Embla was awoken by a soft tapping sound, like the pecking of a bird. It took her a moment to realise it was the sound of her teeth chattering. Her whole body seemed to be shaking uncontrollably as shivers raced over her skin. She rubbed her arms trying to warm them, but it was no use; her skin felt cold and clammy to the touch.
Her breath misted the air, and the campfire had burned down to glowing embers. The ground felt hard and unforgiving beneath her, as if the ice had slowly crept up from below to slowly freeze her bones. She rubbed her numb hands together and gathered the blanket closer, but it was even colder to the touch than her skin and offered little comfort.
A hissed curse came from Runar across the cave, but with the fire so low she had no idea what could have angered him. Then a great hulking shadow rose in the darkness, and a log thudded into the embers, causing sparks to fly into the air.
‘My entire supply will end up being burned in just one night because of you!’ accused a deep voice from the darkness above her, followed by more huffing and shuffling movement.
‘S-s-sorry...’ she stuttered, the cold stealing her ability to speak normally.
The shadow came closer, and she gulped back her fear.
Surely, he wouldn’t punish her for the logs?
‘N-n-no one forced you to put another one on the fire,’ she snapped defensively, although her voice sounded weak through all her trembling.
‘You forced me! How am I going to sleep with you rattling like a bag of bones?’
Her next words were swallowed with a yelp as something dropped down behind her with a thud. Squinting through the darkness she could just make out Runar’s huge shape above her. Pulling the blankets up to her neck with one hand, she fumbled with the other for something—anything to help protect her.
‘What are you doing?’
The shadow descended slowly towards her, and she grabbed the small knife she always kept tied to her belt and raised it.
‘No need for that,’ he said with a considerably kinder tone, flicking the blade with the back of his hand as if he were swatting away a fly. ‘You are cold, and I only wish to help. You will be warmer if we lie together.’
‘What?’ she squeaked in weak outrage, but already she could feel the truth of his words in the warmth of his body at her back and she wanted to sigh with pleasure and curve towards him.
The log began to catch, and the flames grew higher, illuminating the cave around them. Ice coated the rocks and they sparkled prettily in the firelight. Turning a little, she was shocked to see him propped up on an elbow staring down at her with amusement.
‘Better?’ he asked, a smug smile cutting through the bushy darkness of his beard.
Curse him!Shedidfeel warmer. The heat from his body was like a giant hot stone placed at her back, and with the fire at her front she was beginning to feel as cosy and as warm as freshly baked bread. Even the dog had come to snuggle at their feet, so she was blocked from the cold on all sides.
Gripping the knife tightly, she pointed it at him and warned. ‘Do not think to take advantage of this situation!’
He raised and opened his hands, showing her they were empty. ‘I would not dare...especially when you carry such a vicious weapon...’ His mocking tone did not match the seriousness of his words, and she realised he was teasing her.
If there was one thing she could not stomach, it was being teased! It reminded her of the smirks and whispers she had suffered regarding her father. Which was probably why she had been reluctant to judge Runar before knowing him better herself. Rumours, especially truthful ones, could be hurtful.
‘There is no need for you to lie next to me. The fire will warm me soon enough!’
‘But if you rely only on the fire to keep you warm. I will have to use twice as many logs as normal, and be up half the night feeding it.’
She lowered the blade a little. His argument made sense, and collecting firewood during winter was a tiresome task. She didn’t want to give him unnecessary trouble. Especially, if she still wanted him to guide her home in the morning.
Maybe, she had been a little harsh... After all, he had been kind to her, letting her use his supplies without complaint.
Still, encouraging this sort of behaviour felt wrong. Gertrud had warned her that men were not picky when it came to bed mates, only when it came to wives, and Embla did not wish to be used in such a way.
‘Just because you think I am lacking any reason to be proud...does not mean that I would accept you into my bed. I, too, have standards!’
There was a heavy silence for a moment as he stared back at her with open surprise. Then, carefully, as if he were explaining it to a child, he said, ‘I do not think you arelackingany reason to be proud.’
Another kind of heat flushed up her neck, and she feared her face had turned as pink as cooked salmon. ‘That’s not what you said before.’
He raised one of his raven eyebrows in question. ‘You misunderstood me. I only meant that you do not seem proud. It was a compliment. Pride can make you, and all those around you, miserable. You do not seem the kind of woman that would make me miserable...’ He reached across, and with one finger he pushed the blade down to the ground, encircling her with his arm. ‘It is a shame I do not meet your standards...though I wish I did.’
Was he flirting with her?
