I entered the tent and kicked off my boots, sighing as I peeled off my woolen socks. I wiggled my bare feet against the chilly canvas. The moon was bright in the sky, but the space was dark, the heavy shadows leaching the color from the room. I stared at Grae’s single bed roll and blanket. We could both fit better than the bunk for sure, but it would still be snug . . . I’d sleep on the floor.
I opened the front flap of my pack and felt for the glass jar that held my tea light candles and flint. I lit only one and placed it beside my pack, just enough light to see as I searched for any clothes I could use as a blanket.
The canvas swayed as the tent flap opened behind me, and I didn’t need to look to know it was Grae.
“Are you okay?”
I hated that question. I pushed down the feelings threatening to rise up to the surface.
“Thank you for asking to travel with them,” I said instead.
“You were right. It’s a better plan to hide amongst them.” Grae’s discarded boots thudded to the floor, and his socks appeared beside me as I rifled through my pack. His gentle hand on my shoulder stilled my movements. “Talk to me.”
“I’m just tired,” I said, yanking out my cloak and laying it across the floor.
“Take the bedroll,” Grae insisted.
“No—”
“I’ll sleep by the door. Take it, you’ve had a worse few nights than me.” I could feel his eyes lingering on my bruises. “I promise to take a turn tomorrow night if that’ll convince you.”
I sighed, still not looking up into those dark eyes. “Fine.”
The air was too cold for me to undress. I’d sleep in my clothes. I crawled onto the bedroll, pulling the fur up to my shoulder and tucking my wounded chin over the top. It wasn’t a bed in a palace, but it was far more comfortable than being directly on the ground.
My eyelids drooped, the warmth of the furs tugging me down toward sleep. I listened to Grae’s ruffling, wondering what sort of makeshift bed he had constructed for himself but too exhausted to lift my head and look.
His deep voice carried easily across the silent room. “What Navin said . . .”
“Don’t,” I cut in, blowing out the candle flame flickering in front of me.
I screwed my eyes shut, as if the act alone could force me to sleep. I didn’t want to talk to him about Navin’s story or how many other Olmderians had similar tales to tell. What would my parents think? I felt the mounting weight of it all crushing down on me. Compared to the plight of humans, I had no sad song to sing. If I didn’t help fix their world, I didn’t deserve to mourn it. As I yielded to the warm tug of sleep, I tried to imagine what my song would sound like, but all I heard was silence.
Twenty
The icy winds whipped through the tent and my eyes cracked open. Seeing it was still nighttime, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep. My whole body trembled, the furs unable to fend off the chill as the storms picked up in the night. My fingers ached, curled so tightly in my blanket. Ostekke gut me, I was a fool. We were Wolves, we’d survive, but the bunks would be nice and warm right now . . . especially with Grae beside me.
“Grae?” I whispered, teeth clacking together.
“Yeah?”
“Are you awake?”
“I am now.” His voice was husky with sleep. “Why?”
I shuddered, curling tighter into a ball. “Are you cold?”
“Freezing.”
“Me too,” I whispered, craning my neck up to see his shadowed figure lying across the threshold of the tent. The blustering wind rustled through the canvas. I couldn’t make out the details of his face, but I knew he was watching me. “Well, get over here.”
“Thank the Goddess,” he rasped. “I thought we might both die from stubbornness.”
I held my breath as he prowled over to the bedroll. He lifted the side of the blanket and I gasped at the rush of cold air.
“Sorry.” He shuffled in.
I rolled to my side, facing him, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him so that we both fit. I tucked my face against his warm chest and sighed.
“Better?” he asked, and I nodded, folding further into his warmth. His arms tightened around me and my trembling eased.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I’d tried to push him away but couldn’t, even as my anger at him for trying to stop me prevailed. There must be reasons for what he said in that tower. I could taste it even now—fear. He’d feared me leaving for reasons I didn’t understand, had tried to make me stay because of that fear, but it made it harder to hate him for it. He was here now, his warmth reviving me, and the only thing that still felt right in this awful world was him and me.