Page 76 of The Exile's Curse

"Right. Well, once the fire is going, you can take them off, and we'll see if we can dry your stockings out, too." Frostbite affected extremities first. It might not be actually snowing outside, but the air was frigid, and there'd been snow on some of the rocks they'd passed despite the rain. "You sit by the back wall, rest a while. I can make a fire."

She didn't argue, which made him think she was hurting more than she was letting on.

Goddess. Don't let her die.

It didn’t take long to sort the few leaves and twigs and branches into piles. There weren’t that many of them. The thickest branch was a few inches thick. If it was a slow-burning wood, it might last a few hours. But it snapped easily under his foot, and he suspected it was going to burn fast. He’d have to keep the fire small. Hopefully, the wind would draw some of the smoke out of the entrance, but a roaring blaze would simply fill the cave up with smoke and suffocate them. Not to mention use up their scant supply of wood too fast. So, big enough to keep them alive, small enough not to kill them. He made a pile of leaves and small twigs and sparked a flame to life, guarding it from the wind as he coaxed the fire into something that might survive any stray gusts of wind.

By the time he'd finished, Chloe had closed her eyes, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. The healers would probably tell him to keep her awake if she’d been knocked out. But surely she needed the rest? He rolled a large stone from the back of the cave over to the fire to give her something to rest against and she didn’t stir, but she opened her eyes when he crouched in front of her and touched her knee.

"Come closer to the fire," he said, offering her a hand.

She took it, smiling weakly, wincing as her injured arm moved. He put his arm around her waist carefully and helped her back over to the fire, easing her cloak off and draping it on another rock next to his. Maybe, just maybe, there was a little steam rising from it.

He scooted back over to the fire, fed it a small branch, and eased down next to Chloe, taking the side closer to the entrance to block more of the wind from her. She was still shivering. Too soon to coax her into taking off her shoes or any other layers. The hem of her trousers and her jacket were soaked. Thank the goddess the Andalyssians had the sense to realize that riding sidesaddle in the mountains was too dangerous. If Chloe had been hooked into a sidesaddle, she could well be at the bottom of the cliff with her horse. Though the extra layers of petticoats and things women wore under their habits might have been useful to either keep them warm or keep the fire going longer.

"Say something or I'm going to fall asleep," Chloe said. "Ginevra would tell me it's a bad idea to sleep much after hitting one's head."

"Ginevra?" he said.

"She owned the store in Anglion before me. Good earth witch. Taught me a lot." She stretched her good hand toward the fire.

"She'd be useful about now."

"Yes. If she was still alive."

He winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Why would you? We haven't exactly spoken much about my time there."

"Do you want to talk about it now?"

"Not particularly." She slanted a glance at him that he couldn't entirely interpret.

"You're the one who wanted to make conversation," he countered. "But I won’t pry. Anglion aside, did this Ginevra teach you anything that might be helpful in this situation?"

"I'm thinking about that," she said. "Food isn't an immediate problem. Water more so. There’s plenty of rain but nothing to catch it in."

He shifted, then remembered the kafiet flask. Sure enough, it was still tucked in his inner pocket. He pulled it free. "I have this." He regarded the flask. "It's not big, but it will do, I guess."

"It’s not the best shape to catch rain.”

"There was snow in places. It should be clean enough. And easier to scoop up."

“What's in there now?" she asked, nodding at the flask.

"Kafiet." He frowned. "In basic training, they said alcohol and cold don't mix. Or alcohol and head wounds."

She snorted. "Maybe not. But one mouthful each before you pour it out might warm us up a little. I'll risk it if you will."

"One mouthful only," he said and passed her the flask.

She unscrewed the cap, took a careful swig, and handed it back.

He took one swig, then poured the rest carefully into the fire. The alcohol flared fiercely, and the air filled with the scent of burning mint for a minute. Which was an improvement over long-dead animal. "Stay here. I'll fill it."

It didn't take long, which was good, because the air beyond the cave chilled him immediately. The flask held maybe two cups of liquid and only a handful or so of snow. He set it at the edge of the fire and tried to thaw out without taking up too much of the heat as he calculated how long the snow might take to melt. Chloe needed water to counteract the blood loss.

She shifted beside him, moving stiffly and supporting her injured arm.

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