“Come in,” I say, not wanting to get up. I’ve practically become one with the bed at this point. I don’t want to leave its comfort and face the reality of what happened. At least in bed I feel safe.
The knob twists, and Nils grunts. “I can’t open it.”
Right. “Sorry, one sec.” I climb out of bed and move the chair I’d lodged underneath the handle as an added layer of protection after Bea left. I’ve been on edge since the attack. Every sound makes me jump. I pull the door open to reveal Nils standing there with a bowl of steaming soup.
“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, carrying the bowl over to my desk.
My stomach grumbles loudly in response. “How’d you know?”
Nils laughs. “Just a hunch.”
I take a seat, grabbing the spoon and inhaling the warm, savory aroma. “Thank you,” I say, turning toward Nils. “This smells amazing.”
“It’s kjötsúpa. Lamb soup is my favorite. I thought you could use some, and you’ll actually be able to eat it.”
I help myself to a spoonful, careful to avoid the right side of my lip where my wound is. It’s salty and delicious, a blending of hearty lamb and vegetables. I help myself to more, suddenly starved. Each sip warms me from within. I haven’t been able to eat much since the attack. Opening my mouth too wide is painful, and it’s easy to get food in the wound.
“Just what I needed,” I tell Nils.
“I made it for you myself.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as my mom’s, but I’m happy you like it.”
“It’s delicious,” I say, savoring another spoonful.
Nils averts his gaze, blushing. He walks around my room, checking the fireplace is full of wood and picking up the fur blankets from the floor. “You dropped these.”
My fingers tighten around the spoon. “I don’t need them.”
“You don’t want to get a chill.” He lays the furs out over the bed. “We want to avoid a fever or any sign of infection while you’re recovering.”
A lump forms in my throat. “It just… reminds me of what happened.”
I can still feel the weight of the massive wolf on top of me, still feel the press of its claws, still see the sheen of its bloody teeth. I put the spoon down, no longer hungry.
“Right. Of course.” Nils tucks the furs under the bed, out of sight. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I get up and face him. “I never should have gotten you involved in this.”
Nils shakes his head, rising to his full height, so we’re almost at eye level with each other. “You didn’t. Ichoseto. And I don’t regret it. I want to help you, Edith, if only you’ll let me.”
My chest loosens a little. “I know. Thank you.”
“Your lip is looking better.” Nils hesitates before asking, “May I?”
When I nod, he removes a tin from his pocket and dips a finger into the ointment. He leans closer, gently rubbing the wound, his face far too close to mine. Nils has been nothing but nice to me. So why do I feel uncomfortable?
“That should do it,” Nils says, glancing at the excess ointment on his fingertip. Rather than wipe it off on his pants like I expect him to do, he slowly takes his finger and traces my mouth, a longing expression on his face. “Your lips are dry. You should be drinking more, Edith.”
I put some distance between us. “I know, it’s just difficult without a straw.”
“I’ll see if I can get one for you,” Nils says, averting his gaze quickly. “Your lip is healing nicely, though. It shouldn’t be much longer until it’s fully closed up. Want to see?”
I force myself to nod. I’ve been avoiding my reflection, since it triggers a panic attack whenever I see my lip and think about what else could have happened. I keep hoping this is just another nightmare I’ll wake from.
I still haven’t.
Approaching the mirror, I brace myself to see the large gap where part of my upper lip should be, the raw red flesh split open. Instead, the hole has mostly been closed over by a yellow-whitish scab.
“Mouths are actually one of the areas to heal fastest,” Nils says nervously, “because of the amount of blood there. The magical salve helps too.”
