I can live without a meal or two, no matter how much my amped-up appetite protests this decision. I’m in Kalos’s arms, and we’re together, and that’s enough for now.
“I’m not sure which is colder,” he comments as I burrow against him. “Your fingers or the tip of your nose.”
“My toes. Count yourself lucky that I’m not pressing them up against you, too.”
“I’d let you.”
I smile against his skin. “I know you would. It’s fine, though. It’s not like?—”
His hand presses to my lips and he tenses. “Hsst.”
I sit up, my ears straining. I don’t hear anything, but Kalos’s body is rigid against mine. “What is it?”
“I hear voices,” he whispers, and slowly gets to his feet, detangling from me. “Stay here.”
Stay here? With nothing but a stick at my side? I hate that idea. I clutch my makeshift weapon tight, debating whether I pull a too-stupid-to-live and chase after him or stay here and go mad with waiting.
I stay, gritting my teeth, and I’m relieved when Kalos reappears at the top of the dry creek bed. He reaches a hand out to me to help me climb out. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What is it?” I whisper, putting my hand in his.
“You’ll see.”
We hike a short distance, and I notice Kalos is no longer striving to keep his footsteps silent. Either that’s a good thing or we’ve been found out already. I glance over at him, worried.
Then, I hear voices.
A very distinct voice, in fact. It’s Metta. Her shrill, strident tone carries through the still of the night. “We can’t have lost them,” she tells someone. “They should have been back to the village by now if they ran. Unless you think they decided to head all the way to Aventine?”
Someone answers her, their voice too low to make out.
“How the bloody fuck should I know?” Metta bellows. “Do I look like I can read the mind of a god?”
A pause.
“It’s my fault they got caught up in this mess. I blame that wretched Varina! That’s who I blame,” Metta continues, her loud voice utterly indignant. “Showin’ up, all chin in the air and acting like she’s so clever. Bunch of Belaran liars!”
Relieved tears flood my eyes. This wasn’t a big plot against us by Metta and her village, then. She’s come after us because she’s worried. It’s nice to know we have someone at our backs.
Kalos steps out of the brush and into the road. “I, too, am always cursing Belarans.”
Metta gives a little scream of terror, clutching at her chest. She skitters backward, grabbing the arm of the elderly blacksmith from the village, and nearly trips over her cloak. “Oh, gods! You scared ten years off my life!” She straightens and begins pacing. “I need a moment.”
“What are you doing out here, Metta?” I ask.
She turns toward us again, pushing the hood of her cloak back off her face. “Varina was being strange, making up all kinds of answers as to why you wouldn’t come back. I thought it was odd given that you have your pet goat with the monk and all, but she insisted that you two were going to head on to Aventine. When I didn’t believe that she tried to steal your book!”
Her indignant expression matches mine. “She what?”
“We stole it back,” the blacksmith says. “That book is for our people.”
“Damn right it is.” Metta lifts her chin. “Knew something wasn’t right, so I thought we’d come looking for you. Got to Eagleton and all the Belarans were acting like they’d never seen you. I thought they were full of shite.”
I hug her, sniffling. “Thank you. Thank you for coming for us.”
“Now now,” she says, and when I pull away, her face is suspiciously wet. “We’re just a couple of old folks. We can’t do much, but I wanted to find out for myself if you were all right. Do you need anything? What can we get you?”
Kalos gestures at me. “She needs food and a warm cloak.”
