Settling in my usual spot, I lifted my arm, opening my pelts up.
“No questions asked,” I assured her.
“Thanks.” Dace walked over but hesitated to make use of the offered corner of my doubled up pelts. “Those are only meant for mates,” she pointed out between soft sniffles.
“And I’m wearing it,” I kindly argued. Giving the end a flap, I waved it at her. “There’s no rule that says it can’t touch you if I’m comforting you.”
Plopping down beside me, Dace sat stiffly at first, until I gave another little blanket wave that made her laugh softly and she slumped down next to me.
“I’m a bad magnet,” she mumbled.
“I am pretty badass,” I agreed.
Dace laughed at that, then nudged me. “I mean men. Males. Whatever.” Before I could open my fat trap, she reminded me, “You said no questions.”
Crap. I did.
Eh— I had a suspect in mind already.
It started off as a hum, but then I ended up full on singing. I lost the beat completely when Dace started singing the “Sweater Song” along with me. It felt very appropriate, considering this unravelling feeling threading through both of our lives.
“I’m sorry I didn’t meet you to go to market. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.” Dace glanced my way then, an apologetic smile on her face.
“Not even me?” I asked.
Dace shook her head. “You make me think of Joanie sometimes, but nicer. I like it, but sometimes you worry me. I don’t want you getting into trouble for me. It’ll only make it harder for you. I’m a big girl. I’m used to it.”
“Believe me, no one can get me to do anything unless I’m good and damn ready.” I grinned at my snarky remark but Dace didn’t.
Trying again, I told her, “I finished translating that book, what that I could.”
“Really?” Dace perked up at that.
“You could douse your face in snow to freshen up and we could grab the papers, go see Doogie about the last bits we don’t have symbols for? You’ll be that much closer to giving it to… Rosa.”
My voice trailed off as Dace leaned forward and just mashed her face into a thick snow pile.
My jaw about hit the ground and sputtering sounds escaped me.
Jerking up, snow clinging to her face, Dace blindly asked, “How’s that? Better? Did it work?”
Whoa. Not quite what I’d meant. Dace was a bit too literal sometimes and it made her come off ditzy. She’d warned me of this. A sputtering laugh left me. “How does it feel?” I asked between muffled laughter.
“I don’t know what’s colder now, my face or my backside!” she squeaked out.
Helping her clean off her face, we stood and headed back to our shared hut for those papers.
Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, Dace absently began singing along to the soft hum as I continued my song. She was halfway through the song before I stopped humming and just joined in.
I couldn’t carry a tune quite the way Dace could but it felt good. Music was and probably always would be a stress release for me. What I wouldn’t give for the crank charge record player Elm had right now and a stack of vinyls to play on it.
The second we finished the song, Dace announced, “I knew that one!”
Considering how often she felt lost with pop culture, I smiled, happy for her.
“What else have you got?”
Dace thought about that for a moment and then gave a shrug. “I know a lot of country songs?”
