Baron edged closer to the log again. Once he saw how perfectly I had closed off the hole, he stared back at me in amazement, while absentmindedly rubbing the hand that had been near the adders.
“Did they get you?” I asked and moved over to examine his hand. There was no blood. I turned his hand over and ran my fingers along it, searching for any marks.
He shook his head. “No, nothing got me. So…how long has axe throwing been on your list of talents, exactly?”
“The last two years. One of my father’s friends taught me. Now, how about we cook some snakes tonight?”
“But they didn’t do anything to me!” protested Baron. I ignored him and pushed the log over to the fire with the axe still buried in it. I could hear the snakes move around inside, a creepy slithering sound that made me cringe. Together, Baron and I heaved the log into the heart of our fire then stood back to admire our handiwork. It took a long time for the log to catch fire, but eventually it did. I went and wrenched the axe quickly from the log to prevent the handle from burning and watched as a few snakes tried in vain to escape. They slithered rapidly out of the hole but found no place of retreat, only a fiery end.
“Shame,” Baron said as he watched the snakes writhe in discomfort.
“What do you mean ‘Shame’? They’re venomous snakes!”
“Still. They’re living creatures. They weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Except trying to kill you!”
“Only because we chopped open their home. If someone chopped up my house, I’d probably want to defend myself too!”
I laughed. It was so ironic that this massive man cared so much about a colony of deadly snakes, but still kept me chained to him wherever he went. “You make no sense at all,” I snickeredat Baron, and handed him the axe. “Here. You better keep this away from the terrifying woman.”
“Hey, Laurel?”
“What?”
“Thanks.”
I smiled sweetly. “We’re still enemies.”
CHAPTER 19
After killing the snakes, Baron and I developed a tentative friendship, whatever I told him otherwise.
The harsh onset of winter changed daily life at camp. It began to snow occasionally and all the men stayed in camp full-time. Fewer and fewer reports trickled in, and physical trainings became shorter and less frequent. Baron’s duties became lighter and he had more free time with how few reports came in from the officers he oversaw. Everyone seemed concerned with just two things—staying warm and being fed. Baron continued to cook for us, though at one point, he managed to convince me to try my hand at preparing dinner, and after one bite, we both laughed and agreed that it was the last time I should ever do so.
There wasn’t much to do except watch Baron cook and wait for spring to come. To keep ourselves occupied, we would have rock-throwing contests, which Baron always won. We would have axe-throwing contests, which I always won, and we told stories to pass the time.
“Didn’t your mother or father ever tell you any of these?” I asked incredulously one morning, after I had finished telling acommon children’s story that Baron claimed he’d never heard before.
“No,” he said. “My mother couldn’t read and my father wasn’t much of a storyteller.”
I remembered what Baron had said during the first week we had been chained together about being on his own for most of growing up and became faintly curious about Baron’s past. I rubbed my arms, trying to ward off the chill of winter settling in.
“Baron,” a man called, coming up to the campsite with a large wrapped bundle. “I have the?—”
“Thank you,” Baron interrupted, and gave a sharp shake of his head so the man wouldn’t continue. He took the package. “I trust there were no troubles getting it?”
“Plenty of trouble,” the man grumbled. “I had to go a long way, it was cold, and you said to keep it quiet, so?—”
“Thank you for that, then. I appreciate your continued silence.”
The man left, grumbling all the while, and Baron ducked into the tent, where he stashed the package on his side of the space. I, of course, followed—but in this case, my curiosity took me as much as the chain.
“What’s in there?” I asked the moment he turned back to me.
“You’ll find out tonight,” he said with a small smile. “You really need to learn patience.”
“I’d rather just know.”
