A Short Leash by Loki Renard Page B

could scent that what he was saying was true. Being a wild one, her senses were more keenly attuned to nature than citizens’ senses. They may as well have been blind, deaf, and dumb compared to a wild one. To a citizen the shimmering fence was probably hidden in the greenery, but to her it stood out like a sore thumb.
    Sierra stood very still, drinking in the wonders of that outdoor space. She thought she could smell rabbits, foxes… and something else… something she couldn’t quite place. The smile faded as she realized she didn’t know.
    “I can’t… why… I can’t scent the…”
    “It’s alright,” Kade said, putting his hand on her shoulders. “You were incarcerated for a year. Your wild senses have diminished. They will return in time and with practice. Don’t worry.”
    “Don’t worry?” Sierra’s voice rose to a panicked pitch. “I might as well be blind! I can’t scent anything. Some rabbits, that’s it!”
    “The enclosure contains a lot of animals,” Kade said. “No large predators, but there are plenty of medium-sized equally dangerous ones, and serpents too. For the moment, I want you to stay in this garden, away from the animals. It has been a long time since you were allowed into the wilds and it’s likely that your body isn’t as strong as your mind anymore.”
    “I am strong!”
    “I’m not saying you aren’t,” he explained patiently. “I’m saying you’re used to being able to run almost as fast as a gazelle, climb as adeptly as a monkey, and fight with all the fierceness of a tiger. But you just spent a year in confinement without proper nourishment. Your muscles will not be what they once were. It will take months to restore their old strength.”
    Sierra looked at him doubtfully. She felt strong. Weeks of good food and relaxation had left her feeling very well. How dare he say that she was no longer fast or agile or able to take down prey? She would show him.
    There was a large tree next to the house. It stood twenty times taller than Sierra at least and was clothed in thick branches covered in smooth bark. To a citizen it was just a leaf-dropping inconvenience; to Sierra it was a stairway to the stars.
    She ran to it, planning to scoot the ten or so feet to the first branch, take hold of it and propel herself up from there onto the roof of Master Kade’s house. That would show him. She grabbed hold of the trunk, wrapped her arms about a third of the way around it, and put her feet to the bark. In the past she would have been able to haul herself up it easily with a run-up, but she found her hands slipping and her feet scrabbling and instead of a grand ascent she slid unceremoniously down onto her sore bottom, landing with a yelp at Kade’s feet.
    “You might try listening to me and believing what I say,” he said mildly. “You will need training to get back to your old strength.”
    Sierra’s eyes filled with tears, not because the landing had hurt, but because she had lost so much more than she realized. Her health, her looks, and even her strength.
    “Don’t worry,” he said, reaching down to run his fingers through her hair in a way that soothed her. “You will be back to your old self before you know it. Your mind remembers how to do these things and your muscles do too, they just need a little more care.”
    She nodded and blinked back the tears. She was tired of crying and feeling sorry for herself. It was time to work, not whine.
    “There is more to be done,” Kade said. “I’m going to train you as a house pet, so you will be able to have the run of the house and have as much freedom as possible as well as being able to perform basic chores.”
    Sierra snorted. “I have long dreamed of performing basic chores,” she said, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. “Do you think, if I work very hard, I might one day be able to make beds and clean floors?”
    Kade lifted a brow at her, suddenly looking quite stern. Sometimes she forgot the real