Spice and Wolf - Volume 11 - Chapter 2

THE WOLF AND THE VERDANT DETOUR

In the depths of the coldest season, there were sometimes warm days that made one think that spring had arrived—days without wind, when standing still in the sun’s rays could feel almost hot.

Such days made even merchants—for whom time was money—stop in their tracks or pull their wagons to the side of the road; find a field free of grazing cattle or sheep; and just lie in the grass, a bit of wine and rye bread at their side.

Gazing up at the blue sky, they’d wet their mouths with wine and take a bit of the bread—or perhaps even chewing was too much trouble, so they would fall asleep, mouths pathetically full of rye.

The blanket would soak up the sun’s rays and feel as warm as though the merchants were by a roaring fireplace, and the only sounds that reached one’s ears were birdsong and somehow the sound of the sunlight itself.

Only those who lived a life of travel could enjoy such moments.

And they were more than enough to inspire temptation.

It began with a map.

It was midmorning, the sun high enough to have burned away the urge to yawn, and Lawrence the traveling merchant, having grown weary of constant travel upon his horse-drawn wagon, opened up a map he rarely looked at.

He had bought the map dirt cheap some years previous, along with another map, which rather dubiously claimed to show the location of treasure. The treasure map was just as flimsy as its contents, its tattered paper ready to fall apart at any moment. The other map was sturdier, having been more practically inscribed on good parchment.

It was that map he held in his hand, casting his gaze eastward.

The road Lawrence and Holo were on ran alongside a forest for quite a long distance. Despite the road adjacent to it passing through mostly vegetation-free and featureless wilderness, the forest itself was thick and dark with trees year-round.

And yet even that thick forest had been cleared long ago to make room for the construction of a new town, Lawrence had heard, and now covered only half its original area. The map Lawrence held had been drawn when the forest was larger and showed just how great its former extent truly was.

“What is the matter?” asked Lawrence’s traveling companion, Holo, noticing Lawrence’s gaze as it traveled afield from her spot relaxing in the wagon bed.

Lawrence turned to see Holo dressed as a nun and reclining atop his cargo, her head tilted lazily in his direction.

“There’s a lumber mill here.”

“A lumber mill?”

“Or at least there used to be. A place where trees are cut down and their trunks made into lumber for building.”

But Lawrence’s interest wasn’t in the forest’s former grandeur. His gaze was on a road that led into the forest because at the end of that road, there was supposedly a grassy field.

“I see…and the lumber mill’s down that road?”

Lawrence looked back down at the map in his hands and explained, “On this side of the forest is a busy trade route that connects many towns and villages, and thanks to the constant sheep and cattle traffic, the land is totally barren, as you can see. But on the other side of the forest is a lush, fertile plain.”

“A lush plain, eh?” Holo didn’t bother sitting up and merely directed her voice at Lawrence.

“Apparently its face is thick with green grass even this time of year.”

Holo did not immediately reply.

Concerned, Lawrence looked back at her, whereupon he was met by her irritated expression.

“I am no sheep. Green grass is hardly cause for me to celebrate,” she said flatly.

Anyone happening to pass by the wagon would not have understood the true meaning of Holo’s words. But she was not merely being difficult for no reason.

Atop Holo’s head sat a pair of magnificent wolf ears that could never have belonged to any human, and from the base of her lower back grew a thickly furred tail that swished to and fro.

While she appeared to be a girl in her teens, her true form was that of a giant wolf that could swallow a man in a single bite.

Any who might have puzzled over her complaint would surely understand its full meaning once they saw her true nature.

“My apologies. But grass isn’t merely for eating, you know.”

“Mm?”

“With weather such as this, doesn’t the idea of basking in the sun on a grassy knoll hold a bit of appeal?”

Just then, Holo looked away. Immediately thereafter, her tail started to squirm in her hands. Given her abundant imagination, she could certainly reckon the ways a grassy field could be put to use.

So when she finally opened her mouth, the question Holo asked skipped over that matter entirely. “Were you not in a hurry?”

Merchants knew that time was money, and so a leisurely detour to bask in a sunny clearing was like a rope around the neck. But Holo was genuinely concerned with the possibility of holding their travels up, and her flattering gaze was enough to send any legendary emperor-seducing beauty running barefoot for the hills.

This treatment alone was quite refreshing. And Holo’s tail was even more honest than her lips.

As far as Lawrence was concerned, if the detour would make her this happy, then he cared little about the slight delay. Far from it—if some sun napping gave her this much pleasure, it was worth it and more.

The road had offered few pleasures, so a bit of good cheer was certainly called for.

“We need some rest to keep making efficient progress. Still, I don’t want to get your hopes too high…”

“What do you mean?”

Lawrence shook the map out and continued. “I don’t know how trustworthy the map is. If crossing the forest looks to be too much trouble, we’ll just give up.”

These would have been difficult words to deliver to a child, but fortunately he was addressing Holo the Wisewolf. She knew exactly what he was considering when he made a proposal like this one.

Holo had been lying on her back while grooming her tail, but she now rolled over and looked at Lawrence, her eyes upturned. “’Tis no concern at all—we’ll just have a nice nap in the shade.”

Just as Holo had imagined the grassy plain Lawrence described to her, Lawrence now pictured Holo’s words. It was certainly true that the idea of the two of them napping beneath the trees, leaved year-round and disturbed only by the softest murmur of a wind, was far from a bad one.

Lawrence pulled himself out of his imaginings and turned his attention back to Holo, who regarded him with a silent expression that said, “So, what say you?”

“Not bad.”

“Not bad at all!”

Lawrence put the map aside and took up the reins; Holo rolled over onto her back.

The wagon rolled steadily into the forest. It was a clear midmorning, now completely free of any yawning.

It appeared that someone was still using the road that led into the forest. Hunters, fruit gatherers, or possibly people hunting for wild honey or firewood. In any case, the road was well maintained, and the wagon traversed it easily.

The forest was just quiet enough and just noisy enough to feel just right for a pleasant detour.

Until they entered the forest, Holo kept her hands off of the wine, but soon she was enjoying it fully, the echoing birdsong a fine accompaniment.

Lawrence had of course long since surrendered to the spirit of the detour and was not at all angry. He’d occasionally look back to the wagon bed and warn Holo not to drink it all, but she would thrust the wineskin at him as though to bribe him—and it was a bribe he always took.

According to the map in his hand, the road they were on cut a thin line sideways through the forest. It was, in fact, the narrowest part of the forest that the road crossed, which made this the quickest way to cross through.

However, it often happened that roads deviated from what maps might claim, and after a stretch of steady progress, the road began to arc to the right.

This deviated from the map, but it didn’t seem like a newly built road that avoided a recently fallen tree blocking the old route. The road seemed to have always been this way. But since there was no fork or intersection, Lawrence saw no reason to hesitate.

He continued to guide the horse along the road.

“Aye, winter forests…,” said Holo suddenly from the wagon bed. “’Tis better to come in the early morning rather than midday.”

The road’s visibility was not good, and there was no telling when a wagon wheel might be stuck in a tree root or small stream, so Lawrence couldn’t spare a look back—but going by her tone, Holo was reasonably drunk.

“Why’s that?”

“Mm. Even a forest like this has some leaves that fall to the ground, does it not? Over the night they’ll become soaked with dew, which turns to mist in the morning sunlight. If we’d been able to get a breath of that…”

“…The misty air would be a delicious balm to our winter-parched lungs,” Lawrence finished, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at.

“For afternoon visits, summer is best. Rays of sunlight stream through the leaves and tickle one’s cheeks like the feathers of a songbird.”

“Too many flies in summer, though.”

Lawrence was a seasoned traveler himself and knew perfectly well the good and bad parts of forests in any season. He heard Holo’s ticklish laugh just as he had expected to. Unbidden, a vision of a sun-dappled Holo, flicking her tail to and fro to chase insects off her, rose in his mind.

“Still, forests are lovely places. We’ve been traveling across plains so much of late that…aah…aaahhh…so, aye…” Holo yawned. No doubt it would be time for her midday nap soon. Lawrence heard her rummage around for something—perhaps searching for a blanket.

The field they were seeking was still far away, so Lawrence had some choice words for his traveling companion, who was venturing to take an early nap.

“It’s not just forests, you know. There’s pleasure to be had on the plains, too.”

“…Oh, aye?”

“Long chats with one’s traveling companion, for one.”

Simply traveling across a plain when the weather was good could turn into a sort of test of endurance. And even if it weren’t, sitting in the driver’s seat, holding the reins while Holo napped in the wagon bed, wasn’t any fun for Lawrence.

Once he had finally ventured to speak his mind, the clever Holo seemed to realize what Lawrence was trying to say.

She popped up and rested her chin on the back of the driver’s seat and looked up at Lawrence with mischief in her eyes. “I’m a wolf, after all. Sadly I’ve no interest in conversation without any meat to it.”

It was a light jab, so Lawrence mildly returned it. “So you’re saying you want furious debate for dinner, then?”

Holo curled her lip up. “Furious, nay. I would hope for something more passionate.” Her eyes were half-closed, and she rubbed the base of her ear against Lawrence’s arm. It was often her way of tricking him into letting his guard down by making him wonder if she was drunk.

Lawrence decided to assume her ear was merely itchy.

“Passionate? Oh, you mean the sort of talk that makes one’s face blush?”

“Heh. Aye.”

If Holo had been a simple cat or dog, a thorough head rubbing and a piece of jerky would placate her, but unfortunately she was a wolf, who would easily devour him if he gave her the chance.

Lawrence raised his arm and slowly rested his elbow on Holo’s head. Holo soon growled her irritation and shot him a sharp glare.

“Just thinking about how much wine you’ve drunk is enough to make my face turn red.”

“…I haven’t had that much.”

Holo’s face would remain unaffected by wine for quite a while, so her appearance was largely unchanged. But she still didn’t enjoy being made roundabout fun of, so she slid out from under Lawrence’s elbow and rubbed her head.

“Make sure you save a bit for enjoying on the sunny field, eh?”

“I said I did not drink that much,” said Holo sulkily, withdrawing to the wagon bed and flopping roughly over to the side.

Lawrence got the feeling she was starting to become genuinely angry, so perhaps Holo really had been careful to spare Lawrence his share of the wine.

He did trust her, but perhaps she didn’t enjoy being doubted even in jest. Lawrence turned around to apologize and was immediately met by her ready gaze.

She’d been ready and waiting for him to turn around out of concern for her.

“’Tis true, though I do enjoy idle conversation. And my very favorite sort is…”

“…When you get to tease a poor traveling merchant?”

“Hmm? Oh, aye, that’s nice as well.”

The road continued to run through the forest, and Lawrence squinted ahead to see whether the field was approaching. He noticed that there seemed to be another road running alongside theirs, and a short distance ahead the two seemed to intersect.

Lawrence shrugged off Holo’s words and reached for the map, looking down at it intently. “So what is your favorite sort of conversation?” he asked, looking back and forth between the map and the road and trying to see past the trees.

Evidently the road Lawrence and Holo were currently on wasn’t the only one that crossed the forest—there were several others. And worse, they intersected each other in complicated ways.

Given that, Lawrence wondered if it might not be prudent to turn around and leave.

As he mulled it over, Lawrence felt eyes staring hard at the back of his neck, so he turned around.

“…At the very least, I have no great love for this sort of conversation,” said an irritated Holo, her tail switching in agitation.

For just a moment, Lawrence’s mind went white. Trifling conversations were similar to, albeit different from, perfunctory ones. Having gotten used to traveling alone, Lawrence had been careless.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologizing sincerely. “So, what is your favorite sort of conversation?” he asked again, which made Holo’s face turn instantly disbelieving.

“Am I a child?”

“Huh?”

“A conversation has a certain flow, does it not? Do you suppose that by simply asking me again, I’ll just happily answer you and that will be that?”

Immediately following Holo’s words, the wagon swayed dramatically as one of its wheels hit a tree root.

Lawrence hastily looked ahead, then turned back around to see Holo. She lay prone atop the cargo, as though about to sleep. She was not facing him.

“…”

Awkwardly, Lawrence faced forward, putting his hand to his forehead. This situation was unlike anything he’d dealt with back when his only conversation partner had been his horse. He considered how best to apologize, but was certain that no matter what he said, he’d only dig himself deeper into the mud.

Finally, he braced himself and spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The same words he’d said a moment earlier. Yet—conversation did have a flow.

“Hmph.” Her irritated snort was proof that she’d forgiven him. “So…when will we finally clear this forest?” The space between her words had probably been to put the wineskin to her lips. After all that, she still hadn’t revealed just what sort of idle conversation she preferred.

“They say the forest spirits can create new paths through the woods—I don’t suppose Holo the Wisewolf has any such abilities?”

“If this were a wheat field, it would not be impossible.”

“Oh, really? Now, that I’d like to see.”

“Perhaps if there’s an opportunity.” Holo’s tone was chilly, but if he was to object, it would only be cause for more retribution. Lawrence managed to choke back his retort.

“Still, this forest is strange.” The wagon swayed as they crossed an intersecting path.

“Strange in what way?”

“There are a lot of paths. Too many even for lumber harvesting.” Lawrence wondered if they ought to turn back before they got lost.

It was nearly midday, and once the sun passed its zenith, the shadows would shift.

He remembered the path so far, more or less, but the shifting shadows would change the landmarks, making it that much easier to become lost.

“…”

“What’s the matter?” Holo interrupted Lawrence’s musings. “Are we about to be lost?” She smirked a malicious smirk.

As a traveling merchant, Lawrence found himself irritated, even if this was a joke meant more as a friendly warning than anything else.

“We’ve come all this way and I remember our route, so it’s fine.” Lawrence knew he was being obstinate.

Whether or not Holo also knew that, she fell silent for a while, her tail swishing to and fro before she threw herself back atop the cargo.

“Aye, well, you’re the lifelong traveler, so.” She retracted her opinion—it was almost as though she was apologizing for her unsolicited question.

The wagon rattled along the road.

They continued to intersect paths, which wove this way and that but never opened to the clearing.

Time lazily passed by, and finally they found themselves at an intersection radiating paths in many directions.

Lawrence stopped the horse and cast his gaze skyward. It was just past noon—the perfect time for the hoped-for nap on the grass. Which of course meant that the longer it took to find the meadow, the less pleasant the nap would be.

Given the time necessary for the return trip, they would need to find the meadow very soon to make it worthwhile at all.

But having come so far on this detour, turning back now without even a glimpse of the meadow would be the height of foolishness. More than anything, he was feeling foolish for having ignored Holo’s warning.

“…”

Lawrence sat in silent contemplation in the driver’s seat. The horse was stopped, and having him start walking again was the furthest thing from Lawrence’s mind.

It was clear that the rational thing to do would be to turn around rather than continuing on. And yet if he suggested turning back here, there was no telling what Holo would say. He knew it was his pride talking, but some part of him resisted simply choking it down.

Whether or not she was aware of Lawrence’s conflict, Holo’s tail wagged back and forth. It was an obvious provocation.

Lawrence gripped the reins as though to continue onward, but then the realization hit him. What if he forged ahead only to become truly lost?

“…”

They would have to turn back. Then immediately after Lawrence came to his decision—

“Hmm. Goodness, but you’re adorable,” said Holo from behind him, chin propped on the back of the driver’s seat. “I wonder how much worse ’twould be if you had ears and a tail like mine.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve never seen a male quite so transparent as you.”

“What?” Lawrence retorted, a hint of irritation mixed into his voice, which made Holo sit up and bring her face closer. The quality of her smile changed as Lawrence couldn’t help but flinch away.

“After kicking aside my warning, you can’t very well suggest we turn back, and yet continuing on could be dangerous. So, what to do?”

Bull’s-eye.

Lawrence looked away, which brought Holo’s still-grinning face even closer. “Your tiresome stubbornness is only too obvious.”

Holo, the self-proclaimed wisewolf, had lived for centuries. Her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, which only heightened Lawrence’s desire to escape.

But the driver’s seat was cramped.

He faced Holo’s amber eyes, keen and penetrating like a fortune-teller’s.

“And yet…” Holo then continued, her tone almost disappointingly gentle. She’d been close enough to devour him headfirst but suddenly pulled back.

Unable to follow her rapidly changing demeanor, Lawrence could only stare vaguely at her as she sat atop the back of the driver’s seat.

“And yet when I wonder why you’re so stubborn, I can hardly find it within myself to be angry.”

From her perch atop the seat back, she was in a position to look down at Lawrence. It was the reverse of the usual situation, and Holo’s attitude was frustratingly high-and-mighty.

“You’re trying to get the advantage of me, even if it’s a reach, aren’t you? You’re like a child. How can I be mad at a child?”

If she’d been mocking him, then he might have had some recourse.

But in trying to refute Holo, Lawrence had failed like a little boy. And she simply smiled down at him without rancor or excitement, like a benevolent elder sister.

In a situation like this, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. And she’d been dead-on accurate, so there was nowhere to run.

“Your problem is this,” Holo said conversationally as she hopped down to sit properly in the seat. Having done so, the difference in their heights meant that she now looked up at him. “You decide everything on a set of scales.”

“…Scales?”

“Aye. Which side is heavier, which is higher or lower. It’s no good, looking to that to the exclusion of all else. It might be right for a merchant, but…”

A rustling sound arose as Holo reached back to take hold of the blanket in the wagon bed, then pulled it forward. Once she finished wrapping herself in it, she then lightly smacked Lawrence’s hand, which still held the reins.

“Just how long do you plan on holding those reins for?”

“…Huh? I mean, we’ll have to turn back here, so…,” said Lawrence guardedly, since he didn’t understand what Holo was getting at.

Holo’s face turned immediately incredulous. “Honestly…It’s just as I said, is it not? What you need is a better instinct for a conversation’s flow.”

It was true that she’d said as much. But what did that have to do with him taking up the reins? Lawrence started to wonder if she had again cast him into some elaborate trap—but then he realized his misapprehension. “Ah!”

“Huh. So you’ve finally hit upon it, have you?”

He had no retort. He had only to follow the thread of their conversation up until a moment ago, and it was simple. Considering the exchange he’d had with Holo just before they entered the forest, it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“If you’d only done as much from the start—but no, you just had to work your way in deeper. It’s not my cleverness that makes it so simple for me to trip you up, but rather your foolishness.”

Lawrence dropped the reins at her insistence, opening and closing his now-empty hands. Having had it pointed out to him, it was obvious, and yet he had never realized it.

“So you’ve understood that there’s no need to seek this meadow in order to cheer me up, aye?” She flicked the blanket open with a flourish and adroitly wrapped it around both herself and Lawrence.

That, too, had been a misunderstanding. What had Holo said she enjoyed about travel?

“You mean your favorite sort of idle chatter?”

“Aye. If you’d only thought to confirm that, not only would you not have need to make a meadow detour, you’d have been able to quite thoroughly cheer me up.” Holo’s tone was very amused.

No doubt she was very amused. She had bested him, after all.

“So, what is your favorite way to converse?” asked Lawrence. Immediately thereafter, his eye widened in surprise—Holo seemed neither angry nor exasperated. She neither scorned him nor mocked him. At Lawrence’s question, she seemed actually embarrassed.

“Heh-heh…to be quite honest, I’d never be able to admit it if the conversation had not come to this place,” she said, looking down bashfully, her voice ticklish as she giggled to herself.

If her favorite sort of conversation was indeed something so embarrassing, then this was surely the best time to admit it—she had the overwhelming advantage now.

No matter what she said, it could be forgiven.

“What I like best is…falling asleep while talking like this. Just drifting off to the sound of idle conversation…”

She was so self-conscious at this last part that she looked away when she finished speaking. And it was true, falling asleep to conversation was not so very different from falling asleep to a lullaby.

And now that Lawrence thought about it, this had happened before. Holo often drifted to sleep while they talked.

Lawrence had always attributed that to her selfishness, never dreaming that this was the truth.

He peered at Holo’s turned-away face, imagining that if this was no joke, then she would be blushing red.

“So—rather foolish, eh?”

“…Unfortunately, yes.”

Holo looked back at him, eyes resentful as she bumped her head into his shoulder. “Yet who is it that holds the advantage here?”

It hardly needed to be said who was the greater fool. If he’d asked this of her before, Lawrence would have the advantage over Holo.

There would have been no need to fixate on the meadow nor to be so pointlessly stubborn. Indeed, it might have been Holo who turned stubborn. But Holo had discerned the conversational flow more clearly, and so she was the victor.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?”

“I should say not.” Holo shifted under the blanket. Her ears twitched, and Lawrence heard her yawn. “Come now…I told you what sort of conversation I like—so will you not speak?”

She wheedled like a child, despite still holding the reins. Though Lawrence found this rather frustrating, he knew there was no cause for him to resent her. With nothing else to say, he turned the conversation to their dinner menu.

As usual, they were limited to bland bread and jerky, along with some dried fruit. If they foraged in the forest, it was possible they might catch a quail or rabbit, though, and Lawrence had to laugh at the way Holo’s ears perked up at the mention of this.

They continued to share idle conversation, and eventually Lawrence heard the sound of Holo’s sleeping breath. It was as though having toyed so thoroughly with him, the wolf had grown tired from play. When he looked at her, Lawrence wondered if he would ever become clever enough to gain the conversational advantage from Holo.

It wasn’t as warm as the meadow might have been, but nothing was so comfortable as being under the blanket, as long as two people were there together. And all the more so when the other person was Holo, whose body temperature was slightly warmer than his, like a child’s would be.

Yet he could scarcely believe how blameless she looked while sleeping. It was as though he could pinch her nose without her awakening or stick his finger into the downy fur inside her ears. Having suffered at her hands so much, Lawrence toyed with the notion of revenge as he regarded her innocent face.

And then it was as though God had heard his plea.

She seemed about to fall over, so as Lawrence moved to support her, he made his gentle counterattack.

He wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders, as if to say, “I am your guardian, you know.” Then the moment he closed his own eyes—

“You pass.”

Upon hearing Holo’s quiet voice, he froze. This was where the whole conversation had been leading all along.

Holo looked up slightly and smiled a devilish smile, her fangs glinting beneath her lips.

“’Tis best to leave your snare at the base of a waterfall.”

Lawrence couldn’t help but finish the statement. “And the foolish fish will swim right into it.”

Holo nodded and snickered.

Lawrence rolled his eyes upward, taking his arm from around her shoulders and wrapping it gently around her neck out of sheer frustration. Holo’s tail wagged happily.

He was such a fool. Truly a fool.

For a merchant, taking an indulgent detour like this was like tying a noose around his own neck. The victor had been decided the moment he’d taken this rash course of action.

And who was it that held the other end of the rope he’d so happily tied around his neck? The answer was obvious.

Exhausted, Lawrence slumped over, resting his own head on Holo’s, as though to say, “This particular conversation should end here.”

End.