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Just as a man appeared from the foliage, longbow in hand.
I suppressed a shiver at the sight of him. One part savior, one part menace. His dark eyes roved over me and I saw a gleam of something there, before thick brows furrowed, and his nose wrinkled.
He was handsome. Undoubtedly so. More than that, tall as a pine and broad as an oak, with shoulders that looked climbable. He wore a simple leather tunic, darkened to camouflage into the woods.
My rescuer stood less than stone’s throw from me on the other side of the clearing.
Still positioned with my hands behind me, I gripped dirt and leaves until I found an arrow he couldn’t see from his vantage. Just in case.
I nearly lost my resolve and gushed with thanks when I looked into that concerned, attractive face, chiseled from hard granite, with a close-cropped beard hiding his strong chin, and short salt-and-pepper hair mussed near his ears.
Then I remembered myself. Where I was. Who I was.
My face twisted into a scowl, lips pursing.
I lowered my voice before speaking. “I had it handled.”
A hint of a smile curled his lips. It was a sign of mischief, head slightly tilted to the side as he inspected me from foot to hood. “Is that how you thank the man who saves your life?”
“I shot it first,” I answered, trying to keep my voice from cracking or lilting. “It’s my kill.”
He broke out into a small chuckle.
It boiled my blood.
“That hog was fitting to gore you like a pincushion, lad.” He threw his bow over his shoulder. “Fair enough, though. The kill is yours.”
I opened my mouth but said nothing. For some reason, I expected more resistance. Why wouldn’t I? He was a man. He was clearly a hunter of some kind, and if he lived in these woods he probably had other vagrants to feed. A boar of this size would go a long way.
Is it a trick? Why has he put his bow away? Is he really that unafraid of me?
Granted, I wasn’t posing a mighty threat in my current state. I’d nearly wet myself during that boar’s fateful charge. I was fairly certain I was still shaking like a leaf in the breeze.
The man didn’t see the arrow I had at my back, either. He didn’t know what I was capable of.
A moment of silence passed. Only the gentle breeze between us, the dying sunlight poking dots into the forest floor through the canopies.
My heart skipped a beat as I played his words over in my mind. He called me ‘lad.’ Good. My disguise is working.
“You know,” he said, taking a step toward me. It was a leisurely, dangerous step. I knew that arrogant gait as well as I knew anything. “It isn’t safe for someone like you out here all alone.”
Now his eyes gleamed with actual danger. Malice, even.
Fuck. “Someone like me?” I croaked.
He made a show of looking me up and down again. “Someone of your . . . stature. And age.”
Oh. So he thought me weak because I was small and young? The man was aged enough to be my father, but his warning angered me more than scared me.
I was half-tempted to lift my arrow and demand he retreat. Then I thought of something better.
“Lucky for me,” I said, “I’m not alone.”
He froze, ears perking as every one of his senses seemed to tense at the same time.
I resisted smiling at his sudden change in demeanor.
“Is that so?” he asked, voice clipped. “And who do you have hiding in the trees, boy?”
