I scream nearly jumping out of my skin when I find Wolf standing there.

I have to press my hands against my thudding chest to suppress the sound.

“You scared me,” I say. “Maybe you should wear a bell or something.”

He approaches silently and lays something on the table, a round orb with a fleshy skin. It looks like some kind of fruit, but I've never seen it before.

He gestures to it.

His expression seems unsure and hesitant and takes several steps back, putting enough space between our bodies to fit a small house. But I finally understand what he wants.

"Are you giving that to me?"

He nods.

I glance at the thing again, and then back at Wolf. Then I ask, “What is it?”

Instead of responding, he sniffs the air. His eyes track around the room, searching for the source of the smell, until they land on the tray of tarts behind me.

Hunger descends in his gaze as he licks his lips.

“You made that?” he asks in a gravelly tone.

“Yes," I say, nearly blushing at the intensity of his gaze. The way he looks at the tarts feels like he wants to devour all of them whole.

It's similar to how he looked at me when we kissed

Stop thinking about the kiss, I caution myself and instead, I say, "You want some?”

He nods.

I circle behind me to gingerly pick up one of the cooler tarts on the edge of the tray.

When I turn around, I nearly jump again. Wolf is standing right in front of me now, his hunger for the tarts clearly having won over his desire to keep his distance.

But even as I hand him the tart, he makes sure not to so much as brush my palm with the tip of his fingers. He picks it up between two fingers, delicately like one would the finest of lace, or a fragile rose petal, and brings it to his nose, taking one long sniff.

He shut his eyes and then he pops the entire thing into his mouth, chews a few times, and then swallows.

“That was quick,” I say wryly, but he doesn't answer. He gazes expectantly behind me at the rest of the tarts.

“They need to cool down,” I warn, but he doesn't budge.

I sigh.

I turn and use his apron to pick up the tray again, grab one of the cooler tarts to save for myself, and then hand him the rest.

He nods his thanks as he takes the tray, sans apron, retreating to the broken seat across the table. He balances the tray delicately on his knee and then he begins to inhale each tart, one by one.

He tosses a tart into his mouth, chewing with his eyes closed, expression one of pure bliss. After he swallows that one, he picks up another tart, takes another sniff, and pops it into his mouth too.

I watch him eat enthusiastically, hiding my smile when he nods rhythmically as he chews. Who knew that the big bad Wolf had such a sweet tooth? Despite his large frame and his sharp features, he appears quite boyish right now as he sits there devouring tarts, savoring their smell as well as their taste.

But even though I watch him, the second his eyes flicker to me, I glance away.

I lean back against the counter and start on my tart too, but I find I'm suddenly not hungry. So I simply nibble at the flaky edges, trying not to stare at Wolf too much, while fascinated by his enjoyment of the meal.

When he's done, he burps and nods in satisfaction. He stands and heads to the counter to pour himself water from a tap, but then his eyes travel to the tart still nursed in my hand.

A greedy look dilates his pupils.

It's the first time I've seen such an openly pleading expression on his face.

My eyes widen in disbelief. “You want more? You just ate twenty of them.”

He cocks his head as if to say, What does that have to do with anything?

The situation is so ridiculous I would have laughed if I wasn’t certain that it would wound his pride.

Instead, I shake my head incredulously and pass him the tart. A second later, it disappears into his mouth.

After which he sighs in disappointment that there are no more tarts for him to eat.

I shake my head. “If you want more I can make them, as long as you get me more apples."

He appears disbelieving. “You would do that?"

“Yes.” When his expression doesn't change, I ask, “Why does that sound so shocking to you? You’ve made me food multiple times and given me a place to stay. You're also training me. Isn’t it normal for me to want to do nice things for you to show my gratitude?”

His puzzled expression shows that the idea never occurred to him. He never even thought of asking me anything in return for all his help, except perhaps to aid him in saving his mother.

And while, yes, I know that we have a deal in that regard, it still doesn't explain why he carried me when I was weak or why he defended me from Brute?

Why he's being so kind, if not necessarily polite, to me?

I'm so used to most people around me only being nice when they need something for me. Usually, it's to use me as a pawn in a scheme or, in my mother's case, to sell me off to the highest bidder. Most often, they have a hidden agenda they don't tell me and they smile and flatter me with their lips while nursing a knife at my back.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

So it's strange to receive kindness from someone like Wolf.

Someone who so openly shows his animosity, who mocks me without qualms yet doesn't let anyone else do the same. Who insults me one second, but then defends me the next. Who pushes me physically beyond my limits, but then massages my feet with gentle strokes.

But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, there was a reason, he stole my heart in the last timeline.

Even when I was his prisoner, he always showed kindness. He was gruff and rough at times as we traveled, believing me to be a traitor who posed a danger to Savannah's mission. But at the same time, he gave me food more often than not, even when there wasn’t enough to go around. Sometimes, he starved so that Savannah and I could eat. Once, while he was interrogating me, threatening to torture me if I didn't tell him the truth, we got attacked by desert dwellers.

Wolf fought them off and stood between me and danger, acting as my defender, rather than the captor he was.

And after he'd killed the men, he turned back and said, "Are you okay?"

That was the first time my belly fluttered. It was a mad thought to have but none of my other captors had ever asked me if I was okay.

Wolf was an undoubtedly kind man.

Which was what made the fact that he had to kill me so much more painful. And in some ways, also more bearable.

I shiver again at the memory casting it away. Wolf murdering me aside, he is a kind man, and he's also the kind of man who is genuinely surprised when people do kind things for him.

It makes me wonder how often someone has offered him something out of the blue, without expecting anything in return.

It also makes me realize that he doesn't deserve a selfish woman like me who only knows how to take from him.

Because it truly did not even occur to me to make him a meal until now.

It likely would have occurred to Savannah. She's always been naturally caring and intuitive.

“Bring me more apples tomorrow and I’ll make you as many tarts as you want,” I say. "Ten dozen of them if you would like."

He hesitates and then nods. Then as though realizing how close we're standing, he backs away instantly. He then returns to his seat, picks up the fleshy orb from the table, and tosses it to me.

“What is this?” I ask, catching it.

“Lost fruit,” he says. “Taste it.”

I've never heard of it, but I trust Wolf enough to bring it up to my lips and take a bite.

To my pleasant surprise, it's not as sweet as the apple. The taste is subtler the sweetness not as sharp. The texture is the best part of it, firm with a crunch but then melted on the tongue after the first few chews. It's also juicy, the liquid having the same earthy, subtle taste.

“It’s delicious,” I say. “Thank you.”

He shrugs.

I take two more bites before wrapping it up. I don't want to eat it all in one go like Wolf does. I want to savor it bit by bit, enjoying every second of this gift he's given me.

But now that our little meal has concluded, an uncomfortable silence descends between us. It's not like the usual silences when I can tell Wolf had nothing more to say to me or was worn out from talking. This silence tells me that he does have much more to say he doesn't have the words to say it.

“I trained today,” I say to fill the silence. “I ran up the hill fifty times and pushed against the earth sixty times. I also did that circuit you taught me that made my legs burn."

He nods. “That’s good. You're getting stronger. But you should have been resting today.”

“I felt fine,” I says. “Besides I need to train for the next trial.” And beyond that.

Because for my ultimate plan to work, I need to be faster, stronger, and better in every way.

In my previous lives, I always avoided power believing it was arrogant and presumptuous of me to even seek it. I also thought I wasn't deserving of it, wasn't worthy of it, wasn't capable of it.

Also, in a way, the responsibility that came with holding that power scared me. I never wanted to be the person people looked to to save them, because they would only be disappointed when I failed.

So I did the bare minimum when it came to training. I didn't want to become too strong because I didn't want anyone to rely on me. I thought I only needed to be able to protect myself and not be a nuisance.

But my last death taught me the truth. I can't stay on the sidelines anymore. Each time I do, I end up dead.

I need power without limits so that I can protect myself and those I care about. It's the only way I truly win and get out of this time loop. It's the only way I live.

"You know what the next trial is going to be?” Wolf asks.

I shake my head. There's already been so many changes so far, I don't feel comfortable predicting it anymore.

All I know is that I have to prepare myself for the unexpected. The next trial will likely have something to do with an event that happened in my first life, but it may not follow the same pattern.

Regardless, everything appears to still be hurtling towards the same goal which means I must stick to my original plan.

“But whatever it is, it is likely going to be harder than the last two tests so far," I say. "The King seems to be upping the ante each time."

Wolf nods and we lapse into silence again.

There's so much I want to say, about earlier. I want to explain that my reaction wasn't his fault, that it was mine, but I don't want to make the situation even more awkward.

Still, I don't want him to blame himself so I muster up some courage, and say, "Wolf–"

He cuts me off by rising suddenly, chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“You’re leaving?” I ask and he nods.

“I need to meet someone."

“Who?”

But once again he doesn't answer my question as he leaves the hut.

He doesn't return either by the time I go to sleep.

And so for the first time in a while, when I have the nightmare, I'm alone.

***

Fresh apples await me the next morning but there's no Wolf in sight. Two woven sacks sit by the stoves, overflowing with apples.

I wonder distantly why he doesn't make a business out of selling these apples. He would likely make some kind of fortune with it.

But it only takes a second of thinking for me to understand and even hear his answer in my head:

"To be a businessman, I'd have to talk to people," he would say. "Too much work."

I sigh and fetch the container of flour from underneath the stove.

There isn't enough flour to match the apples in the bag, which means I probably needed to go to the market and buy some more. Luckily, I have some money from passing the last trials. I've yet to deliver the coins to my mother as promised, but I'm sure she won't miss a few coins used for flour.

I put on the cloak Wolf gave me and head out into the surprisingly bright outdoors. The wind slaps me in the face but I enjoy the mountain breeze as I walk. I think I'm starting to understand why Wolf lives so far away from the town square. There's so much about it to enjoy – the lack of noise and the way the air smelled fresher for one. Everything seems peaceful out here, in a way I didn't notice before. Even the Dark Forest doesn't appear as threatening as it once was.

I wonder what Wolf is doing right now. I wonder who he's meeting with, and why the meeting takes all night.

The town market is bustling when I arrive. Winter is coming soon which means that everyone is stocking up for the inevitable famine. There are already signs of it, empty baskets of fruit that were once full, shuttered stalls for those who have sold all their wares. The fruits at the stands look older and drier, with no new harvest to replace it.

There are also more irritable shoppers, more eager than ever to fight to the death over a turnip.

I notice the staring the second as I walk through the market, but it gets worse, the longer I stay. I glance around me catching a few of them in the act, and they don't look away either.

It's strange.

Even as a muzungu, I don't get much staring anymore, mostly because people are used to me.

And the staring I get is not like this, not this openly curious rather than suspicious or hostile.

Is it because they've seen me with Wolf?

Or perhaps because of the first trial?

As I walk the narrow path between two stalls, somebody catches my arm, and I stop to see a stooped-over elderly man smiling at me.

He presses an ear of corn into my basket and nods.

“Wonderful fight," he says, and the vendor in the stall beside him nods his agreement.

I blush. "Thank you," I duck my head, as I walk on, my heart warming each time my eyes are drawn to the corn.

It looks delicious but I won't eat it today, I know.

I will treasure it forever.

I head to the bakery, a tiny shack at the very end of the market. But just as I'm about to enter, I nearly collided with someone who was just leaving.

"My apologies–" The words freeze in my throat, as the scent hits me first before I look into the cool blue eyes.

Genya's eyes.