Tarrin eased his grip, holding me tenderly with one hand as he washed away the blood that stained me with the other. I watched him as he tended to me. His sturdy chestnut brows were knit in concentration, nothing but pure determination in his earnest teak eyes. His face didn’t have the sharp angles that typically made a man attractive, but his rough-hewn features were the perfect complementto his imposing stature, making him handsome in his own right.
He moved from my face to my neck, down to my chest, and then my arms and hands, having to repeat the process several times to wash the crimson away.
Once the water came away clear, he loosed my braid, letting my hair float free. With one arm beneath my bent knees, and the other bracing my upper back, Tarrin lowered me slightly, allowing the water to hold more of my weight. I tilted my head back, letting the crisp coolness of the lake tickle my scalp.
Tarrin gently twisted in the water like he was cradling an infant, the motion mimicking a slow-moving river—and in that moment, it was everything.
My eyes slid shut, and I relaxed fully into what he and the Mother offered.
Shortly after, Tarrin placed me on the ground farther from the shore, where the rocky beach relented to the soft grass, then turned to the boulder to retrieve our clothing.
“May I?” he asked as he held out the skirt. I wasn’t sure what he was asking but nodded anyway.
He laid my skirt out in the direction of the fleeting sun like a blanket and picked me up before lowering me down on top of it. The heat seeped into my skin as Tarrin slipped on his trousers, then bunched our remaining garments together.
“Here,” he said, lifting my head and placing the ball of fabric underneath. I looked at him with gratitude and offered a weak smile, and a sad one of his own met me.
Turning away, the pebbles shifted as his footfalls traveled away from me toward the lake. Too weak to lift my head enough to see where he was going, I looked up into the cloud-speckled sky, feeling numb. Merely existing.
A few minutes later, he held out a sheath, and lowered himself down to me. “Here,” he said and helped me up. I raised a brow at him; a wet sheath was a bad idea for the blade.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, “The blade will keep, and it’s all I have. Drink.”
I did.
“Get some rest. I’ll get us some food and build a fire. Here’s one of my daggers just in case, although I don’t think you’ll?—”
“Be able to use it,” I finished for him.
“Yes.” The word wasn’t a judgment but an assessing fact. “Get some rest,” he said again, and I let my body submit to the exhaustion and pain I’d been fighting back.
The smell of campfire and roasting rabbit pulled me from my slumber. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but the sun had tucked itself behind the mountains and nightfall was imminent.
I rolled over onto my side and watched Tarrin tend the fire. I had to squint to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Around the campfire were two objects that looked like chairs. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that Tarrin had made seating for us out of rocks. Two boulders each, one to sit on, and a long, curved rock that acted as a backrest. Stars, I guessed certain comforts aren’t negotiable once you hit a certain age. I would have been okay with sitting on the rocky beach like I had many times before. I went to get up, but my body writhed in pain. Gasping, I fell back down. Maybe I was wrong—a chair seemed like an excellent idea—if I could ever get up.
Tarrin’s head shot up when a groan left me as I attempted to roll onto my stomach and lift myself up. He was at my side in a few strides.
His hand cradled my head as he helped me sit up. “Let’s get you dressed,” he said, then untangled my shirt from his and slipped it over my head.
I tried again to get up again.
“Not today, Ny. Let your body rest. Maybe tomorrow.” He pulled his own shirt on, swept me up without a second thought, and walked us toward the fire. As we approached, the firelight caught his features, and I felt a pang at the moroseness that had chased away his welcomed levity.
I adjusted myself in the stone seat, and I was pleasantly surprised to find it both warm and comfortable. It was even angled back perfectly. I let my body mold to it.
He took one of the rabbits off the fire and placed it on what looked like the inside surface of aged tree bark. It was a clever use of the discarded piece.
Handing it to me, he said, “Sorry, there’s no cutlery.”
I snorted. “Tarrin, you saw where I came from. Do you really think I’ve never eaten with my hands before?”
“No,” he said, his voice solemn. “I just think you deserve better.”
His words sobered me, and I couldn’t think of a response. Stars, Tarrin had witnessed a tiny fragment of my past life, and yet his words uncannily echoed Eithan’s.
I looked down at the makeshift plate now resting on my lap. Not only was there a healthy serving of rabbit, but a piece of fish and a small salad adorned it. I shook my head. Only Tarrin would find a way to offer up a full meal in the middle of nowhere.
“This looks amazing, Tarrin. Thank you.”
