And now, I was cold, hungry, and my blisters were on the verge of bursting. But I still wouldn’t ask for his help even if I had to struggle all night.
“We can do it ourselves,” I said. It wouldn’t be the first tent I’d set up, though the hide was thicker than the canvas we used back in Protectorate territory and the wind less forgiving.
Another gale swooped down upon us, almost stealing our tent away. I grabbed onto it and yanked it back.
Then I grabbed Dax by the furs, bringing our reddened noses together.
“I know you’ve done this plenty of times before,” I hissed in a whisper. “Drop the act and help me, nobody’s looking.”
His top lip curled, poised to argue, but as another bone-chilling gust hit us, he relented. “Fine.”
Together, we set the whole thing up in less than ten minutes. I kicked the spikes digging into the frozen ground to make sure they were stable and plonked myself on the blanket next to him.
“Honestly, Dax.” I huffed, still annoyed. “These people are going to war, the last thing they’ll bother with is us.”
“Your Commander does bother,” he said as I flicked my fingers at the pile of wood we’d gathered. A blue spark instantly lit the kindling. “He keeps looking at us.”
No, he was looking at me.
I’d felt his gaze on my forehead and down my neck all day long. Even now, as he talked with his warriors, drawing attack strategies in the snow, I sensed he was acutely aware of my every move.
No blood ritual and howling at the moon tonight. Only cold, hard war tactics.
Sylvester was perched on his shoulder, gobbling down all the meat pieces Ryker absentmindedly fed him. I’d yet to see him eat anything, but I wasn’t about to march there and demand he didn’t succumb to famine–and to drink some water, for gods’ sake.
I tightened my jaw and focused on unwrapping our jerky while Dax began scribbling on parchments again. Our search didn’t end just because we were on the road.
We ripped into the pieces of dry meat which hurt our teeth more than they satisfied our hunger, and squinted at the pages.
Still nothing. Not even Bia’s name deigned to appear.
“I’ve never been to war,” Dax said suddenly.
I’d been so consumed with reading the parchment, I hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped writing on his.
“You’ve been in more battles than I have,” I said.
“Small ones.” His gaze traveled up the wall of the crater looming over us. “I’ve never witnessed a battlefield drenched in blood, with thousands of cadavers trampled by the survivors.”
I couldn’t stop the twist in my stomach. “Let’s hope we won’t witness it now, either.”
“This crater’s strange.” He furrowed his brows. “The more I look at that rim, the less happy I feel.”
Dax’s musings were interrupted by slow steps. Both of us tensed on instinct and looked behind, only to see Geryll approaching us with three steaming wooden bowls carefully balanced on one arm.
The tangy smell was enough to warm my insides.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked awkwardly, throwing one last glance behind his back.
Ryker didn’t move or look our way, but I knew nobody moved without him being completely aware of it.
Dax helped him with the bowls and I patted the blanket next to me and shimmied to make more room for Geryll to plonk down easily without jostling his leg too hard.
The wood groaned as he sat down.
“One of the warriors caught some rabbits.” Geryll rubbed the back of his neck. “Ithought you might like some.”
“Youdid, huh?” I took one of the wooden bowls, mouth already watering.
