Ralvar did not want to leave her.
He knew it was irrational. He'd spent fifteen years surviving alone in these mountains, had gone days without seeing another soul, had faced dangers that would make most warriors hesitate. And now the idea of walking half a mile to check snares and hunt small game felt like abandoning a post under siege.
But the fire needed fuel. Their food supply wouldn't last another day. And if they were going to survive until her ankle healed, someone had to provide.
"I need to hunt."
Delia looked up from where she sat against the wall, his tunic still hanging loose on her frame. The morning light had strengthened while he'd tended her wounds, and now it fell across her face in pale stripes through the ruined ceiling. She looked better than she had in the night, but the shadows under her eyes told him she hadn't slept any more than he had.
"Now?"
"The dried rations in my pack will last perhaps one more meal. Two if we stretch them." He was already reaching for his weapons, the familiar weight of blade and knife settling against his body. "There's small game in these woods. Rabbits, grouse. Won't take long."
He watched her process this. Watched the fear flicker across her features before she forced it down, replaced it with something that was trying very hard to look like calm.
"What if the guards—"
"They won't reach us before midday if at all. The storm washed away the tracks near the road. They'll have to search blind." He secured the last blade and turned to face her fully. "And I won't go far. Close enough to hear if anything approaches the tower."
She nodded, but her hands had curled into fists in her lap, knuckles white against the dark fur.
Ralvar crouched down, bringing himself closer to her level. The movement was becoming easier now, this constant adjustment of his height, his presence, trying to make himself less overwhelming. He'd never had to think about such things before.
"I will be back," he said quietly. "Within the hour. Likely sooner."
"I know." Her voice was steady, but her gaze darted toward the open doorway. "I'll be fine."
"If anything happens—"
"I'll scream very loudly andhope you're as fast as you look."
The words came out dry, and despite everything, Ralvar felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
"I'm faster."
He rose and moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold to look back. She was watching him, tracking his movement with an intensity that made his blood heat.
Come back, those eyes said. Even though she hadn't spoken it.
He intended to.
The forest swallowed him within twenty paces.
Ralvar moved through the trees like the predator he'd been trained to be. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the woods were still wet and dripping, the loam soft beneath his boots. Good hunting weather. Scent carried well in the damp, and the small creatures would be emerging from their shelters now that the storm had passed.
He found the snares he'd set two days ago as part of his regular patrol routine, a way to supplement rations when he was far from the outpost. Two rabbits hung limp in the wire loops, their fur slicked with rain. He freed them quickly and added them to his belt.
Then he began to circle.
The watchtower sat in a natural depression, surrounded by rising ground on three sides. Good defensive position, whichwas one of the reasons he'd claimed it as a regular shelter. But defensive positions only worked if you knew what was coming, and right now Ralvar's ignorance of the enemy's location gnawed at him like a broken tooth.
He moved north first, toward the road. The rain had done its work here. The ground was churned mud where it wasn't covered in fallen leaves, any tracks from the previous night long since erased. He found nothing. No bootprints, no broken branches, no sign that humans had passed this way since the storm began.
Good.
He circled east, then south. The border was quiet. The forest was quiet. Even the birds had resumed their morning songs, which meant nothing large or threatening was moving nearby.
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The guards were searching blind, as he'd told her. They'd likely started at first light, but without tracks to follow, they'd be combing the woods at random. It could be hours before they came this close. Days, even, if their captain was the cautious type.
