"I'll saddle the mule while you grab your gear," my guide told me.

With a quick nod, I slid down the ladder and raced over to the tavern's back door, flying up the stairs two steps at a time. I tossed the key on the pillow and grabbed my backpack and two small saddlebags, thankful I had paid Hedric for the room in advance.

I wrapped my cloak tighter around me as I descended the stairs. Slowing to a walk, I opened the door and went outside, moving more slowly as I played the part of an elderly widow in case any unscrupulous men were nearby.

Instead, my guide – whose name I still didn't know – was leading the mule out of the barn. With no other fighters in sight, I jogged over and swung into the saddle, leaving my saddlebags in front of me for now.

My guide glanced over his shoulder, and without relinquishing the reins, began jogging toward the bridge halfway between the trees and the village. Milly resisted for a moment, before giving in and trotting behind him trustingly.

"There's two trying to escape over the bridge!" someone shouted behind us, making my blood run cold.

"Go! I'll catch up!" my guide said, releasing the reins as he spun around and pulled a necklace off his neck. His body instantly contorted as a dark orange light shimmered over his skin and clothing. Before I realized what was happening, a large wolf – no, werewolf – raced toward the handful of knights chasing after us.

I leaned low on Milly's back and squeezed my legs against her sides, urging her into a run. I wasn't sure if the distant shouting or if the sudden appearance of the werewolf had spooked her. She might have even picked up my fear, but she obeyed without protest, and her little hooves drummed against the dirt as a deep howl rang out behind us.

Milly somehow found more speed in her old legs. I held the reins tightly, shifting my weight to guide her along the smoothest parts of the dirt road. Her hooves suddenly clattered against the stone bridge, then we were over it, her hoofbeats once more muffled by dry, packed ground.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I saw a brown werewolf darting between three horses, snarling and snapping at their legs while keeping out of range of the knights' swords. The warhorses reared, striking out with metal-shod hooves, but the wolf was faster and its tactics were clearly backed by human intelligence.

The werewolf was a far cry from the wolves I'd seen in my travels. Even though he was mostly running on four legs, his muscular body easily pivoted on his hind legs while his arms – definitely arms and not a normal wolf's forelegs – slashed out at his foes, even grabbing a knight's spear and tossing it to the side.

With our pursuers distracted, I focused on the road ahead, trying to make the most of my head start. The moon shone overhead, four days past the full mark, so I was hoping it'd shed enough light for me to see once I reached the forest.

The trees grew closer, with hints of mist drifting in front of the deep, ominous shadows. I pulled on Milly's reins, slowing her slightly as I peered at the road through the darkness, guiding her so she didn't step in a hole or trip.

A long, warning howl drifted through the air behind us. On a hunch, I brought Milly to stop, dismounted, and led her deep into the trees to the side. I stroked her neck reassuringly, and sure enough, the pounding of horse hooves soon grew closer. I remained motionless as half a dozen knights rode past, trying to catch up to the mule they had seen run into the forest.

There was no point in moving right now. If the fighters stopped to listen, they might hear me, and I doubted a werewolf would have any trouble tracking a mule. I seriously hoped my guide hadn't been injured, because there was no way I could return to the village, not when an entire war party was searching for someone on a mule.

"You're no old lady."

This time, I jumped at his voice, although I managed to avoid reaching for my dagger. I turned to face my guide, whose human form was stepping out from the deeper shadows between the trees. The orange gems in his necklace glinted brighter than the moonlight should have allowed. As best I could tell, he was uninjured.

I pulled off the gray horsehair wig, letting my shoulder-length black hair show. "I never claimed I was."

He shook his head in amusement. "And here I thought I was doing a good deed for a widow. I ought to have charged you double."

"You get me there safely, and I'll consider it. Since our earlier introductions were interrupted, I'm Olivia."

He once more regarded me steadily. "You don't seem that worried by my presence. Most people change their minds after they find out what I am or see my werewolf form."

With a heavy sigh, I replied, "Even though I saw it, it hasn't quite sunk in yet. Besides, I have bigger problems at the moment, like a small war party currently searching for me, and a mountain range between me and safety."

"Fair enough. And if I don't share my name?"

I shrugged. "That's your choice, but if I don't know your name, I'll be forced to improvise, and I'm not very original when it comes to nicknames."

He chuckled faintly before saying, "My name is Shane."

"Thank you. Now, do we linger here until our friends give up, or see how far away we can get?"

"This way. There's a lumber track in this direction."

Still on foot, I led Milly behind him, trying to keep her on the narrow trail so she didn't make too much noise. It was surreal. A cursed werewolf was guiding me through one of the most infamous forests north of the Desray Desert, at night, while a war party was searching for me.

I shook my head and tried to focus on the present. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"No, those three only had swords. I left as soon as the ones with crossbows showed up."

"Sorry you had to take that risk. It was the only reason Milly made it to the trees, so I appreciate it."

"It'd be pretty embarrassing if I lost someone to a couple of over-glorified bandits within fifteen minutes of being hired. Horses usually aren't too hard for a werewolf to spook, and unless I'm mistaken, one of those fighters broke his neck when his horse threw him. He probably would have been fine if it hadn't been for all the fancy armor he was wearing."

"That might not be such a good thing. Instead of just bruised pride, they'll be out to avenge their comrade."

He merely shrugged and didn't bother looking back. "If your life goals revolve around killing innocent people and causing pain, then don't be surprised when death comes knocking."

There wasn't really anything I could say against that, so I said, "Thanks again for distracting them."

He glanced back as if my words surprised him. Eventually, he said, "You're welcome."