Page 49 of Lily's Eagle

This is the new world. There’s new rules here.

I pull off my t-shirt and toss it on the ground, followed by my shoes and jeans closer to the water. I’m leaving my bra and panties on though, because some things can wait for an ever more perfect moment.

* * *

The fire that seeing Eagle almost naked woke in me was quickly snuffed up by the cold water of the river. It was freezing everywhere, even in the shallows, and apart from splashing each other a couple of times and him looking just a little too long and too longingly at my breasts we were out of there in no time flat.

Afterwards, he built us a fire in the pit that we spent yesterday afternoon digging anew and reinforcing with river rocks. What’s left of the day are just slashes of silver in the indigo sky, and a band of dusty pink on the horizon. Something is chirping in the grass and the bushes, the fire is crackling and whistling, and the timeless, slow river is reflecting it all.

I’m leaning against his side, and we’re both wrapped in a huge star quilt, white, pink and yellow, the only one that hasn’t been eaten to shreds by the vermin and who knows what else that made their home here while this place stood abandoned.

He leans forward and takes a plastic-wrapped sandwich from the cooler by his feet. “This is the last one. Wanna split it?”

“You can have it,” I say.

He makes a happy noise and unwraps it quickly, as though he’s afraid I’ll change my mind if he doesn’t act fast.

“I could try catching some fish tomorrow,” he says with his mouth full. “There’s a book in the library here on the old ways of doing it.”

He actually sounds excited at the prospect, and I don’t think he’s just saying it to make me happy, so I won’t mention that catching fish, or anything really, the old way is a lifelong habit and not something you learn from a picture book.

“I used to go fishing with my grandfather on this river,” I say. “Well, mostly we just set traps and then came to collect our catch really early in the morning.”

“We could try that too,” he says, then resumes chewing loudly. “Sounds easier. Though I don’t know, being out here in the wild, it’s giving me all sorts of ideas about fending for myself and whatnot. I’ve always wanted to try that. And that spirit walk, or whatever, the rite of passage thing where you get your name, that sounds like something I might want to try.”

“You never have before,” I say, remembering all the times I went on and on about our peoples’ ways and not getting through to him at all. “But at least you listened.”

He tosses the sandwich wrapper back in the cooler and looks at me over his shoulder, the firelight reflected so perfectly in his dark eyes, it actually emits heat.

“I always listened to you,” he says softly and he’s not just saying it because it’s what I want to hear. I’m sure of it.

I don’t know how to respond.

“I know how much you wanted to come here,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off mine. “I’m sorry it all went to shit now.”

I scoff, wishing I could at least chuckle at it, but he’s right, it hurts too much, and he’s sees right to the heart of me, like only he can.

I still don’t know what to say. His closeness, the fire warming us, my skin tingling from the cold river water and its natural wild scent in my hair and his, is something I came here looking for too.

“I’m good,” I say since he’s clearly waiting for me to answer and there’s concern in his eyes. “I mean, this camp is where I’d planned to spend most of my time anyway.”

“Yeah, but you wanted to connect with the people too,” he says. “Don’t worry. We’ll clear our names and then you’ll have all of those things too.”

I brush back a lock of his hair that’s fallen across his forehead and is obscuring his fire-lit eyes. He sighs and flinches, his whole body vibrating for a spilt second.

“You’re always so nice to me,” I say. “So kind. Why? I’ve been so snappish lately.”

“You’ve always been snappish,” he says. “To everyone. But I wouldn’t call it that. You’re just assertive. And you know what you want. And don’t want.”

There’s definitely something he left unsaid and I’m pretty sure I know what it is.

“I’m serious. I should’ve said a proper goodbye to you. I’m sorry I didn’t,” I say. “I regretted it the whole time.”

He smiles, of all things, and brushes a lock of my hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear, the touch of his fingers against my skin fire and lightning.

“That’s alright, don’t worry about it,” he says.

“And the kiss—“ he lays his fingers against my lips to stop me from talking, his eyes no longer soft and smiling, but kind of scared. And a little bit dangerous too.

---