White Stag (Permafrost #1)(37)

“We can’t do anything about it,” Soren said from beside me, but reproach glittered in his eyes.

I unrolled my bedroll, placing it as far from Elvira and Rekke as I could. I wasn’t going to tempt fate with the elder goblin. Panic trotted over to me, his sleepy brown eyes blinking lazily. Attached to his saddle were my bow and sheath, as well as my axe. I unhooked them, placing them where I could easily reach them in case of an emergency or assassination attempt. The horse nickered and pawed at the dry, dusty ground. I shook my head at him.

“Sorry, Panic. No grass.” He flattened his ears, so I added, “I don’t have anything to eat either. We’ll be hungry together.”

I lay on my bedroll, trying to get comfortable when the whoosh of air suggested someone was lying down beside me. My shoulders tightened. Soren was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Like before, my body greedily sucked it up. His breath was even in his lungs like a gentle nighttime rhythm among the silent darkness.

“Give me some space,” I grumbled.

Soren rolled over so he was facing me. “You know, you could eat if you wanted to.”

“I don’t like raw meat,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if I can digest it. It’s gross.”

“Suit yourself.” You’ll cave sooner or later, his eyes said.

I scowled and tried to get comfortable on the bedroll. The bearskin was on the other side of Soren, and if I got closer to him, I was sure I’d end up in a position like the night before. The last thing I needed was Rekke commenting on my relationship with Soren. “Go to sleep,” Soren said softly.

My eyes closed, and I willed my body to relax, releasing muscles I hadn’t known were stiff. The hard riding, the humans’ attack, the sinking ground, and the revelation all were echoing in my head like the pulse of a beating drum. Icy wind blew through the trees, and I shivered, only to be covered with the thick bearskin. When I turned around to shoot Soren a glare, he lay still, feigning sleep.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I said. The barrier between us was dwindling faster than ever. I had to at least try to keep some defenses up, even if they felt futile.

Still, I wrapped the bearskin around myself and burrowed my head under its softness. The precious warmth was a godsend in this freezing place.

“Janneke,” Soren whispered in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Promise me that whatever you do, whatever you decide, you won’t hurt yourself. I don’t think I could live knowing you’ve done something like that.” He rested his gaze on me, and I found myself trapped in his light eyes.

“You would get over it. After all, I’m a human.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked. “Or is that just your excuse?”

I was silent.

He reached out and brushed my cheek with his thumb. I shivered, but not from fear. There was something burning deep inside of me that was beginning to make itself noticed. Something about his soft words and caresses, the strange mingle of fury and concern drew me close. Yes, the walls were crumbling and the defenses were dying, replaced by soft thoughts that told me to let him in and a burning want that desired something I didn’t even understand.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, calling to its mate. Soren was still watching me with softness in his gaze. The burning traveled down to my navel and stayed there. “Promise me,” he whispered.

My eyelids were drooping. I was too tired to argue. Too tired to do much more than curl into a semi-comfortable position and sleep. “Fine,” I said. “I promise.”

For the second time, I fell asleep wrapped in his warm embrace.



* * *



AROUND ME THE forest was dark. The lush, full leaves rustled with every step I took, hiding the world around me. I ran with my bow across my back, an axe in my hand. Screaming. They were in this forest somewhere—my mother, my father, my sisters. They were here. I couldn’t doubt it. I couldn’t let myself believe otherwise. The smell of smoke stung my nose as I jumped over log after fallen log.

“Go get some firewood,” Ma had said. “Avette needs the lodge to be warmer if her baby is going to grow strong.”

My beautiful sister with her long brown hair that took on a reddish tint in the sun held her baby boy to her breast. The winter was harsher than usual, and if her milk dried up, that would be the end of him.

Those memories burned through my mind like the smoke that stung my nose and throat. One thought repeated over and over: I should’ve stayed. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve stayed.

I was a coward, diving into the underground river the moment I heard the battle cries. I was a coward who’d rather save her own life than die with her family. I was a coward because I knew exactly how to survive and I didn’t try to bring anyone with me.

Now, alone on the bitter, broken field that used to be the village, plumes of vile purple smoke plumed high into the air. Bile rose in my throat at the charred smell of human remains, and as I walked throughout the burnt village, I couldn’t help but see bodies I recognized. Women frozen in expressions of sheer terror and pain, men dead with their weapons in their hands, their bodies covering their loved ones, children who lay with their skulls crushed in. Some still had flesh on their bodies, and the carrion crows overhead circled while they waited for their feast. Some were only scorched bone. I tripped over the growing pile of bones, hands splaying out on the head of an infant. There was just enough skin and flesh left to make out beautiful red-brown hair and dark eyes. Avette’s sweet baby boy. I scrambled back, screaming, as something sharp pierced my hand. I wrapped my fingers around a bent iron nail; the only thing to survive the carnage untouched.