Page 49 of The Flame and the Forsaken

She used to be capable of such a thing. Before she’d become a Rutland.

When she awoke, not much later, exhausted and swollen, Erran still hadn’t come in to rest.

But beside her on the cot was a long branch, carved into a crutch.

Chapter9

Aye or Nay

Two days later, the dried meat was spent.

They’d tried to make it stretch. Erran had even offered to halve his own portions, to give Mariel some of her vigor back, but she’d refused. With her injury, he was spending so much more energy than she was. Other than some light gathering by the cabin and throwing together bitter stews from what little they’d collected, she mostly slept. She said nothing beyond what was necessary, and neither did he.

He tidied the cabin and reached for the spear he’d whittled the day before. It might not have been enough against the monstrous boars, but it would hold its own for what he intended.

Erran cleared his throat before approaching the cot, to give her a small warning he was about to speak. Mariel lay facing the wall, but she wasn’t asleep. He could always tell because at rest, she seemed actually at peace instead of a tangle of tension. “I’m going to try my hand at fishing. I may be gone awhile.”

“Aye,” she said evenly. It was the same tone from her all the time anymore. She’d either lost her fight or was storing it up, but he feared more that she was succumbing to the hopelessness his father had warned him about; all men were susceptible to it, when the odds of survival were less than favorable. He’d take her screaming over her malaise any day.

“I’ve fished this way before. If those snook or seatrout are still hanging about in the tidal pools, I should fare well.”

She shifted under the blanket but didn’t turn. “All right.”

“I’ll take the crate.”

Mariel nodded.

“You know where to find me, but I recommend staying off the ankle a little longer. I’ll be back while there’s still light.”

“Aye.”

Erran pressed his mouth tight. She didn’t want to talk. Nor did he, but he would try again later, just the same. They had only each other.

“I’ll be back then. There’s still a bit of stew left, if you’re hungry. Plenty of figs too.”

Erran paused, knowing she’d only answer with silence, and when she did, he took the spear and headed for the beach.

Mariel waited until Erran left.She swung her swollen leg over the side of the cot and sat there for a long time before reaching for his conciliatory crutch.

She hobbled to the table and dropped onto a chair. It was another moment before she reached for her boot and slipped it over her good foot. It would be a while before her sprained ankle would fit into anything but Erran’s wraps.

The past two nights, she’d offered to take boar watch and tend the signal fire that had so far produced nothing, but Erran wouldn’t hear of it. She tried to tell him she wasn’t sleeping anyway, but those words, like so many others, refused to come. All the things she wanted to say remained unspoken, apologies and explanations unformed.

He was an easy outlet for her anger, but he wasn’t the source. Even her utter contempt for his father couldn’t hold a candle to the disgust she felt for her own self—her own failures, which she numerated again and again on her sleepless nights.

In her darkest moments, she accepted they would die there.

But sometimes... Sometimes she recalled the small but important moments when they’d worked together. They made a good team. His strengths balanced her weaknesses, and the reverse was also true.

Apologizing might be more than she could muster, but if he was going to spend the day trying to provide for them, she could do the same.

She locked the crutch he’d made her under her left arm. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, but without it, she’d be even more useless.

Never in her life had she used such a word to describe herself.

Mariel grabbed Erran’s makeshift satchel, from where it hung on a loose nail by the door, and ambled out into the bright, blinding morning. She maneuvered sideways down the steps. The smoky remnants of the night’s fire burned her nose, but it also made her wonder how Erran’s nights had been. He couldn’t be sleeping either. Sometimes he’d catch small naps on the floor, but it could not have been enough to make up for what he’d been losing.

They’d explored south of the cabin, in the stretch between their encampment and the shore, and west, but not east or north. She randomly chose east and limped carefully into the forest in search of anything she recognized as edible.

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