“Oh, right.” Cole stopped his horse and dismounted. “Wait here. I’ll find it.”
He passed Bart, patting the horse’s rump as snow spilled over the tops of his boots, melting down to his ankles. Shivering, he backtracked along the game trail until he spotted Mistel’s farmer’s hat caught in the branches of a leafless poplar. He climbed up and retrieved it, then to spare his feet, stepped in his previous prints on the way back.
When he reached Bart, he handed the hat up, but Mistel swung her leg over Bart’s backside and dropped to the ground, landing so close her heels crushed Cole’s toes.
He grimaced as she turned in the cramped space, eyes wide with something unspoken—shock, gratitude? Her chest heaved as if she’d been running. Likely just adrenaline. Cole set the hat back on her head and tucked a loose tendril of hair up inside the woven straw.
“You might need to do a little fixing.” He gestured to the other loose strands. “I don’t think your hair likes being tamed.”
She ripped off the hat, fisted Cole’s shirt, and kissed him.
His breath caught, thoughts tangling as her touch set every nerve on fire. Snow might as well have melted around them. This was nothing like their lingering, curious kiss in Castle Armonguard’s herb garden. Mistel kissed with force, with urgency. The feelings inside Cole were too large to contain, and the forest around them shrank to nothing. Even now, the space between them felt too great.
When she pulled away, she left him reeling, staring at her full lips, impossibly green eyes, every freckle. His mouth felt dry, yet the warmth of her mouth lingered on his, reverberating like the final chord of a song.
He could barely remember how to speak, and when he finally opened his mouth, words escaped him. He stood there, blinking at her, hoping the whole thing hadn’t been some figment of his imagination.
Her gaze softened, a grin tugging at her lips, revealing her adorable overbite. She pulled the thong from her hair, letting thick curls cascade around her face, making Cole want to kiss her again. She gathered her hair up, catching all the loose strands, wrapped it in a knot, and tucked it back beneath the farmer’s hat.
“Better?” she asked.
Cole nodded dumbly.
“Help me up?” She spun to face Bart and lifted one boot into the stirrup.
Cole boosted her onto the saddle, then approached Cherix, still in a bit of a daze. He climbed onto the horse and led Mistel back toward the road.
What just happened? Should he say something? Scold her?
He glanced back, caught her smiling, and for some fool reason, he spun back around like a bashful schoolboy.
A kiss like that—any kiss—it couldn’t happen again. It simply couldn’t. Cole had work to do. They both did.
Plus, Mistel was supposed to be his cousin!
Out on the road, the army had already continued on, but Kurtz had lingered with Quimby and some of the Fighting Fifteen, who were razzing Derby about a heroic kill he’d made.
“Poet! There you are.” Kurtz mounted Smoke, and as they rode on, he regaled them with his version of all that had happened.
Cole listened avidly, eager to think about something besides the way his lips still tingled from that kiss. “Did the Poroo steal anything?” he asked. “Take the food wagon?”
Kurtz turned in the saddle and peered back through the ranks. “Nope, it’s back there still.”
“Then why would they attack?” It didn’t make sense. Over the years Cole had lived in Mitspah, he’d had many run-ins with the Poroo. Never once had they attacked, unprovoked, in such a way. They’d stolen food, but never ambushed for the sole purpose of killing.
Cole couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he was missing something important.
“I’m going to write a song about all this,” Mistel said. “I’m certain the people of Tsaftown will love it. Let’s see…Oh, gather ’round, good folk, and hear of Lord Livna’s valiant band…Who rode to Glodwood’s scorched remains and made a final stand.”
“It wasn’t a final stand,” Cole said.
“But that sounds more compelling, don’t you think?”
“A ballad should be as true as possible,” Cole said, “and you and I didn’t actually witness it.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, don’t you worry. Our adventure will have its own song. Mother blessed us in those woods. But I’ll get the true battle story from the men.”
Cole’s face flushed, and he looked away—at anything that was not Mistel Wepp.
