Chapter 100: Her Husband Had One Opinion About Green

The replacement crates arrived after breakfast, carried by Saffra’s followers rather than paid for with another trader’s things. Dove watched the keeper check them against the owners’ claims. Nobody cheered, but the workmen went back to loading, which pleased her more than a speech would have.

Saffra stayed in the guest shed. According to the man collecting hot water, three baths had done nothing. Dove gave him two clean cloths at their usual price and kept her face straight until he left.

"Customer satisfaction appears high," Sprout said. Dove watched another man leave Saffra’s shed with his sleeve over his nose. "Mine is excellent. Stop talking before I remember the price."

Her Day Forty-Four wash left the familiar clean scent on her skin, but the white fur on her ears still spoiled the disguise whenever her cap slipped. She stood in the rear room with a mirror in one hand and her tail cover in the other, wondering whether ordinary hair dye would ever behave properly on the whole thing.

Sprout displayed a small gold pill. Forty Favor changed hair and fur to one chosen color, including the tail and ears. New growth would keep its natural shade. It would not change her face, build, voice, or the scent people remembered.

"Any color?" Dove asked. Thorne looked over from fastening his boots. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he was already studying her expression.

"If you’re asking me, still not green."

"I wasn’t asking permission, handsome."

"I know. I’m begging before you get ideas."

She laughed and paid the forty Favor. Honey blonde, she decided, to match the loose waves she’d been wearing since the hair-supply shop. No surprise rainbow tail, no dramatic new identity, just one less white patch announcing her from across a yard.

She took it with water while Thorne stayed beside her. The color changed slowly enough that she could watch the white tips of her ears warm toward gold in the mirror. Her tail followed, soft pale fur becoming the same shade as her hair.

For a moment she simply turned, looking at the whole result. She hadn’t realized how much she disliked tugging the cover back into place whenever somebody came near.

Thorne held the mirror higher when her arm tired. "There you are."

"I was here before," she said. Thorne smiled at her reflection. "Yes, but now you’re smiling at yourself instead of fighting your hat."

She leaned into his side and turned her head, watching her golden ears follow the movement in the mirror. Thorne lowered it so she could see her tail too. "All that fussing with dye, and you could’ve just swallowed a pill," he said. Dove elbowed him gently. "I was enjoying this. You were doing so well being quiet."

Edrik knocked before entering with breakfast. He stopped beside the doorway, taking in the uncovered ears and tail, then the pleased look she hadn’t managed to hide.

"Well?" she asked. "If you say I look like a different woman, you’re eating alone."

"You look like you can stop checking behind your head every time the wind blows." He set the plates down. "I liked watching you yesterday. I expect I’ll manage today."

She rolled her eyes, but warmth spread into her cheeks anyway. Edrik noticed and wisely chose his sandwich over a victory speech.

Their breakfast held thick ham-and-egg sandwiches, fried potatoes, and apple slices. Dove ate sitting down while Thorne brushed the end of her tail where the cover had flattened it. Edrik watched his hands with an interest that had nothing to do with grooming advice.

"You can ask," she told him. He waited until she offered the brush. Then he took over gently, working from the tips instead of dragging through the knots. She kept eating, absurdly pleased by having two dangerous men argue quietly over who had missed a tangle.

Sprout counted their amusement once she had stopped laughing. Today’s stock was four packs of reusable ice blocks, empty until filled and frozen. Three sales would earn the reward. Could she freeze them herself? Sprout offered no new way to make ice. Dove opened a pack and set the weatherproof storage box offer aside. She needed customers who already had a cold enough place to use them.

Dove made the limitation clear to every customer. The packs didn’t create ice, and she wasn’t selling a cure for the warm weather. Men with access to colder stores still wanted them, and the cook bought one pack to separate chilled supplies from melted water.

She sold all four for shelf-stable milk, beans, kitchen towels, and a bag of rice. No unit remained to keep or return. With sales and her active practice, her normal purse reached one hundred eighty-eight. She stored the towels and left the expensive box where it belonged, on Sprout’s screen.

Outside, people stared at her uncovered hair and ears. A visitor offered her a silver chain; another forgot his question after she leaned across the counter for his change in goods. Thorne stayed close enough to catch the visitor’s wandering gaze and growl him back toward his rice.

Dove thanked her husband with a hand against his cheek, then finished the sale herself.

While Thorne helped a customer lift a crate, Edrik held the little mirror for Dove. She lifted an ear, checking the fur beneath it, then caught the bear watching her reflection instead of the patch she couldn’t see. His eyes met hers in the glass. He didn’t even have the decency to look caught.

"You can tell me if I missed a patch," she said.

"I was looking at your face," he said. Dove rolled her eyes, hoping he couldn’t see how pleased she was. "That wasn’t the assignment." He smiled. "No. It was what I wanted."

She took the mirror back before he could enjoy the heat in her cheeks for another minute, but she stayed beside him until Thorne returned.

Near closing, the radio buyer returned to ask whether she wanted a place on the higher-ground trip. He knew the organizer and could help load their things. Dove accepted the offer to introduce them properly, not a promise about their route.

Then the man looked at Thorne and grinned. "Easy enough to find you anywhere. How many black panthers do we have?"

Dove’s hand stopped on the brush she was putting away. Her ears matched, her tail matched, and the wanted description no longer fit at a glance. Beside her stood the only black panther people knew how to name.

She had known that since the garage. Hearing a customer casually offer it as directions made the danger harder to ignore. She looked at Thorne. Before they left, they needed to decide what they would tell people about their route.