dropped the animal to the ground. Without warning, she grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him to her, pressing her ear against his chest. The illusion of separation disappeared and the Shepherd was back in his skin, his limbs shaking. He’d never been this close to a woman in his life. The softness of the girl took his breath away.
“I can feel your heart,” she said. “It’s beating really fast.”
She leaned her head back and stared up at him. The Shepherd could neither move nor speak, trapped between the warmth of her body and the chill of her eyes.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she murmured. “Why is that, Shepherd? You saw me kill the Sorcerer. Didn’t you?”
Her words cut to his soul. In his mind, he saw a shroud held out for him by the Angel of Death. For a moment, he felt like he’d turned to stone. Then his knees buckled.
The Shepherd collapsed to the ground and started to cry.
The girl ran her fingers through his hair. He found the gesture terrifying and soothing at once. He had no words to plead for mercy and his heart pounded. The girl came down and knelt before the Shepherd, holding his face and wiping his tears. Then she lay back upon the ground and pulled him with her, resting his head against her breast.
She kept stroking his hair, his scalp tingling from the brush of her fingers, the vibration of her voice against his cheek.
“So, tell me Shepherd. What do you feel? What do you hear?”
His heart stopped beating for an instant when he realized that all he heard inside the girl was silence. The Shepherd pulled his head up and stared at her.
“Nothing, Miss.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m a girl who can live without her heart.”
Then she pushed him to the ground and rolled him on his back. Nestling along his side, she laid her head on his chest and sighed, her breath seeping into him. The Shepherd didn’t resist when the girl took his hand and brought it to his neck, pressing his fingers into the groove where his heart echoed. His pulse beat into the tips of his fingers and reverberated through him. And when the girl spoke again, her whisper felt like a caress.
“Listen to your heart,” she said.
****
The Shepherd trailed off, his eyes glazed over as he remembered that long ago night. The Wolf rested on his belly, his forelegs stretched out, blinking when the story came to its close. He shifted his weight and found his limbs were stiff, but the Shepherd remained lost in reverie.
“So then what happened?” the Wolf asked.
The Shepherd started and glanced at him with an expression of mild surprise.
Then he shook his head, pausing for another moment before he spoke.
“I must have fallen asleep. Next thing I remember I woke up and she was gone.”
The Wolf had hoped to have his peace of mind restored from the Shepherd’s story; but there was no relief from the throbbing in his hollow or from his doubt. His belly ached when he looked at the Shepherd, this friend he cherished more than any he’d ever known.
“How could you not tell me about this?”
“As I said, that night was thirty years ago. Why would I?”
“Stop using time as an excuse,” the Wolf retorted. “I’m twenty six and I’ve heard stories about her since I was five years old. Eternal youth is part of her legend.”
“If I remember correctly,” the Shepherd said. “For a long time you believed Ella Bandita was nothing more than a legend. Did the thought occur to you I didn’t believe it either?”
“But for three years, you knew otherwise. Why did you keep this from me?”
The Shepherd sighed, and closed his eyes. He was quiet for a few minutes before looking back at the Wolf and nodding.
“I always have suspected that girl was Ella Bandita, ever since the stories about her began. But in my heart, I hoped that she wasn’t.”
The Wolf couldn’t say anything. His range of vision narrowed on the Shepherd, who now seemed far away. The implication behind what was just said