of his werewolf curse. Perhaps he was unable to shift during the day or something. Questions burned in my mind, but it would be ten leagues beyond rude to ask, especially during the first day of our travels.

I shook my head. "You're the guide, so I'm trusting you to know what's best."

He blinked at my reply and regarded me while eating.

To break the silence, I asked, "You mentioned one long howl means to hide, but are there any other signals I should know?"

"Not really. I usually chase off the bigger predators or guide people around them. Even if I shift, I can speak aloud, so that removes a lot of the potential confusion."

I nodded, taking note of that detail. His snarls at the horses were still clear in my mind, so I was curious to hear him talk, but apart from the glimpse I'd had when he delayed the fighters, I hadn't seen his werewolf shape. Whenever he'd returned, he'd always shown up as a human.

Shane shrugged. "I advise against wandering far from the camp. I'll bring water since the river is some distance away. Otherwise, I suggest getting plenty of rest and being ready to ride at sunset."

"You make it sound like you're not going to be around during the day," I commented, making sure no hint of accusation touched my tone.

"I won't be." The words were terse, as if this was often a source of conflict for him.

It was clearly a subject I had to tiptoe around, but I did have questions – important ones in a forest like this.

"Will you be able to hear me call if trouble shows up?"

"No, that's why I hide these camps so well."

A dozen questions swirled around my mind, mostly revolving around where he'd be and what he'd be doing, but even at the age of twenty-four, my time as a trader had taught me to read people's body language, and he was clearly ready to turn this into a fight.

I ate more stew as I fought against my annoyance and debated how to reply. Considering how defensive he currently was, it wouldn't take much to push that into aggression, which wasn't something I wanted to do with a werewolf. Especially since he mentioned a curse, which was probably another touchy subject.

Spellcasters were few and far between, but stories abounded, most of which were undoubtedly just far-fetched tales. Yet, any tale often had grains of truth hidden within, and these stories tended to have several common themes: the spellcasters were usually powerful, tenacious when angered, and full of creative consequences.

Perhaps his curse turned him into a poodle during the day.

No self-respecting guide would dare reveal they were a werepoodle during the day, nor be seen like that.

But regardless of the reasons or excuses, he wasn't going to be around during the day, and he clearly had no plans on changing that detail.

It aggravated me to no end, not that I let it show. Protection was the main reason I hired him! The road was there – following it safely was the tricky part. Unfortunately, he was the only guide in the area. And he had risked his life by charging three knights, something no other guide would have done.

A trader's life was all about bartering and compromises, and I reluctantly concluded this was just one more compromise. I didn't like it, but life was like that. Getting angry wouldn't solve any problems – quite the opposite, in fact. It'd likely create them.

Since Shane's decisions were outside of my control and I didn't want to take my chances wandering through the forest alone, I decided to focus on things I had some control over and plan accordingly.

"What are the odds of trouble showing up while you're gone?" I finally asked, keeping my voice conversational, as if commenting upon the weather.

"Slim," he grudgingly replied as the tension eased slightly. "I chase away the predators and check the area thoroughly, although there were a couple of occasions where people had to shoo animals away from the paddock and camp."

"I don't suppose you have a bow or extra weapons, by chance? I'd rather have more than just a dagger if a bear shows up."

If he wasn't going to be around, I wanted to be properly prepared.

"Bows, no. Knives and a dagger, yes."

"Hmmm..." I thought back to my previous trips with various trading caravans and a few tricks people had utilized to give their weapons more range.

I'd never managed to master the shepherd's sling, but I was decent with a staff, and this was a forest...

"If you have a flat-backed knife, about as long as my forearm, I can secure that to a sturdy branch and turn it into a spear," I mused. A staff was a good weapon, but I figured one with a pointy end capable of drawing blood would be better, and if something did get past it, I still had my dagger.

He nodded thoughtfully, most of his defensiveness gone. "I have one that should work, and I can also find a suitable tree for straight wood."

"Thanks."

If any artistic person feels like drawing a werepoodle, I'd love to see it! Feel free to share the link here.