Outcast by Cheryl Brooks

she found a medallion with an unfamiliar emblem embossed upon it, some strips of leather (presumably to repair his sandals), a slingshot (which was undoubtedly how he was catching the rats) and two very stale chocolate chip cookies.
    Emotions flooded through her, and she felt the blood drain from her head as tears began to flow even before her mind could register what it meant.
    He'd been hoarding food — but why? Was he afraid she wouldn't feed him, or were the cookies just so tasty that he wanted to save them for later? Had he seen the cookies as payment for saving her life? Bonnie tried to come up with all sorts of reasons why he might have kept them so long, even thinking that they might have made good rat bait, but nothing could stop her from crying like a baby.
    No, he wouldn't leave these things behind, she decided, and there were no credits in his pack.
    Unless he carried them in his pocket, he had nothing but what Bonnie owed him — and she hadn't paid him yet. Surely he wouldn't leave before he had money! Her mind went wild, trying desperately to make sense of it all, until the baby kicked her into motion. Fighting back tears, she put everything back just the way she'd found it and ran out into the yard, screaming his name.
    Bonnie was understandably upset, but when she finally saw Lynx coming out from behind the shed, presumably having been answering the call of nature, she was unnecessarily dramatic.
    "Where were you?" she shouted at him. "I couldn't find you anywhere!" She was still crying, still wrestling with emotions she had thought were completely dead. "I thought you were gone!"
    Lynx looked at her as though she'd lost her mind completely, but all he said was, "I am still here. I would not leave without telling you."
    His frank tone brought her up short, because she believed him. No, he wouldn't leave without a word; he was far too honest for that. But Bonnie was speaking her mind at last, and she wasn't about to stop yet.
    "But I never see you, Lynx!" she wailed. "The work gets done, the food disappears, but you aren't there!" She took a deep breath in an effort to steady herself before adding. "You avoid me like the plague. Would you mind telling me why?"
    She could see his feline eyes glowing in the twilight and had a feeling this was another of those questions he wouldn't answer, but, to her surprise, he did.
    "It is because you smell of desire," he replied.
    Bonnie could scarcely believe her ears. "Excuse me?" she said. "You don't like the way I smell?"
    This was completely ridiculous; she used the same soap he did — and probably more often!
    "It is your desire," he said. "I can smell it."
    Bonnie was bewildered on two points. "You don't like being desired, or you don't like the smell of it?"
    "I do not like being desired by a woman," he replied.
    "Would you rather be desired by a man?" she asked, groping desperately for an explanation.
    He shook his head. "I would not."
    "But you don't like women at all, do you?"
    "No."
    The irony of her predicament struck her then, and Bonnie began laughing through her tears. She had finally found her decent, honest, moral man: one who wouldn't take anything she hadn't given him and who wouldn't leave without telling her — and she'd almost given her right arm to get him, too — but he would never love her, and not because of her, specifically, but on principle! She'd never met a true misogynist before and had certainly never been attracted to one. Obviously she should have been more careful about what she wished for.
    Bonnie's laughter soon gave way to anger and then shame. She hadn't said anything to him or treated him any differently, but even trying to hide her feelings wouldn't work if he could actually smell them. She could try to mask it with another scent, perhaps, but if his nose was that good, what hope did she have?
    "Well," she said bitterly, "your dinner is getting cold. Better hurry up and eat it." Avoiding his eyes, she turned on her heel and went