“Will you sit with us as we eat it?” one of the men said, a lascivious grin on his face.
Finnvid winced, but the woman didn’t seem affected. “No, I prefer to eat with better company. Shall I leave the rabbit?”
“Thank you,” Finnvid said quickly. “We appreciate it.”
She nodded in his direction and tossed the rabbit into the snow by his feet.
Andros came over later and showed the Elkati how to den up, and that was about all the interaction between the two groups for the first several days.
By the evening of the fifth day, Finnvid’s soreness was wearing off, and being replaced by a deeper, more troubling exhaustion. It wasn’t just the endless work, but the constant cold. Even denned up like the Torians he was never really comfortable, and every morning the daylight called him out of his burrow to face the biting wind. They weren’t even at the border yet, and he was barely able to keep going. It was too late to turn around, though, so he knew he had to keep moving or lie down and die.
That night at the campfire, it was Theos who approached with a couple snared squirrels. The Sacrati had been good about sharing their food, giving some to the Elkati and some to the other Torians. Divided among the men there was barely more than a mouthful of meat for each; not enough to give them the energy they needed, but an appreciated bit of flavor nonetheless. This night, though, with Theos standing there staring down at them, it was clear that something more was in the works.
“You’re starting to drag,” he said. It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it certainly wasn’t a compliment.
“We’re doing our best,” Nasi protested.
“You need to do better.” Theos pulled two of the fat cakes out of his pack and tossed them into the cookpot, where the lard began to sizzle immediately. “Fry the meat. Then make a paste with the vegetable flour and make it into balls, and fry that. Fry dried-upleaves, if you have to. Don’t stop frying things until all that fat is in your bellies.” He took a step away, then turned back and said, “Tomorrow you’ll have three cakes to eat. The day after that will be four. I’ll keep adding to the number until you can keep up on the trail.”
“We’ll be at the border soon enough, and we’ll be rid of you,” Nasi growled.
“The rate you’re going you’ll still be in Torian territory come springtime. Of course, you’ll be frozen in a snowbank by then, waiting for the vultures to find when they come back from the south.” And with that, Theos stalked off.
Finnvid should have left it, but he was on his feet before his mind knew what he was doing. He stumbled after Theos, and when the man stopped and whirled to stare at him, he blurted, “Thank you.”
Theos’s scowl didn’t disappear, but after a moment, he grudgingly said, “My oldest boy didn’t like cakes. That’s how his mother got him to eat them.”
“And now he likes them?”
“Now heeatsthem. I don’t think anybody reallylikesthem.”
It was almost a conversation. Not friendly, exactly, but at least an exchange of words. “Well, we’ll hope for that, then. And I didn’t just mean to thank you for the advice about the cakes. I meant for everything. For trying to help me. For not—not being cruel to me. Before. Thank you.”
Now the man’s scowl deepened. “I didn’t help you.”
Finnvid wasn’t sure how to respond. “You meant to, though.”
“I’m foolish that way.” Theos turned away, clearly ready to stop talking. “I’m trying to get smarter.”
“I hope it doesn’t work,” Finnvid said. He meant it. He liked Theos just the way he was. “And, Theos . . . Andros didn’t know much. Not for long. And I know he was ordered not to tell. It wasn’t his choice. I don’t think he’d ever choose to keep secrets from you.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, princeling. I’ll be sure to consult you in the future, if I need anything else explained to me.”
And that was the end of it. Theos returned to his own campfire, and Finnvid turned back to his. It should have been enough. Finnvid had thanked Theos, Theos had been typically ungracious, and now their association was over. But later that night, as Finnvid watched the Torians head for their dens, some alone but others in pairs, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. What would it be like to crawl into a den with Theos? To share space, warmth, breath . . . to press against the man’s broad torso and long, strong legs, and to not be ashamed, because they had the excuse of needing heat.
Or not to be ashamed, regardless. To not look for an excuse, as the Torians didn’t. What would it be like to stretch his body out next to Theos’s just because they wanted to touch each other?
Two men together was unnatural. Men and women were built to fit, men and men were . . . wrong.
Finnvid crawled into his den, trying to ignore the cold, claustrophobic walls and trying not to wonder how much more pleasant it would be with some company.
He should be fantasizing about the shepherdess. She was an attractive young woman. Theos had warned the men to keep their hands off her, but he hadn’t mentioned their minds. Finnvid should be thinking about her.
He didn’t even remember her name, he realized with a start. The only woman for many days’ walk in either direction, and he’d noticed her so little he didn’t even know what she was called.
He wasn’t thinking about men—about Theos—because there were no women around. No, there was more to his fascination. Lying there in his dark tunnel, he let himself admit it; there’dalwaysbeen something fascinating about men, even before he’d come to Windthorn. Back in Elkat there had just been confusing, quickly repressed urges. He’d known he would marry a woman, and had looked forward to the event with a mix of optimism and dread. He’d hoped that once he had the right body in front of him he’d stop thinking about the wrong bodies. But if he didn’t . . . if marriage didn’t cure him . . .
He squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. And he cursed his time in Windthorn. If he’d never traveled, he’d never have realized just how bleak his future would be if marriage didn’t cure him. Never have realized what he was missing, Never have known how simple and perfect it could all be. Hownaturalit was.
