She sighed and relaxed into me, unbothered by how we went higher and higher, dangling off a high cliff.
I wasn’t sure what feeling crawled through my chest right then—annoyance, maybe. Or something warm and dangerous that quickly was softening all my sharp edges.
“Veskor?”
“Yes,” I sighed, dragging us both into the cave’s opening
She looped her arms awkwardly around my neck and hugged me. “I like you.”
My breath caught.
“Do not,” I rasped. “You should not.”
She rested her cheek against my collarbone. “You caught me when I fell.”
“That was a mistake. I think. Instinct at best.”
“Instinct is good,” she said wisely. “Mommy says instinct is how you know who’s safe.”
I nearly stumbled again.
Safe. Me?
I dragged us into the back of the cave, sniffing deeply to ensure we were the only living beings. It was dusty and dirty, and a few bones littered the corner.
She lifted her chin. “Are you my friend?”
“No.”
“OK,” she said brightly. “Then you can be my almost-friend.”
“There is no such thing.”
“Now there is.”
I moved around the cave, putting her down gathering some of the dirt and old leaves to make kindling. The cave was small, but that was good. It would make it easier for the heat to stay once I built a small fire.
Wait, no fire. The drakens would see it.
I glared at the sky. I looked at her, shivering but still smiling.
“Are you lonely?” The question came so softly, so unexpectedly, it sliced clean through me.
I swallowed. Hard. “No.”
She nodded like she didn’t believe a word of it. “I used to be scared of sleeping alone.”
I said nothing.
“But I’m not scared right now,” she whispered.
Something inside me cracked, splitting open and shifting.
Wood. Fire. But a clean fire, try to leave no smoke.
That would be nearly impossible with everything covered in snow.
“Veskor?”
