Page 15 of Weaving Winter

“Come with me. I’ll take care of you,” Fenling said, leading me to the side. She glanced back at her cousin. “Bran, take care of that problem.” She nodded toward the scout. “You know that his presence here won’t bode well under any circumstance.”

“My thoughts, as well.” He nodded to me. “I’ll leave you in Fenling’s capable hands. Until the evening meal.”

As I watched him go, I couldn’t look away. Not only had he saved me from the scouts, but he was taking my side, and that was something I wasn’t used to. As I realized that I wasn’t going to be killed, for the first time in a long time, I started to relax. Whatever fate was planning for me, at least for the moment, I actually felt safe.

Fenling put her arm around my shoulders. She was taller than me—almost as tall as her cousin. And I could feel the strength in her body as she led me to a spacious tent, opening the flap for me to enter. Inside was a metal tub, not large but big enough to sit cross-legged in. There was a fire inside, with a chimney hole cut in the ceiling, and several large barrels of water. The rest of the tent held a cot, raised off the ground with what looked like a portable frame, a bench and a small table, and several chests.

“Here. Undress and I’ll fill the tub. The water’s hot.”

“Hot? How did you keep it that way—” But I stopped as I saw that the barrels were steaming. “You can’t keep those over the fire, can you? They’d burn.”

“We have our ways. Don’t worry about it for now. Just get in the tub and I’ll pour water in for you to bathe. I think you’ll fit in some of Daretha’s clothes. While you wash up, I’ll fetch an outfit until we can clean yours.” She looked around, pointing toward a screen that divided off a small portion of the room. “If you need to use the privy box, which is over there, behind that screen, go ahead. The tessori is next to it.”

I disrobed, throwing caution to the wind. She wasn’t likely to attack me. Fenling set a rough bar of soap next to the tub, then added a scrub brush. I stepped into the metal tub and she began adding first hot water, then cold, until it was the perfect temperature.

As she headed outside, I asked, “Whose tent is this?”

She glanced back, a sly smile on her face. “My cousin’s. The bath water was for him.”

Before I could answer, she darted outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The soap was utilitarian and a little rough, but on the plus side, it smelled good—like lavender—and the texture provided exfoliation for my bruised and filthy skin. Too many days in the same clothes without a chance to wash up left its toll. I grimaced as I scrubbed a scab where I’d scratched my arm on a stand of branches.

The bruises Garimorn’s thug had left were deep blue. In a few days they would turn purple and then yellow, before fading, but right now, when I looked at them I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself. I didn’t like the thought of taking lives, but it was an eat-or-be-eaten world. My mother and father had taught that to me when I was young. Life and death were a fine line’s distance from one another, and sometimes, you won. Sometimes, you lost.

I thought about hunting through the tent, but Fenling would be back soon, and I didn’t want her to catch me rifling through her cousin’s things. I decided to stay in the warm water as long as possible.

A little while later, Fenling entered the tent. “All done?” she asked.

I nodded and she handed me a towel. I wrapped it around me and stepped out of the tub, glancing back at the water. It was filthy. I grimaced. “Ugh, I guess I was…”

“Would you like me to pour water over you to rinse off any leftover grime?” Fenling asked.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

She set down the clothes she was carrying and filled a pitcher with water from the heated barrels. I stepped back in the tub, stretched out my arms and she poured water over me, from shoulder to floor.

“I didn’t wash my hair because I wasn’t sure how cold it was going to get and with all this hair?—”

“I bet it takes forever to dry,” she said, examining my locks. “It’s thick and wavy, and I love the color. It’s beautiful. I wish my hair grew that long but it stops at my shoulders and never seems to lengthen past that.”

“It’s pretty, though,” I said. “Straight hair is always shinier than curly. Anyway, yes, it takes forever for my hair to dry, so I figure I can wash it in a couple days.”

I finished drying off and she handed me the clothes. I was surprised to see she’d brought me a dress instead of trousers and a tunic. She also brought me a camisole which was snug enough to keep my breasts from bouncing, and a pair of under-leggings. They were ankle-length and would add an extra layer of warmth. She had also brought a pair of boots and some socks.

I slid on the leggings and camisole—they were snug but they fit. Then I pulled the dress over my head. It was fitted at the bodice, but the skirt flowed out, and it stopped at my calves. I sat on the bench to put on the socks and then I tested the boots.

“You have a good eye. Everything fits well. Thank you, and thank whoever provided these clothes.” I looked around. “Now what?”

“We go eat.” She led me out of the tent, over to one of the bigger pavilions. A surge of noise echoed out from the canvas structure, and as Fenling pulled back the door flap, the smells from earlier wafted out. Bread and soup or stew, roasted meat…my stomach rumbled. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“I’ve mostly been living on bread and cheese the past…I think I’ve been on the road close to a fortnight? I’m not sure. At least eight or nine days? It’s good food but doesn’t take the chill off like a hot meal.” I followed her over to the table where Bran was sitting with several of his men.

“Fenling, Asajia, have a seat,” he said, glancing up from his plate. “Fill your bellies.” His eyes glittered as he caught my gaze, and he didn’t look as harsh as he had out in the forest proper. Maybe it was being in the company of his people, but he seemed almost merry.

Fenling motioned for me to sit beside her on the opposite side. The others at the long table had left two spots open on the bench. I glanced down the row. There were three women and four other men at this table, and there were four other tables, all full. That meant about fifty people. I frowned, looking around. I didn’t see the scout anywhere.

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