She nodded. “We’ll use less wood that way.”
After a moment of quiet, his footsteps moved back to the woodpile, then a soft thunk sounded as he dropped his load. “I have food I’m happy to share. Nothing fresh, as I’ve been on the trail a couple days. But edible.”
“I’m heating enough for us both. Save yours for the morning.” She reached for a loaf of bread from her pack. There was plenty to share for one meal, especially if they ate from his supplies before she headed out tomorrow.
He seemed at loose ends without a task to do, laying his gloves and fur hat out to dry, stretching a blanket on the floor, then taking a log from the fire to use as a torch while he wandered around the room. His voice drifted through the quiet. “There are pictures painted here, and more on the other wall. They look like scenes of a hunting party.”
She straightened and tried to see the wall where he stood, about a dozen paces away. “Were they made recently?” Did one of the Dinee tribes come here often? The two villages nearest Laurent had always been friendly and valued trading partners, but they were located in the opposite direction from this place. She had no idea which tribes came through this area ... nor how pleased they might be to find two strangers taking up residence in a cave they might consider their own.
Just one night. She only had to keep herself safe here one night, then she’d be off again. Lord willing, by tomorrow eve, she’d be safe in Fort Versailles.
“They look to be a few years old, I think. The paint is faded, but that could be from weathering. And I’m not sure what material they used. Likely something from berries, which wouldn’t last long unless they mixed it with an adhesive agent.”
She shifted her gaze from the wall to the man. No mere trapper would have such knowledge of art. What had he done before coming to the mountains? He looked to be only a few years older than her, perhaps five and twenty. Maybe he’d learned this skill in the village where he’d grown up.
“Before you came to Fort Versailles, where did you live?”
He swung his focus to her, his eyes flashing with surprise for a moment before the shadows overtook him and she could no longer read their emotion. “A little village near Kingston in the Canadas.” His voice came out flat, devoid of the curiosity that had been there a moment before when he spoke of the paintings.
The change gave her the feeling something had forced him to leave his home near Kingston. Did she dare ask what?She would likely never know unless she voiced the question. “What made you leave for a fort in the mountain wilderness? For that matter, what made you leave the trapping group you were with to strike out on your own?”
His mouth tightened into a thin line. His gaze shifted from her to the fire, as though he didn’t plan to answer. But then he spoke again. “What madeyouleave your home for Fort Versailles? Where are you from, anyway?”
The intrusiveness of the questions wove around her, needling her vulnerable places. But they were the same she’d asked him. No wonder he’d closed up so quickly.
Still, she should try to answer a little, without giving away her true reason for leaving. “I come from Laurent, a small village west of here.” That detail should be safe to share.
Yet instead of the polite confusion she’d expected to see on his face at the name of an unknown town, intense curiosity took over his features. He moved a step toward her. “Laurent? The hidden village in caves? That’s your home?” With each question, his tone took on more surprise.
Unease tightened inside her. Had telling him been a mistake? Could it somehow put her people in danger? Surely there was no way that small knowledge would harm her people, not since she was a day’s trek away from Laurent’s walls.
And why would this man be a danger to her village? This was simply the old fear her people had harbored that was bleeding into her new freedom. Just because one group of Englishmen had discovered their home over a decade ago with violent aims didn’t mean every stranger intended harm. The council and most of their neighbors understood that now.
Still, she’d do better to proceed cautiously. “What do you know of Laurent?”
His posture relaxed a little, and he took another step closer, casting more light on his face so she could better see his expressions. “Nothing really. Only that it’s a village hidden in caves that no one knew about for years. I’ve heard it said that sometimes two men from there show up in Fort Versailles for trading. The times the trappers have tried to follow them home to visit this town, either the men from Laurent simply disappear or those following are mysteriously injured so that they can’t continue on.”
She nearly smiled at the tale. How had so much intrigue come to shroud their quiet home? It sounded as though God was protecting them from strangers who would do better to mind their own affairs.
Turning back to the food, which had more than warmed, she used a stick to pull the plate from the fire. “The meal is ready if you’re hungry.” She reached for two strips of leather to use as plates, then loaded a goodly portion for him and a much smaller amount for herself.
He approached and took the makeshift plate she offered, then moved around to settle on the bedding he’d laid out across the fire from her. She took up her own portion and sat on her fur.
A glance around showed what she’d forgotten. “I should have melted snow for us to drink. I don’t have anything to make tea, but warm water would be good with the cold.”
She began to rise, but he motioned her back down. “You supplied the food. The least I can do is retrieve the drink.”
Though she’d paused in getting up when he spoke, she didn’t sink back to a seated position. At home, she wasalways the one to rise when something was needed during a meal. She liked doing for others, making sure everyone was comfortable and could enjoy the food she’d cooked.
She set her leather plate aside and pushed all the way up to her feet. “I’d like to see if it’s still snowing. I’ll return soon.”
“At least take my pot to fill with snow.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a small metal container. This would certainly hold more than the metal cup she’d planned to use.
As she made her way up the long passage, she almost turned back for a candle or torch. Through the small circle of the cave opening ahead, only white appeared. A solid curtain of snow.
As she reached the place where she had to drop to her knees to continue on, she was once more grateful for her fur leggings. The leggings were her usual outerwear when she went outside during winter but were now especially useful when crawling through caves.
At the entrance, she scooped snow from the rock crevices into the small pot. The icy wind swirled the falling crystals, benumbing her face before she finished gathering what she needed. Darkness had settled outside, but the snow glowed brightly.
