When there’s nothing left, I slump back against a tree, shivering, cold sweat beading on my brow. That’s when I catch sight of Fox standing a few yards to my right. We haven’t spoken since my careless blunder involving his sister. I’d remained sitting on that broken tree long after he disappeared into the forest, cursing my own thoughtlessness.
Heat stains my cheeks as he takes in the sight of me. He clears his throat uncomfortably, then abruptly turns and strides off into the trees.
I shrink with shame, but it’s not long before another wave of pain arrives. I take several deep breaths, trying not to think about Fox – hating that he saw me like this, hating how much it hurts that he just walked away.
I must’ve eventually dozed off because when I come to the pain has eased somewhat, and there’s a blanket draped over me. I turn my head to discover Fox sitting in front of the fire, stirring the contents of a pot. He pours the concoction carefully into a tin cup and offers it to me. I reach out to take it, peering down at the liquid within.
‘What’s this?’
‘Ginger tea,’ he responds. ‘I added some fennel and raspberry leaf too. It should help with the pain.’
I blink, taken aback. Sothat’swhy he disappeared.
Fox’s eyes meet mine, and I’m startled by the softness I find there. ‘Drink up.’
The tea is tangy and sweet. I sip it slowly, unsure what to say. I thought it had made him uncomfortable, seeing me in this condition, and perhaps it did – only not because he was embarrassed but because I was suffering.
Fox fills the silence. ‘I can wash your things in the Creek, if you like.’
I stare at him, half astonished, half horrified. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
He shrugs, unfazed. ‘I don’t mind. I’m a Healer. I’m no stranger to blood.’
I run my finger along the rim of the cup, avoiding his gaze.
‘Look, you can wear these in the meantime,’ says Fox, fishing my old pair of tattered trousers from his satchel. ‘I’ll turn round.’
I hesitate, then shuck off my soiled garments beneath the blanket, remembering to snatch Renly’s figurine out of the pocket. Fox takes them without comment, pausing only to toss me a scrap of cloth and several rolls of gauze before winding his way through the trees. I glance at Cedar, as if he might be able to offer some explanation for this unexpected display of chivalry, but he just continues to graze half-heartedly at a clump of weeds.
By the time Fox returns, the tea seems to have done its job. The pain has passed, and I feel more like myself again.
‘Better?’ he asks, draping my clean clothes over a branch to dry.
I nod. ‘Much.’ Then I add quietly, ‘Thank you.’
He sits down to stoke the fire. ‘You were tossing and turning all night. Bad dreams?’
‘I can’t get it out of my head,’ I say, grimacing. ‘I can’t getherout of my head – Syla. All she sacrificed, just to save one life.’
Fox leans back on his elbows, sensing I’m not finished.
‘It scares me,’ I admit. ‘What she did. It scares me because …’ I take a breath. ‘Because I know, deep down, that I would do the same thing.’ I force myself to meet his gaze, my voice little more than a whisper as I ask, ‘Does that make me a bad person?’
‘It makes you a good sister.’
My heart twists. He didn’t even hesitate.
‘I want … I wanted to say that I’m sorry. About yesterday.’
Fox half closes his eyes. ‘You don’t need to apologize.’
‘I wasn’t thinking, and I feel awful –’
He cuts me off. ‘I don’t want your pity, Storm Weaver.’
‘Fine,’ I say defeatedly. ‘Forget it.’
‘It’s not that I –’ Fox stops, grinding his jaw. ‘It’s just, I find it …difficult. Talking about her. About what happened to her.’
