A few yards away, he stopped and collapsed onto the ground. Holding out a hand, he said, “Give me that shield.” She gave it to him and watched as he began using the end of it to dig at the base of a blunt, slender sapling. He grunted from the effort, and at times she noticed his hands and arms shaking. He was nearing the end of his endurance, but he wasn’t slowing down.
There came a little popping sound. She stared in disbelief as a trickle of water erupted from between the exposed roots. Mattox continued to clear away the muddying dirt as the trickle became a steady stream. Throwing aside the shield, he reached down with cupped hands to fill them, then lifted the water to his lips.
“Oh, sweet heavens, that’s good!”
The depression where he’d been digging was quickly filling up. Caralas tried to cup her hands, without success, and was forced to sip whatever she could catch with one hand, until Mattox held up his hands to her. She swallowed the amount in several large gulps, then waited for him to have a turn before she could drink again.
After a third turn, she waved off his next offer. “If we drink too much too fast, we’ll throw it up.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, and splashed the water onto his face. Throwing his head back, he groaned in relief. “Ahh, that feels good.”
Caralas threw water onto her own face, and rejoiced in its coolness. Sighing, she lay down with her back to the ground. “How’d you know there’d be water here?” From the corner of her eye, she caught Mattox waving overhead.
“That’s a tarvid tree. Notice how tall and skinny it is? That’s because its roots go straight down. They don’t spread out like other tree roots.”
“I’m still don’t understand.”
“When you look at a tree, look at how far out the limbs go. How much ground it shades. The edge of that shaded area is how far out from the trunk the root system is spread. Tarvid trees need lots of water to survive. Most of the time, the roots go straight down until they find it. That’s why this tree’s branches don’t spread out as much.” He tapped the ground. “The height of a tarvid tells you how far down it had to go to reach water. This little tree didn’t have to go far. That’s why it’s short. That told me it must’ve found an underground spring that was close to the surface.”
“Is that why the water’s cold? Because it’s from underground?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. I would’ve thought water near the surface would be warmed by the heat of the ground.”
Mattox snorted. “Then how do you explain why water in an above-ground spring is cold, even in the heat of day?”
“Okay. Okay. Point taken. How do you know all this?”
“My mother…” He paused for a few heartbeats before he was able to continue. When he did, his voice reflected his love and his loss. “She taught us. She’d take us hunting and teach us how to read the signs of nature, and the signs of the animals.”
Caralas sat up to watch the water as it continued to bubble within the depression. She noticed how it didn’t overflow, but stopped within an inch of the rim. Dipping for another handful, she wiped her face again, then refreshed the back of her neck. If only there was a way to go swimming in the little hole.
Swimming. It was a useless wish. However…
“Go to Plan B,” she murmured.
“What?”
Shucking the tunic, she immersed it in the spring and scrubbed it as best she could. When she was satisfied, she lifted the sodden mass and ran it over her head, then across her breasts and stomach before letting the cool fabric slide down her back. The spit bath felt glorious on her skin.
She opened her eyes to find Mattox’s gaze riveted on her breasts. A glance down showed why. Her nipples were puckered from the chilly liquid.
A dark, burning hunger formed between her thighs as she watched as his face went slack with desire. His eyes turned a dark but unmistakable pink.
Dipping the tunic back into the water, she moved closer to him and held it out. He closed his eyes, and she wiped his face with it. “Take off that armor,” she softly ordered. He dragged it off, dumping it in the dirt beside him, and waited for what he knew she’d do next.
She proceeded to clean him, wiping the sweat, dirt, and blood from his skin. Revealing a hundred tiny cuts he’d sustained, especially on his face. The water soaked through his breeches as it had through hers, but she knew he’d find the sensation pleasurable.
The makeshift basin turned brown from the water’s agitation, but quickly settled to the bottom between dips. She washed his entire upper body, as well as his arms, and she used this moment to admire the thick muscles across his back and upper chest, and around his neck and biceps. His torso was rife with scars, although none of them were deep or thick enough to represent any sort of major injury.
Taking his hands one at a time, she cleansed them and observed his long, calloused fingers with their blunt nails. The equally calloused palms. A big hand. She pressed hers against it, extending her fingers to match his. It almost swallowed hers.
“You have hairy knuckles,” she teased with a smile.
“I have hairy everything,” he chuckled, and she swept her gaze over his chest again, noticing how the jet black hairs swirled across his small, pink nipples, down the middle of his stomach and around his navel, and disappeared below his weapons belt.
“How is it your hair is so dark, but not your parents’?”
