Page 41 of Lore of the Wilds

She collapsed onto the ground, tucked her knees against her chest, and blew on her fingers, trying to coax warmth back into them. Soft moonlight filtered into the cave, yet she could barely make out Asher piling wood at the back of the cave.

“Where did th-that wo-wood come from?” She rubbed her hands together, still numb.

“Me.” He picked up a piece of flint and, in a flash, slashed it on the floor. Sparks ignited the wood.

Lore stood and walked to the glorious fire, certain it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No doubt it was more beautiful than her first glimpse of the ocean.

She sucked in a breath as she sat down. The cut on her thigh stung. She reached out toward the flames, holding her fingers as close as she dared. They were starting to ache, but she only sighed as the pins and needles of feeling returned. She risked a glance at Asher.

He sat across from her on the other side of the fire, hands propped up on either knee, head thrown back and resting against the cavern wall. His eyes were closed. The shadows cast by the flames played across his features, dancing along his sharp cheekbones and full bottom lip. They didn’t reach his hair though, and his antlers looked inky black in this light.

If he hadn’t been radiating complete and total rage in the angry, solid set of his jaw and if his face hadn’t been smeared with dirt and blood, he would almost look at peace.

“Why did you bring wood here?”

He opened his eyes and Lore couldn’t help but flinch at the fury shining through them. They were molten lava in the firelight and his teeth were bared in a silent growl. Again, she wasreminded of how sharp his canines were, how decidedly not human they were.

He wasn’t human.

He also, apparently, wasn’t up to talking.

Lore didn’t blame him. Because of her, he had almost been killed and had lost his position and his home. He’d lost everything he knew, and it was her fault.

Lore lay down. The cave was heating up now and there was less smoke on the floor. She hugged her pack to her. A stray thought came to her—that she should change out of her wet clothes and into the spare ones in her bag.

But she couldn’t will her arms to move even if she had wanted to.

***

Lore was startled awake by a nudge from Asher.

“Wha—” She blinked, trying to adjust to the dimly lit cave now that the fire had burned down to embers.

Asher crouched on one knee beside her, holding a wet cloth in one hand and a few leaves in the other. He looked pointedly at her thigh. Though he clearly still wasn’t speaking to her, and he maintained an aura of anger, his eyebrows were pulled down in concern.

“Oh, yeah. I need to clean this.” She looked at her thick leggings. They were too tight to roll up past the wound on her thigh, meaning they would have to come down.

She stood, wincing as blinding pain tore through her when she put weight on her leg.

Asher lowered his eyes and reached beneath her short servant’s tunic. Slowly, he hooked his fingers into the band of her leggings, tugging downward and shimmying them past her hips and her butt. She hissed as dried blood and fresh scabs pulledaway with the ripped fabric, but he pulled until they could see her wound.

The gash was deep and angry.

Asher remained kneeling in front of her, assessing. He was so tall that this was the first time she had ever seen the top of his head or his antlers this close.

Slowly, he pressed the rag onto the cut and started brushing it with small strokes, removing the rest of the blood. It hurt, but she was able to stay upright. She ached to reach out and rest her hand on his shoulder for support, but suspected the gesture wouldn’t be welcome.

When the wound was clear of the old blood and began weeping anew, he picked up some leaves he’d set aside and put them in his mouth, chewing them.

Lore couldn’t look away from his lips even if she’d wanted to.

He pulled the wad from his mouth and set it against her wound. Where the leaves touched the cut flesh, flame ignited. She cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his shoulder. He reached up with one hand and held her wrist, pressing her hand against him, providing comfort.

For a moment, she felt his touch more than the burning sensation.

He leaned closer to her, blowing onto her thigh.

Suddenly, the fire licking her flesh went out and a coolness spread through her leg, followed by numbness. She couldn’t feel any pain at all.

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