“But don’t tell my Meemaw that I don’t like syrup. She’d be heartbroken that I pretend to like hers.”Oh, my stars! A man who cared what his ...eemaw thought was sweeter than molasses. I needed to get to know this guy better.“What can I get y’all to drink?” I asked.“Coffee, black, please.”“Coming right up,” I said as I sashayed away, hoping he was getting a good look at my spectacular ass.I came back with a mug and the coffee pot. “So, where are y’all from?” I asked, praying he was a local. My other proxies had the sense of touch, I could be stimulated sexually through them, but I couldn’t smell. I couldn’t taste.I didn’t even understand how I could imbue the feyhound. I hadn’t prepared it. I hadn’t bonded to it. It just ... felt open. Emptied. It didn’t matter. I had to get help. I bounded away from the fire, my four feet slapping on the hard-packed road leading along the Forest of Lhes. My legs stretched out as I ran faster and faster, the land blurring beside me.I felt no. More

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