Page 23 of Avelina

I’m a belly-sleeper, and drool dripped out of my mouth at the corner. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. That must have been cute when Aaron placed the blanket over me. Then I realized that my borrowed shirt was hiked up over my bare hip in a way that would have been comically indecent with no blanket covering me. I hoped he didn’t see anything. Then I remembered his cat eyes and groaned.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the cot and waited, listening. I didn’t hear anything.

“Rogue,” I said, “I think we’re both going to have to pee outside this morning.” I didn’t hear any snickering. “And maybe poop too,” I said a little louder. Nothing. Maybe Aaron was already up and outside.

I stood and peeked around the other side of the privacy screen, then lifted my watch and pressed the side button again. The glow was enough to show me that Aaron wasn’t there anymore. My watch said 3:11 a.m.

The light went out, and I pushed the button again to find my pack, but nothing happened. Ugh. The watch was dead.

I turned and reached down, feeling for my pack. I found it by touch and dug out the flashlight, which I used to find and retrieve my clothes from the side of the tub, where Aaron had replaced them after dumping the water. They were still somewhat damp, but I could live with it. I changed back into them behind the privacy screen, then rolled up Aaron’s shirt and stuffed it into the pack. I didn’t think he would mind if I borrowed it for a few more days.

I had a gross taste in my mouth, so I grabbed a spearmint leaf and chewed on it while I put on my socks and shoes. I’d have to find something better for my teeth, eventually.

I felt oddly comforted by the sensation of wearing shoes. They were trail runners, a little stiffer, heavier, and more durable than my road shoes. I had taken to wearing them when I began training for my ultramarathon, and the solid weight on my foot somehow made my entire body feel more durable.

I took my watch off and stuffed it into the pack. Then, using the flashlight, I looked around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. I sat down next to Rogue and mentally prepared myself to leave the relative safety of the cottage to go look for Aaron.

After a minute, I stood and moved as silently as possible toward the front door, navigating around the table and chair. Rogue followed closely behind me. The door wasn’t barred, so I grabbed the knob and turned it. It must have been recently oiled because it didn’t make a sound.

The first thing I noticed when I cracked the door open was the aroma of the redwoods. The forest here had that same scent that I loved. It smelled like home, which was comforting, despite the memory of yesterday’s dragon attack.

It was dark outside, too, but I got the impression that the sun was about to rise somewhere behind the trees. It felt too early for that, but I supposed if we were at a high enough latitude, it could rise this soon during the summer. Then again, this world might have a completely different size and rotation than Earth. Who knew if it even was summer?

I pushed the door open, but hesitated, hovering in the doorway. I didn’t see anyone or anything outside, so I listened for a minute while Rogue waited next to me. I glanced down at him, then motioned ahead just as I had seen Aaron do the day before. He darted around me, trotting out the door to the left, then around the house and back up to the right, as he had done when we first arrived. Then he sat still, gazing up at me.

“Okay,” I whispered and stepped out of the doorway.

“That was well done,” Aaron said from above my head. I about jumped a foot out of my durable shoes. He laughed quietly from the roof.

“Rude,” I said, turning around to scowl up at him. He laughed again. My adrenaline screamed at me to do something drastic, but I didn’t know what it was. Perhaps Evilina would tell me later.

“Have you been waiting up there just so you could scare me to death?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “that was just a side benefit. I always come up here for the early morning watch. I can see you were paying attention yesterday, but next time, don’t forget to look up.”

“Great, thanks for the tip. Say, did you climb up that ladder that was right above my head while I slept on the cot?” I asked.

“There’s another way up from out here,” he said, gazing down at me.

That wasn’t a no.

“Okay then. Now what?” I asked.

“Now, we start walking. It’s safer in the dark. I’ll meet you inside so we can pack up.” I suspected that he still silently laughed at me, but it was too dark to tell. His voice gave away nothing.

“Actually, I need to make a pit stop before that,” I said. Aaron looked at me blankly. I guess they didn’t have race car–related euphemisms in this world.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Aaron. Just give me a minute alone, would you? Rogue and I have to go water a tree.” That did the trick. He made that same hilarious groaning noise from yesterday, did a literal facepalm, then turned to head toward the trapdoor.

Yeah, that’s what you get, you big bully. You’re lucky I didn’t talk about fertilizing the tree too.

I glanced down at Rogue. “Where’s the bathroom around here, Rogue?” He looked at me for a second, huffed out a breath, then disappeared around the back of the cottage. That dog was always pee shy. Weirdo. I laughed softly to myself, then followed him to what turned out to be an outhouse behind the cottage.

By the time we made it back inside, Aaron had relit the oil lamp and set it on the table. He had attached both bedrolls to his own rucksack and now knelt in front of his wooden chest, digging through it. He’d donned a leather utility vest that had multiple sheaths, and he was attaching every knife he had to it.

“Expecting trouble?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m out of bolts,” he said from the floor. I walked to stand next to him, looking over his shoulder into the chest. Everything in there was neatly organized and perfectly stacked. Rogue walked over to look in, too, nudging my hand with his head.

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