The air grew heavy. Neither of them looked at the other.
“Are we friends, Magda?” he asked finally.
“By no fault of our own,” she said with a feeble smile.
He smiled and shifted, leaning towards the door and meeting her eye. “I will bring you more water, because as your friend, I have to tell you, you really do smell awful.”
She snatched up her half-eaten apple and lobbed it at him. “Get out of here.”
A hoarse, ringing scream of a bird echoed through the earthen walls.
GUR REMAINEDsprawled on the ground, but his tail flicked restively as he watched the new arrivals.
Damion embraced her and then pushed her away. “You reek,” he said.
“I’m aware,” Magda chuckled. “How did you find us?”
Honey, still on the roc’s back, gave the beast’s neck a hug. “Anqa found you. She saw your rat out in the meadow. She has very keen eyes.”
Damion gave Honey a dull, glazed sort of look, then turned back to Magda. “What happened to you?”
“Why don’t I let Kaelan explain?” she said. “I’m told I need to bathe.”
Honey continued to sit astride the bird, who was eyeing Gur with equal suspicion. “Oh yes, I can smell you from here,” the nymph chimed in.
Magda held up her hands in surrender. “All right! I’m going.”
“There’s a stream down that way,” Kaelan said, turning away from Honey and Damion and falling into step with her as she turned back. “I can show you.”
“I think I can find it,” she said. “Please, fill Damion in on everything while I’m gone, all right?”
He nodded, but his brow curved low over his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a sigh.
“I just hate it,” he said. “The way she is now.”
He turned and strode back to Damion, who was tapping his foot, arms crossed, face dark.
Magda ducked into the hut and grabbed the clothes and a hunk of soap that had been left beside them.
After she had trekked down to the stream and scrubbed the layers of dirt and blood away, she stretched out in a sunny patch to dry off.
“Are you napping?” Damion barked, tromping down the hillside.
“I was,” she said, not opening her eyes.
His shadow fell over her, stealing the warmth that had been sinking into her skin. She’d forgotten how much she missed the feel of the sun’s touch on her. In California, she had taken it for granted.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We should leave immediately.”
She propped up on her elbows, blowing out a heavy breath. “I know.”
She grabbed the trousers and pulled them on as she stood. They were well-fitted. Leave it to a brownie to know a girl’s exact measurements without having to ask. The fabric was soft, linen and wool, dyed dark brown. A thin tunic of gold was covered with a heavier vest that cinched along the sides and at the shoulders, cupping her breasts and giving them support. Heavy canvas boots with woven soles itched at her bare feet as she wound the laces around her shins and over her knees, knotting them. It was so familiar and yet so alien. All the while, Damion was grumbling.
“Tell me what happened withhim,” he asked as she wound the linen around her wrists, securing the loose ends of her sleeves.
“Nothing happened,” she said.
