Page 61 of The Brightness Between Us

Ambrose shifts his weight again. “That’s the thing. It’s not really so cold anymore.”

Chapter 2

That night, I give my mattress to Ambrose, while I lie out on the mist-soft wooden boards of the floor. It’s not because I’m inspired to be a generous host—it’s because if Ambrose is on the bed, he has to crawl over me if he gets up during the night. I’m left in the middle, between this handsome intruder and a sheep. She’s the one who snores.

I know Ambrose can easily escape if he’s motivated to. But why would he? He came all this way to be here, and it’s not like I have anything worth stealing. I’ve never had anything worth stealing. All the same, I wake at any small rustle during the night, my body flooding with adrenaline each time, certain he’s trying to leave. Sometimes I hear his slow breathing, sometimes I hear wind passing through leaves, sometimes I hear nothing at all.

My final waking is to the sound of knocking at the door.

I dash to my feet, groping for a weapon and coming up with my frying pan. It’s not even a heavy one. But then I see that the sounds are coming from Sheep, striking the door with her sharp hooves.

I shrug on yesterday’s shirt, put my warmest cloak overit, scuff my feet into my boots, then open the door. Sheep bounds out into the chill morning, speeds to the nearest hummock of dewy grass, and pees.

The temperature might have dropped overnight, but at least it’s not raining anymore. While Sheep hops to the tree line, I go about cleaning up the debris from yesterday’s fight, the ropes and discarded arc thrower and even my corded-up shirt. Then, fighting down the panicky awareness that a stranger is in my refuge, an enemy combatant sleeping in my bed, I range out to collect firewood.

I’ve hauled back four large logs and have just gotten started splitting them when the hut door opens. Ambrose steps out. “Brr! It’s freezing! When didthathappen?” he asks.

THUNK. “During the night,” I grunt.

“Wow. Is that an old-fashioned, plain old axe? And good morning.”

THUNK.

He comes over and stands at the far side, hands in his pockets, stamping his feet against the cold. “Can I try?”

THUNK.

I would not ordinarily hand a weapon to an enemy of the state. But I’m confident that I could take out Ambrose, even if he’s the one with the axe. And willingly handing over power is at times the ultimate power move.

He takes the axe in two hands, examines the headclosely. He looks at me. He looks at the wet log positioned on the stump. “This axe sure is heavy, huh?”

I nod.

He raises it over his head. It goes flying out of his grip, soaring behind him and sinking blade first into the soil. Sheep bleats in alarm.

Ambrose retrieves the axe, lugs it over to me, and holds it out, palms up. “I think I’d better let you split the wood.”

I accept the axe and return to the logs, angling my body so Ambrose can’t see the smile on my face.

He coughs. “I think my belongings are under that tarp? I’d like to get something out, but I wanted to ask you first. I don’t know if you’ve searched my bag yet, or if you even want to.”

“Go ahead,” I say. THUNK.

I guess I’m willing to trust him for now. I guess that’s what my mysterious, juiceless organ of a heart has decided.

Ambrose rummages through, and comes up with two foil packets. “Supplies I raided from the Cusk Academy mission prep storage before slipping off on my own. The same provisions that they stocked on theEndeavor, actually.Okay if I heat them using the woodstove?”

I nod. THUNK.

He looks at the labels. “We have lentil curry or manicotti.”

I place the axe head on the ground and lean on thehandle, like a cane. “Manicotti?”

“Yes,” Ambrose says. “An ancient meal made of pasta rolled around cheese, covered in tomato sauce.”

“Ambrose. I know what manicotti is. I’m just surprised that Fédération would think it was wise to launch manicotti into space.”

“Instead of what, protein-infused cabbage?”

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