Page 17 of Dance With Death

“No, Leif. The rucksack contains food.”

He pauses. “Food? Are we going on a picnic?”

“What is a picnic?”

He blinks. “Tell me you know what a picnic is.”

“No, I do not, otherwise I wouldn’t request clarification,” I retort.

“A picnic. Eating outdoors somewhere. Often after a walk.”

“Oh.” I rub a cheek. “No. I brought food because you constantly eat, and I thought you might need some to sustain yourself.”

“So, a picnic date?” Leif’s face is brighter than I’ve seen for a few days. “It’s very... thoughtful.”

“I’m learning to consider others’ wants and needs. You are aware of this,” I say. “You are important, and I am concerned about your mental stability. You’re currently dealing with the distress caused by a witch invading your head and splintering your mind.”

The brightness leaves instantly, and he drops my hand. “Right. Thanks for the reminder.”

I frown. “Reminder? Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

Leif sighs. “No, Violet. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, otherwise I might worry that Viktor affected your mind further.”

He blanches. “Can you not say things like that?”

“Very well.” I’m already headed along the hallway again; the shorter the time I spend in the center of Darwin house, the better. “Come along, Leif,” I call back.

“Woof.”

I pause at his reply and turn as Leif strides towards me, catches me around the waist, and lifts me to place his lips on mine. I don’t slap him on the shoulder for the public display because when Leif picks me up, his smile has returned.

6

VIOLET

Disappointingly, the place I chose to bring Leif is more popular than I’d expected. Perhaps if I’d chosen a rainy day, I’d encounter less humans. We follow a trodden dirt trail, alongside dry stone walls that border fields, some scattered with sheep grazing peacefully and others containing walkers crossing towards the foot of the green hills.

Leif insists on carrying the small backpack, unnecessarily as the weight doesn’t bother me. As I borrowed the bag from Holly’s closet, and it’s covered in cartoon pigs, I don’t protest.

Holly.

I spoke to Rowan about my planned afternoon with Leif, and he had no desire to join us. He agreed to watch Instagram notifications and contact me as soon as we receive a response to the message. So, I force my mind to remain focused on Leif and calm myself with the knowledge that there’s little I can do to help Holly at this exact moment.

We stride by other hikers, and one elderly couple watch open-mouthed as we leap over the stile between two fields without touching the wood. I catch muttering about ‘their sort’ and ‘unnatural’—as does Leif because his hand in mine tightens.

If permitted, Leif would hold my hand at all times. Whenever we’re together, the first thing he does is encircle my slender fingers with his large ones. Often, I pull away because I’m still hesitant with touch, but recently I don’t, aware Leif needs the comfort physical contact brings him.

How odd that someone could find comfort from me.

And how on earth did I attract, and become attracted to, one of the most tactile and attentive people at the academy? Like does not meet like in mine and Leif’s case. I’m attempting to learn all the guys’ likes and dislikes, but that proves tricky when their words and actions can contradict each other, confusing me. Leif’s the plainest to understand because he’s the plainest speaking. Physical closeness—hugs and hand holding—top Leif’s needs.

“Why do humans partake in this activity?” I ask him as we pass a clearly unfit younger couple, red-cheeked and perspiring beneath their quilted jackets. “They do not appear to be enjoying themselves.”

“The views. Fitness. A way to spend time together. Fresh air.” He side-glances me, a smile playing on his lips. “To walk their dogs.”

“Amusing.” I hop over inconveniently placed rocks. “And is there a specific place for outdoor food consumption?”

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