Page 53 of Wynter's Bite

Chapter Twenty-one

Bethany tried to hide her proud smile as she stirred the crock with a stick she’d whittled with a knife she’d found in the pack. The turnip, spinach, and wild onions made a semblance of a stew. What made it truly good were the morel mushrooms she’d found growing behind the ruined cottage. Those had been her favorite, when Cook had served them sautéed with venison. After hours of shivering on the hard floor in the gray morning in a disquieted sleep, she’d awakened fairly early in the afternoon, expecting a dull and lonely day waiting for Justus, but instead the hours had flown as she’d ventured outside to gather firewood and whatever else she could find.

The rain had quit sometime in the early morning, so she’d savored the feel of the sun on her face as she tried to forget her disturbing dreams of being back at Morningside Asylum. The dream had seemed so real, with her sitting up in her cot in the cell, awaiting Doctor Keene’s approach. Only in the dream, she hadn’t been frightened. Instead, she was almost... eager.

That had frightened her enough to wake up.

The shivers she’d experienced upon wakening abated. Who knew when would be the last time she’d feel the sun’s warmth? Finding dry wood had been difficult, but the discovery of the morels lightened her frustration.

With muttered curses and luck, she built the fire up enough and made a sort of cooking rack for her crock. By the time her pilfered vegetables and found mushrooms were sliced and simmering in the crock and everything else was gathered in the pack for their journey, Bethany was sore from her efforts, but satisfied to have finally done something for herself. Just wait until Justus saw the proof that she was capable of more than being a helpless creature.

She frowned at the darkening doorway. Why did he insist on not allowing her to do anything to help their predicament? Irritation gnawed at her for him denying her offer to get wood last night along with hurt as his refusal to feed from her. She could help him. She wasn’t starving and weak. She had made her own food.

The stew wasn’t nearly as appetizing as she’d liked. And nearly impossible to eat without a spoon. Bethany ended up spearing the chunks of turnip and mushrooms with the stick she’d used to stir them and chewed resolutely, though the turnips could have been boiled longer. Her stomach ached, but she forced the repast down anyway.

“Well,” Justus said as he strode into the hovel. “I didn’t know you’d learned to cook.”

She chuckled, nearly choking on a bite. “Learning would be the proper word. This needed spices and Cook’s other concoctions, but at least it was filling and I managed to make it myself.” She gave him a pointed look and finished chewing.

His admiring gaze warmed her all over. “I promise you’ll have better fare tonight. I have an idea.”

Curiosity welled within as she took one last sip of the soup and dumped the rest on the fire to douse it. “What is it?”

“I do not wish to risk disappointment.” He took her now dry cloak and settled it over her shoulders before putting out the rest of the fire. “But we do need to hurry.”

“Are you strong enough?” she asked, rubbing her aching back.

He nodded. “There was food in the forest for me as well. Deer, not rats.”

When he lifted her in his arms, Bethany curled against his body, feeling as if that was what she’d been missing all day. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on his heartbeat as he ran through the forest with his impossible speed.

Gradually, the woods cleared out and more farmlands came into view. Justus passed those swiftly and stopped near a manor house just as the rain began falling once more.

“Halfax,” he said, studying the crest.

Bethany blinked, recognizing the name. “One of my father’s biggest rivals in parliament.”

Justus smirked. “Do you suppose he is at home?”

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