When I first came to Stormwind, I had grand ideas about leading my own pack, not relying on anyone else. Life has its own way of changing things. I guess in some ways I’ve got what I wanted — I do stand on my own, but I rely on others far more than I’d like to admit. And I do have a pack, small and broken that it might be right now. Most of them don’t like each other, either. Last time we spoke, I told Josie that it was all so complicated. I don’t know how to make it simpler.
At least things are all right on the business end of things. I don’t know how the elf does everything, I suspect he doesn’t sleep, but most mornings I find him sleeping. Maybe he’s like a cat, stealing a few minutes now and then. More likely all the work helps distract him from everything else. I know how that is. In the early morning he manages the shipments, then he’ll usually slip out for one of his “walks”. Those are a recent thing, I gave him the list of names from the Gilnean man, and he’s chosen one to observe. The target spends most of his time in the more expensive parts of the city, where someone like the Harrier would surely be noticed. Part of me dreads the day that the guards come knocking at the shop’s door, but part of me knows that would never happen. Not unless Pup followed him.
I can’t keep him trapped in his room, but I can’t stand him sneaking out either. He’s not the elf, he’s just a kid, but old enough that the guards won’t be charmed by his clumsy attempts at roof-climbing and pocket-picking. It’s as if he can sense the tension in the air, and he’s suddenly become a great deal more defiant and surly, or maybe it’s just that he’s finally reached that age — when boys go from boys to impossible. It isn’t Josie’s fault. She’s been teaching him more words and numbers, he’s on to doing some adding and subtracting now, though he often has to use his fingers to count. We’ve both agreed to take him to the schoolhouse in the fall when lessons start again. I suppose we’d better find out his name, or come up with one. We can’t very well write “Pup” on his registration — even if that’s how he signs his papers. But the elf’s teaching him too, and those lessons are sticking even better. Pup idolizes him, and I’m certain that when he unlatches his window and wiggles out, he’s going to join the elf on his lonely rooftops. I’ve spoken to him about it, and the elf says he has too — I believe that actually, he wouldn’t want Pup getting collared any more than I do. But I suppose Pup hears what he wants.
The rest of the time, he’s in his workshop, making clock bits and the little mechanical animals. I know he made a bird for Josie not long ago, but I haven’t seen him make any since then. I try to speak with him about it, but it’s like trying to reason with the wall. Josie says she doesn’t know what he wants her to do. I do, but I’m not about to tell her to do it. In many ways, he’s different from the human men I’ve known, but not in all ways. The fact that he really has no claim to her hasn’t diminished his jealousy much.
Of course, I’d prefer that everything was perfect between them, my daydreams of our cozy little home where everyone got along, and I didn’t have to be caught between anyone. The other night, Josie sat on the bench with me and we talked. I dare say it was almost perfect then, except I kept getting caught on my own tongue and saying the wrong things. She was wearing the dress that I got for her last winter. I hadn’t seen her wear it in so long, and it looks so beautiful on her. It’s perfect for the summer, because it hasn’t any sleeves, and I think that’s how I began. Something about wasn’t Stormwind awfully hot, and Gilneas wasn’t so, was it? I wanted to tell her that I’d never force her to stay, which she took to mean that she ought to go away, but that wasn’t what I meant at all. I asked cautiously about her elf, but she says there isn’t anything. I’m not so sure. I don’t mind him around, I do think he’s a strange choice but I can hardly hold her curiosity about an elf man against her, can I? My only fear is that she’ll move somewhere far away with him, and then I won’t see her again. She’s gone with him to Dalaran, which seems impossibly far away. I know the mages can make portals, but I’m not sure I trust them entirely — the portals, that is. They all want to lock you away in a cage, I reminded her. Where no one else can see you. I’m not like that, I try to reassure myself, not at all. I remember all of those hot, bitter tears when she went with Kor. It’s not entirely true. I am like them, a little bit.
But I think she trusts me, and even more importantly, I think she likes me. She wants to go run in the woods again, just us two, and I said we could find a place to stay out there, like real wolves. I thought the idea was charming, but she gave me a strange look when I said that. Maybe it was the wrong thing. She asked if there had been ladies who worked in the house in Gilneas, and I said there were. Girls who helped with the washing, and with the cooking, and my dressing-maid. I was relieved that she didn’t ask too much about that, though she asked what a lady’s maid would do. She’d help me dress of course, and with my hair. Josie smiled at that, and she said she’d like to do that one day. I want to tell her that she isn’t my maid, here I’m no more a lady than she is, but the idea is so appealing that I can’t help but agree to it.
I promised to leave her little notes, I found a hatbox in my room that was a pretty pale blue. I set it underneath the bench where it isn’t likely that anyone would notice it — besides her. I’ve only left a few so far, but every time I open the lid to put another in, the box is empty. I hope that they make her smile.