Which was when Omden caught up, wrapping his tail around the backs of my legs as he moved to my side. "Going to see your kid, huh?" That was to Irrik, but Omden made up for it by passing me a tin cup filled with warm and sweetened tea.
I took a long drink, needing it. The two and a half hours of sleep I'd gotten weren't enough, but the feel of Omden's tail writhing against my calf? That made it a lot better. He wasn't usually the type to be cuddly in public.
"Yeah, I have akid," Irrik beamed. "And I know Meri's staying with you two, so let me know if I need to step lightly around her?"
"No, you're fine," I assured him, deciding I wasn't too annoyed. The caffeine probably helped. "She's okay talking about it. She also picked Jeera and Brielle. Mostly, she wants to make sure the baby never becomes a Mole."
"Gotcha," Irrik said. "And I'm going to let you two ride with the informant here in the last cart." He patted the bed of it beside him. "Enough of my people want to kill him that it's safer this way."
And that was how it started. Loading all the seriously injured took a while. Many of them couldn't walk, but some could.Others had broken bones, but all in all, we didn't have as many as I'd feared. Mostly, it was Lorsa's militia members who filled the second cart. Half were going back to protect our own town. Irrik drove the one we were in, so Sylis, Omden, and I got the back of it to ourselves.
As we left the Reaper's camp, I was stunned at the damage to the forest. Trees had been splintered with gunshots, although one thing was missing. It took me a bit to figure it out, but when the pieces finally clicked, I felt even better about this.
"They didn't use grenades," I told Omden, speaking in English.
He nudged my arm, waiting until I lifted it before sliding in to lean against me. "What do you think it means?"
"Maybe they're out?"
And a weak voice answered. "Too many of us died."
"Good morning," I said, looking over at where Sylis rocked on his makeshift bed each time the cart hit a bump. "How are you feeling?"
"How do you speak English?" he asked.
"We live with Merienne," Omden said. "We learned to help her."
"How?" Sylis asked next.
"We have books from before the world was ruined," I explained. "The language of that time was English. It shifted over the centuries to what we now call Vestrian."
"Westrian," Omden said, doing his best to pronounce it with an English accent. "It was called that because the western part of the continent shifted their words one way, the eastern another. It's a lot like English with a different accent - and some letters pronounced differently."
"You'll pick it up quickly," I promised.
But the man's eyes were hanging on where my arm was wrapped around Omden's shoulders. He kept trying to look atmy face, but his gaze always returned to that gentle embrace. I couldn't help but wonder if my partner had decided to cuddle in public for more than simply the contact. Then again, it was a good idea.
"What's going to happen to me?" Sylis asked next.
Omden leaned forward. "We cannot trust you, Sylis. You are a Mole, and your people kill ours. The Phoenix said to help you, so we are, but you still have to prove yourself. You understand that, right?"
"But I'm going to die," he said, glancing down at his belly.
I traced the red lines beside Omden's eye and whispered, "Don't scare him, darling."
Omden looked at me, clearly struggling not to smile. "I'm being honest. Don't treat him like he's stupid. He knows this isn't our main language."
I murmured, realizing he had a point. "Okay, fair enough." Then I looked down at Sylis, who was lying just in front of my feet. "Your wound is minor. It has already been cleaned with something that works much better than alcohol. When we get to Lorsa - our town - a doctor will make sure the trip didn't make things worse, check the stitches, and give you medication to prevent an infection."
"But what if I already have one?" he asked, looking between the two of us desperately.
"Doesn't work like that," Irrik said from the front.
"You worry about driving," I told him, glancing back with a smile to make sure he knew I was mostly teasing.
But Omden told Sylis, "Antibiotics kill the infection. Even if it's there, it will kill it and remove it. For us, this is basic knowledge. It's common enough we don't even worry about it. To us, your wound is minimal."
"Which means," I said, "you're going to live."
