One that snuffed out her consciousness like a candle flame.Again.
Speaking of, where was he?
She panicked, eyes flying open to peer around her without moving too much.
She found him and stared, her breath hitching.
He lay slumped in a pelt-lined recliner across the unfamiliar room.
The grain of the chair’s timber followed the curve of his back with a master carpenter’s precision.
His long, dark hair swept the floorboards, and his chiseled jaw relaxed in sleep, a heavy leather-bound book resting on his chest.
Yet it was his skin that held her captive.
Even in rest, the gold sigils inscribed on his torso seemed to have a life of their own.
They shifted and coiled beneath the surface, pulsing with a glowing light.
The mystery of him, of not knowing what his heritage was, hit her once again.
So many subrosas.
She wondered whether lying in his bed, under his roof, in his home was a good idea now.
Logic reminded her that she’d had no other option, so, giving in to inevitability, she began to take inventory of the sanctuary he’d brought her to.
She lay cocooned in a massive bunk draped in heavy, luxurious pelage in creams, golds, and black that warded off the mountain chill.
Her eyes drifted to the hearth, where flames flickered, casting an amber illumination in the room.
Sheba’s brow arched in silent surprise when she spotted a basket tucked near the warmth of the fire.
Inside, a baby lamb nestled into a tight woolly ball, its tiny chest rising and falling in sleep.
The room was an unusual marriage of the antediluvian and the curated.
The fireplace was huge, as was the soaring stack of wood next to it, arranged in a geometric pattern.
The walls were rough-hewn, the marks of the axe still visible in the grain.
However, the shelves were a testament to a dedicated carpenter’s hand, engraved with symbols and motifs that appeared otherworldly.
An eclectic mix of weathered books crowded each shelf alongside pots overflowing with green-leafed plants that spilled over the edges, thriving and verdant.
On a long surface beside the fireplace were an assortment of tools.
Below them hung sheets of hides, along with leather pouches, belts, gun holsters, and saddles, which together accounted for the warm, organic scent permeating the room, reminiscent of nature.
Beyond a carved arch, she spotted the functional shadows of a sizable kitchen and pantry.
Through a half-open door, she also took in the steam-slicked stones of an attached bathhouse.
Then, she swiveled her head and gasped at the view out the windows.
Sheba stared, forgetting to breathe.
She had never seen a night vista so clear.
