Luckily, the almond-colored woman’s pack was not very far from the trading camps—which had been the intention of Cercatori d’Arte from the get-go, he knew. Still, it was nice to see the Vináttan territory rising up before them, laying claim to an old commune from the time of the humans. The scent of the borders marked the place as strong despite being a neonatal pack, and he made a note to return to check the place out and make connections if fate allowed it.

Right now, however, the merchant’s task was to finish the trade. He had left Wilson behind at the camp to watch over his things and guard the remaining kittens, while the little black tom that Grace had chosen was trapped against his chest. He had his satchel slung over his shoulder; it contained the garlic paper that was the other part of his half of the trade, as well as other miscellaneous goods in case he ran into another Vináttan who wanted to do business.

He was happy, though, murmuring sweetly to the kitten to keep it from wriggling before offering it to Grace midway through the journey, knowing she’d probably want to bond with it. He’d be glad to do the same with the horse she’d mentioned, too; although they were trading out some of their own equines, a fresh one might do the pack good—or it could become his own personal mount, depending on if anyone else wanted her.

Word Count :: 398 It was not nonsense. >

Levent conversed easily with Grace, hesitating only a second before she welcomed him into the territory; they would have to cut past the Vináttan village to reach the stables, she’d mentioned. What he could see of said village looked extremely charming; the houses were built into the hills in places, and the whole place felt like it belonged in an English storybook. He half expected for a dragon to come flying overhead and cause the place to deflagrate.

It wasn’t too much longer before they reached the stables, however. He made small talk with some of the stalled horses until Grace led a gorgeous paint mare out. His jaw slackened at the sight of her white-splashed hide and the blue eye peering curiously at him, and he was barely audible when he mumbled a horsey greeting to her, coming up to make friends and offer her his scent. When it seemed like she wouldn’t try to trample him into the ground, he began to poke about her, although he doubted a gorgeous creature such as this was lamed. She seemed well-cared for, on the contrary, and he was beginning to wonder if he was lucking out on this bargain.

At that point, Mai decided she had enough of him where she couldn’t see him, and she reached around to give him a nip.

“Bu sadece bizim ilk tarihi, bayan,” Levent reprimanded, adding a few words that the horse could actually understand. He didn’t mind, though, and decided that a horse with a tendency to favor her teeth was worth an adorable kitten and some garlic paper. He threw Grace an amused look to show that he wasn’t mad, until Grace looked up and greeted a pair of newcomers.

Levent turned, already falling into his usual careless posture as his usual merchant’s smile leaped to his lips. A slim, somewhat ’yotish dark she-wolf and her handsome brindle dog companion stood there, and he bowed to them immediately. “I do,” he said in answer to the dreadlocked woman, before smiling at the newcomers. “Would any of that interest you, milady? You’re a cartographer?” He blinked and grinned, showing a few more of his teeth. “Excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Levent Kartal, a merchant from Cercatori d’Arte, which is in the south; we’ve sailed over to trade.” His accent was strong, his gestures colorful, just as he liked.

Word Count :: 391 It was not nonsense. >

The young, dark wolf seemed less than thrilled about the situation, whatever this situation truly was, but Levent did not let on that he noticed. He only grinned his usual flamboyant grin, taking his eyes off the newcomers to bade Grace farewell and give her a friendly tip about the kitten. When he looked back to the wolf hybrids, he noticed a lynx circling around her ankles. Much of him wished to get to the feline’s level and talk to it, completely interested, but he knew that trading was more important than building a friendship with someone’s pet.

The other Vináttans introduced themselves as Nahyt and Hael Savin, apparently siblings. Levent resisted the urge to lift a brow at that claim. He knew that hybrid blood could show itself in many ways, but the pair looked starkly different from each other, and he was more than a little dubious. Maybe they were adopted. It was none of his business, however, and he only dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Nahyt spoke quietly and shortly, while Hael seemed more forthcoming with his speech, so Levent directed his smiles there. That, and his British accent was music to his ears; it reminded Lev of the city he’d called home for much of his life, and his mother, and Wilson too, of course.

“I have many writing supplies with me,” Levent answered. He kept a hand on the mare’s lead as he spoke, ever mindful of her, his movements slower and more careful now that her former owner had left. “Garlic paper, paintbrushes, and other wooden tools too.” He gestured to the bundle he’d managed to bring with him, all in his satchel, trusting them to pick it up; he didn’t want to risk Mai running off when he’d just gotten her.

He had an idea of what he might want in return, too, and his smile softened a bit as he looked at the young woman. “Maybe I could have one of your maps in return, if any of this interests you? I might need something else depending on how much you want and what’s in the map, but as a start?” It was more gentle bargaining than he was used to back in Europe, but he already knew the culture of these western pack wolves would force him to relearn how to haggle.