Page 11 of Lost in the Wild

“I said you should get some rest before your hike down tomorrow.” My stomach sinks, but he keeps talking. “Going down is harder on your joints than coming up. Your body needs sleep to heal after your fall.”

Yeah, yeah. I know he’s right, but… bleurgh.

Can’t Rowan at least pretend that he’s not counting down the seconds until I leave? I haven’t even thought about the future once since setting foot in this cave, not really, and here he is already making plans to say goodbye.

Will he miss me at all? Will he think of me ever?

“Are you warm enough?” Rowan sits up, like he’s going to give me his pelt too. The last warm thing in this whole cave—he’ll pile it on me and then freeze to death at my feet. The end of a noble cryptid.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

Because no, I do not want to steal this man’s pelt, and yes, the hot bath chased away my shivers for a while. But the fact remains that this is a cold, stony cave with a breeze whistling through, and I am a spoiled city girl who’s used to central heating and fluffy bed socks. Even bundled up in scratchy wool blankets and re-dressed in my stinky clothes, the chill is settling into my bones.

“Tell me if you get cold,” Rowan orders. The ring of authority in his voice sounds so natural. Like he was once a man used to being in charge. “I’ll build the fire bigger.”

If he adds another single log to the beast of a fire that he’s built, the flames will scorch the ceiling.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Seriously, I’m toasty warm. Night, Wild Man.”

Rowan settles back down on the pelt, watching me through narrowed eyes. I roll over on his cot and fiddle with the blankets until my breathing slows.

* * *

Cold.

So cold.

I wake up shuddering, my whole body vibrating on the cot. Icy needles prick my bones, and my fingers and toes are numb. My teeth clack together, chattering nonstop like some windup toy.

It’s dark in the cave, the candles snuffed out on their makeshift shelves. The only light comes from the fire, shrunk to a third of its earlier size as it gnaws on the last few charred logs. White ash fills the bottom of the fire pit.

My eyes take in these details, cataloging my surroundings, but it takes my brain way longer to catch up with what I’m seeing. A cave. An actual, honest-to-god cave, complete with a weirdly handsome wild man sprawled on a brown pelt on the floor.

Rowan, my sludgy thoughts finally provide. His name is Rowan. He’s the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge, and he saved me after a fall on the mountain yesterday; carried me here to his secret home where he fed and cared for me.

I mean, if this is all just a vivid dream… 10/10. Would dream again.

Burying deeper into the blankets, I stifle a groan. It’s no use. I’m chilled to the marrow.

“Rowan,” I hiss, reluctant to wake him despite calling his name. “Rowan.”

Forget not wanting to be any trouble; forget not demanding extra heat like a spoiled princess. If I don’t warm up soon, I’ll leave Rowan with a few frostbitten toes to remember me by.

My host makes a low noise in the back of his throat, turning his head toward the sound of his name. He’s half-wrapped in the pelt now, the brown fur twisted around his body like a fluffy taco shell, but he’s still bare-chested beneath. One nipple is exposed to the air, pebbled and hard, and the skin on his chest and arms is goose-pimpled.

The madman.

Who lives like this by choice? Who chooses to freeze every night in a mountain cave when hot running water and central heating exist?

My limbs are stiff as I push upright, gathering up my blankets in shaking hands. Screw this.

“You asked for it,” I mutter, shuffling across the lumpy stone floor. When I stub my numb toe I barely feel it, cursing in the gloom, and I’m cranky as hell by the time I reach Rowan and his pelt.

He’s so handsome down there in the soft firelight, even with that overgrown beard, and he’s frowning as he sleeps—like drifting off to slumber took him real effort.

Too bad.

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.” I crash to my knees at Rowan’s side, too cold to be graceful. “Human popsicle incoming.”

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