“Very well.”
She started to rise again, and he got to his feet and instinctively offered her a hand. She put her fingers into his and he helped her to her feet. When she looked up at him, time seemed to stop. Conflicting emotions danced across her beautiful face: a magnetic attraction to him, fear, desperation. They stood less than two hands apart, holding hands for so long that blood began to rush in his ears.
“I wish you would stay the night.”
“I can’t.” She gently pulled her hand away. “I wish I could. Truly. But I must get home.”
“At least allow me to walk you back to your canoe,” he said. “That will give us a few more moments.”
“I would welcome that.”
She shrugged her white cape over her shoulders and ducked beneath the door curtain into the darkness. Cord, two steps behind her, thought, Blessed gods, we haven’t seen each other in twelve summers, and I’m still in love with her.
Thirty-five
Taya woke to the rich smell of cooking grouse. When she opened her eyes, she saw Sky Messenger crouched before a fire adjusting the roasting stick so the bird would cook on the other side. The faint gray rays of early morning outlined his muscular body. Last night, his tenderness had left her breathless. Her gaze moved from his shoulders to his narrow waist and legs, and it occurred to her that he wasn’t wearing his cape, just his knee-length buckskin shirt and leggings. She looked down and saw that he’d draped his cape over the top of the blankets to keep her warmer through the night.
“Are you awake?” he called.
Taya dragged herself to a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. “Barely.”
Gitchi’s head turned from where he lay beside the fire, tearing a rabbit apart. Blood covered his gray muzzle. He gave Taya an unnerving appraisal, then went back to his rabbit.
The wind had died down. Only a few leaves cartwheeled across the trail. She reached for her pack and drew out her carved antler comb. Yesterday’s gale had turned her hair into a snarled mess. While he cooked, she took her time, combed the waist-length strands smooth, and then plaited them into a long braid. She knew the style accented her perfect oval face and made her dark eyes seem larger, and she wanted to please him this morning.
He dipped a cup into the pot at the edge of the flames, then rose and brought it to her. “It’s spruce needle tea. The grouse is almost ready.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip of the hot tea and let the tangy flavor filter through her waking body.
“You’re beautiful this morning.” He stroked her hair and went back to turn the bird again. As fat dripped onto the flames, they sputtered.
It was comforting sitting with the warm blankets coiled around her waist. She was hesitant to leave them. She drank more tea and studied the burned village. Smoke still scented the air, but there were no flames this morning, at least none she could see. The charred palisade—burned through in many places—resembled a gigantic mouth of rotted black teeth. Through the holes, collapsed houses were visible, standing in smoldering piles, but she saw no dead bodies, just a few roaming dogs.
Taya shoved her blankets aside and rose with her cup in her hand. “Did you see anyone in the night?”
Sky Messenger’s brown eyes lifted and narrowed. He seemed to be watching someone right now, someone moving through the destroyed village. But he said, “No. Come and sit down. I’ll fill our bowls.”
As she walked toward him, he slid the grouse off the stick and into one bowl, then used his fingers to quickly rip it in half and deposited the larger portion in her bowl. Afterward, he sucked on his fingers as though he’d burned them.
She sat down beside him, placed her tea cup to the side, and picked up her bowl. As she blew on the grouse to cool it, she said, “You could have used my knife”—she touched the hafted chert knife on her belt—“to cut up the grouse.”
“Yes, thank you. That would probably have been acceptable.”
“Acceptable?” She pulled off a succulent strip of dark meat and put it in her mouth. The delicious flavor coated her tongue. “This is good. When did you have time to hunt? I didn’t hear a thing.”
“It wasn’t much of a hunt,” he said, and swallowed a bite of meat.
“The bird fluttered up on that fallen log five paces away. I killed it with a rock, a lucky throw; then I skinned it and slid a hickory stick through the middle.”
“Yes, the hickory flavor is wonderful.”
As they ate, she smiled at him, and he seemed confused by it. She felt so happy this morning. When she’d eaten everything but the leg, she picked it up and placed it in his bowl. “You need more food than I do, Sky Messenger, though I appreciate you for taking care of me.”