Page 59 of Tusks & Saddles
“We should go,” he said, instead. “The High Cleric might be in trouble.”
Chapter Twelve
Beatrix
By the time the sun had started dipping into the horizon, Beatrix had already found a potential spot to bunk down for the night. She gestured for Welborn to follow her, eye trained on the series of decaying boulders up ahead.
There was always a chance that bandits were nearby, as it was an ideal hiding spot. However, Beatrix hadn’t spotted any tracks in the area. Either the spot was empty or the bandits were more intelligent than Beatrix initially thought. Still, she was willing to risk a small skirmish given she had taken out three bandits the day before.
Besides, a soft thing like him needs the extra layer of protection tonight,Beatrix thought.
Together, they circled the area. Beatrix’s fingers were ready, hand close toBad Companyand ready to draw at the tiniest movement. Welborn followed, yellow eyes searching the area with tense shoulders. To Beatrix’s relief, there were no bandits and no sign of recent camping. She’d have to check for snakes or scorpions, but as long as they stayed clear of sleeping near the edge of the boulders, they wouldn’t run into anything too hairy.
“We camp here,” Beatrix said before dismounting her horse. “Let’s get the horses fed first.”
The work that followed was filled with silence. Beatrix wasn’t sure if it was simply the exhaustion of the long, hot day’s ride or if something was troubling Welborn. There hadn’t been much talking during their riding—Beatrix preferred keeping her ears open for incoming danger versus polite conversation. At least when it came to the Searing Wastelands.
Still, the cleric had seemed off as he set up his bedroll beneath the small canvas awning they had built. His bright eyes were darker, his expression more pensive. Beatrix supposed that wasn’t too different than his usual expression. Welborn—despite his eagerness to jump into dangerous situations—appeared to be a bit of a thinker. Yet, the spark in his expression was definitely missing.
It left when he mentioned the birds,Beatrix realized.That’s when he closed himself off.
Beatrix might have been a hardass—as Gimdor had so kindly told her over a round of Misfortune—but she wasn’t so inept when it came to people. She had a family, had brothers, and if she could talk to the Dusk Wardens, there was no reason why she couldn’t inquire about what was on the young man’s mind.
Besides, I need him here, not where ever his head is off to.
A troubled mind made for a distracted mind. A distraction took one’s attention away from potential danger. If Welborn was too preoccupied with his personal problems, it meant his eyes weren’t paying attention. It would leave half their party vulnerable to potential threats. The last thing Beatrix needed was for him to be caught unaware—especially not during his watch that night.
Beatrix pushed back onto her heels where she knelt on her own bedroll. Her suitcase brushed her thigh in a familiar manner as she rested her hands on her hips.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” she said.
Welborn jumped, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he scrambled to face her.
“I—sorry, hear what?”
“What’s on your mind,” she supplied, this time folding her arms beneath her chest. “You’re obviously distracted. Unless you’re hungry, I need you to tell me what’s going on with you.Or,you can get whatever is in your head out right now and we can continue with our evening.”
They still needed to get a fire going before it grew too dark. It may have been sweltering during the day, but late nights out in the Searing Wastelands were cold. Not to mention the fact that fires typically kept an assortment of dangerous things at bay.
Welborn’s hands tightened into fists around his knees as he sank into his cross-legged position. The tension in his body appeared to swell as he took a deep breath and for a moment, Beatrix thought he’d spill his guts out.
“I apologize for any trouble I might have been, Miss Eaves. I do have a lot on my mind, but I’m afraid that it’s a private matter,” Welborn said. “I promise not to let it interfere with the mission.”
So, you do have a spine,Beatrix thought with a small smile.
She knew the man could handle himself in a pinch. Welborn had demonstrated as much on the train the day before. But assertingpersonal boundaries? Beatrix hadn’t been sure he was capable of such a thing.
“Good,” Beatrix said. “I told you, I need you here with me.”
There was something odd about the words once they escaped her. Beatrix knew she meant those words to be encouraging, they were a party of two and they needed to depend on each other to survive the wilderness. Yet, something in Beatrix—perhaps the lonesome part that she dared not admit to—was surprised by the sentimental feeling in her chest.
That unusual feeling only grew as Welborn leaned forward, an earnest expression across his handsome face.
“I am!” Welborn exclaimed. “I’m here with you, Miss Eaves, I promise. I’m not going to be a problem, so please, don’t worry about me. I can handle this.”
Before Beatrix could say a word, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Her veil swished as Beatrix’s vision locked in on the unknown. A tumbleweed was rolling across the dirt, approximately sixty feet from their encampment. Ordinarily, a tumbleweed wouldn’t draw much attention on it’s own. However, Beatrix noted there was something not quite right about the rolling brush.
“Is something wrong?”
