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“He didn’t need to stop,” she says.

“Reivaka will be pleased.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

We follow the walking path beside the road. The end of her braid rests on my arm. Last night she wore her hair loose, and it lay across my wrist when she leaned against me. I look at the cord securing it now, considering the small knot while she asks me a question.

She waits until I look up.

“Daurek.”

“Yes?”

“I asked where the path goes.”

“Around the outcrop. It joins the other branch beyond it.”

“Were you thinking about the road?”

“Your hair.”

She glances down at the braid. “What about it?”

“I’d like to take it down.”

The color climbs slowly from her collar.

“You can ask me later.”

She walks ahead around the outcrop. I follow before she can mistake my silence for a failure to understand.

After dinner, Vai invites me into her room.

She opens the vines and moves aside.

I lower my antlers beneath the frame and enter.

Her writing ledge holds a cup, a pen, and the flower she took from the door. The shelf beside the bed remains empty. Her bag stands beneath it.

She notices where I’m looking.

“I keep meaning to put something there.”

“You don’t have to explain your room to me.”

“I know.”

She closes the door and turns toward the kettle.

“Tea?”

“Please.”

There is a clear patch of floor beneath the window. A chair large enough for me would block her way to the bed, so I sit there. Vai brings the tea and settles beside me, her skirts spread over her boots.

The light catches copper in her braid.