“Hold still for a moment, will you?”

Silversoul opened one eye in mild annoyance, took one look at the comb in Iris’ hand, and closed it again. Some days there was no point even trying. If Iris was determined to pretty him up like some prized show dog, he didn’t feel like resisting, and then going through a whole episode of her insecurities and babblings about the handsome young private she’d glimpsed during their unofficial visit to White Shadow last month. She needed something to occupy her mind, though her method of staying occupied was not to his liking.

Blowing through his nostrils in an exaggerated sigh, he laid his head meekly on his front legs and submitted.

At last, he was at her mercy!

Iris combed and brushed and shined her bonded’s coat with an unnecessary vigor that betrayed her rumpled emotions. She’d made a fool of herself all day, pouted about Jamie Milan being chosen over her for sergeant, failed at every conversation she attempted, and finally flounced into her barrack with all the petulance of a preteen girl, too frustrated to even shut the front door all the way. She was tired, finished, and—

“Damn!” (Her favorite profanity, and about the only one she permitted herself to indulge in on a regular basis) “Silver, how on earth do you get all these stupid knots in your fur?”

No answer.

“Fine, make my day so much better then.” She swung the door open and stepped outside.