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Cull didn’t mention the kiss for the rest of the day. He left and went into the woods as he so often did, and sat silently through their shared dinner. Was he looking at Parton more often than normal? What did it mean if he did? Parton was afraid to ask, afraid to find out that the answer might be that Cull was staring at him because he felt uncomfortable. Perhaps the kiss had been terrible. Perhaps Cull regretted it. Perhaps he felt disgusted that he’d indulged in Parton’s whims.
Or was he thinking about kissing him again?
Some piece of Parton expected it to happen again, wanted more kisses, more touches, more moments of connectedness, like when they’d worked together to fix the roof. But those moments didn’t come, and Parton was forced to accept that the kiss hadn’t meant the start of something.
When Cull left after dinner, gone into the woods to transform as usual, Parton found himself staring at the empty bed, wondering what he should do. If he stopped sharing Cull’s bed, then that was an acknowledgement that the kiss had changed something between them, and not in a good way. Would Cull feel hurt and rejected if Parton went back to sleeping on the floor? Would he prefer him to?
In the end, exhaustion made the decision for him and Parton lay down on the bed just so that he could get a better rest. He told himself that if Cull minded the sharing, he would say something in the morning, or let Parton know by refusing to get into the same bed as him. For now, Parton had the bed and the cabin to himself, so it seemed foolish to waste the slightly more comfortable sleeping arrangements. As he closed his eyes, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for: a future of more kisses, or a return to the comfortable companionship they had been forming before Parton’s desires had disrupted things.
Cull didn’t mention the kiss the next day or in the days that followed. He seemed eager to pretend it had never happened, but for Parton, the memory of it was like a blazing fire in his mind, consuming all other thoughts. No matter how he tried to distract himself with chores and preparation, the thought of Cull’s lips softly brushing against his own intruded.
Cull also didn’t question the continued sharing of the bed. Each morning, Parton would wake to find Cull beside him in the bed, their bodies pressed together, a thin layer of blanket between them, and he would have to remind himself that one kiss didn’t grant him permission to stare at Cull’s bare skin, to touch him the way he wanted to, to lean in and press a kiss to the bend where shoulder became neck, the way he longed to, despite the whisper of Corron’s voice in his thoughts that he shouldn’t want such things. They shared a bed because of practicality. Cull had kissed him to demonstrate that he didn’t hate him for liking other men. That was all.
So Parton would fall asleep in the empty bed each night and in the morning try to extract himself without looking too long, and without waking Cull up enough to notice the effect the closeness had on him. Some mornings, Parton was surprised the bedsheets didn’t catch fire with the heat of his desire, but Cull slept on, exhausted by his nights in his beast form, and thankfully didn’t appear to notice.
If Cull had wanted the kiss to become something more, he would have said something, and Parton was still afraid to lose the fragile peace between them, so he held his tongue too. He would accept friendship and comfort if that was all Cull was offering, and try to push the other thoughts aside. Parton pushed himself into preparing for the trip to the market, trying to think only of the practicalities.
The night they would be travelling to the market, Parton got everything ready. They would be taking rush baskets full of beans and plums, along with bundles of furs from Cull's hunting. He had killed a deer, skinned it and cleaned its hide, preparing it for sale along with the furs of several rabbits. The challenge would be carrying everything there on Cull's back. Parton put the basket of beans into his backpack, since it was less likely to cause a mess than the plums, along with a change of clothes for Cull. He placed the fur bundle over the top of the plum basket and used nettle cord to tie it in place, which should prevent any plums falling out, though it was impossible to tie the cord tightly without squashing the basket and its contents. It would be difficult for Parton to hold on to their goods and hold on to Cull's back, so he implored Cull to go slowly.
Parton would also be taking the money he'd brought with him from his house. He had a very long list of things that they needed if they were to survive a winter here, and probably about enough money to buy half of it. He had to hope that they would get a good price for their goods, because otherwise they would be in trouble.
He went to sleep still worrying about that and was nuzzled awake a short while later, yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. Parton managed not to yell this time. He rolled out of bed to pull on the old boots that were one of things he needed to deal with today. The hole was getting more noticeable with each day that passed.
Parton pulled on his pack and positioned himself on Cull's back, arms around the items in front of him, trying to get a grip on Cull's fur without losing his hold on the basket. He sank his fingers into the softness of Cull’s fur, unable to keep himself from thinking that it would be nice to be allowed to touch his hair in the same way in his other form. The thought of the kiss returned and made this ride feel so much more intimate than their previous journeys together. Parton tried to push the thought aside.
"I'm ready," he said, and Cull set off at a steady pace into the trees.
Cull did so more carefully than on their previous journeys, and he kept to clearer routes because Parton didn't have a hand free to deal with low branches. After a while, he brought them through a gap in the trees and onto a rough road. This was the point that made Parton really worried—more than the anxiety from the ride and the knowledge that dropping something would mean even less money to spend on survival, because now they were out in the open. What if someone saw them?
He knew that it was unlikely that anyone would be travelling the road this late at night, but it was possible that someone might have camped by the side of the road on their way to Barnbridge or somewhere else. If someone woke up at the wrong moment to relieve themselves, they might see a man riding a monster through the forest.
Parton tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, since people already believed that this forest was inhabited by monsters, and the people of Shrind had already been convinced by Corron that he was in league with them, but there was a difference between a rumour and people seeing it with their own eyes.
Thankfully, though, the road was deserted, and soon they passed the mile marker announcing that Barnbridge was near. Shortly after that, Cull brought them off the road again and into a dense cluster of trees. Parton climbed down from Cull's back and took the clothes out of his pack, leaving them on the ground in the patch of trees along with the bundle of furs. Even without words, Cull was able to send a clear message with a stern look and a jerk of his head that he wanted Parton to leave. Curious as he was to see what the transformation was like, Parton picked up the basket of plums and walked back towards the road. He sat down on a convenient rock and waited for daybreak.
A short while later, Cull emerged again, human formed and fully dressed, and they walked together along the road towards Barnbridge.
"Why don't you let me see you transform?" Parton asked.
"It's not a pretty experience," Cull answered.
"Does it hurt?"
There was a moment of hesitation before Cull said, "Not exactly."
Parton let the subject drop as they crested a rise and saw the first houses of the small town. The market square was easy to find, partly because it was near the centre of the town but mostly because every person they saw emerging from the buildings seemed to be heading in that same direction. There were stallholders busy laying out their wares and locals trying to get the best produce before it was bought by those who travelled in from further afield. It was quiet enough at this early hour, but after so long with only Cull for company, this many people seemed like a horde. As people erected shelves or hung goods overhead, it was difficult to see from one side of the square to the other, but Parton could see one woman laying out baskets and crates of vegetables. She wouldn't be the only one, but Cull might have to hunt a little harder for someone interested in furs.
"Meet back here after we've sold everything," Cull said.
Parton nodded. He was a little hesitant about being alone surrounded by strangers, but he didn't want Cull to think him weak, so he headed towards the woman with the vegetables.
"Are you buying?" he asked. "Plums and beans."
"I have plenty of beans," she said, indicating a huge mound, "but let's see those plums."
She said that they were overripe and offered a single copper for the whole basket. Parton countered that they were juicy and ready for eating and that she could easily sell them at two for a copper and so she should offer a lot more. They went back and forth a few times, and Parton wished he were better as these negotiations. His grandmother would have been severe and determined and walked away with at least ten coppers, but Parton had to settle for six. He walked on through the stalls, finding that people other than him must have also had a good crop of beans because there were plenty for sale on all the vegetable stalls. He found one man who was willing to take them, but he refused to be haggled up and given that there would be no one else interested in buying them, Parton was forced to accept the pitiful two coppers for the whole basket. It was that or spend the morning trying to sell beans to passers-by.
He hoped Cull had done better, as the list of things they needed was far too long for a few coppers to make much of a dent. He turned away from the stall to go and find Cull, only to nearly collide with a man hauling bushels of wheat between the stalls.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Parton started, then he froze, staring at a familiar face. Horror surged through him, and his feet were frozen on the cobbles in fear.
Halt, a farmhand from his own village and one of those who'd dragged Parton into the woods with Corron, stared at him with equal surprise on his face.
