“I tried,” he rumbled with a lift of his shoulder. His voice was deep, and it seemed to resonate in her chest. “I’m going to need to carry yeh, so this sling’ll help.”
“Carry me? You can’t be serious. I am perfectly capable of walking. No one has carried me in at least—“
“Eight hours,” he interrupted. “I carried yeh here. With your head as it is, and your arms in no state to catch yeh should yeh fall, I’ll be carrying yeh again. Now, I tried to get yeh out of trouble, but it doesn’t seem like I’m very good at convincing. Yeh try and play nice, alright, and we will see if we can’t get yeh out of this somehow. Though, I haven’t rightly got any idea how,” he said the second bit under his breath, as if to himself. “Ach, up yeh come,” he said before reaching under her armpits and knees. She gasped as pain shot through her shoulder and arm.
Berne’s eyes widened and he grumbled an apology as he threaded her legs through the sling and spread the wide fabric up her back and down to her knees. He carefully tucked it under her armpits, nestled her under one of his burly arms, and pressed her against his chest.
“There now,” he said with a small smile. “You’re a bit bigger than my nieces, but the principle holds just the same.”
Sirin flushed. The man put off an intense amount of heat, and she was becoming quite familiar with his large pectorals. He tucked her blanket in around her and smiled sheepishly. “Don’t want yeh getting cold. I know it’s colder here than you’re used to.”
Touched by the small gesture, she felt herself flush, even as she nearly vomited when he picked her up.
They ducked out through the opening of the cave, Berne shifting a door back in place it looked like it could be early in the morning, as it nearly always did.8Even the low light hurt Sirin’s eyes. She didn’t have her goggles on, and after the dark, it was blinding. She buried her face in his chest instinctively, trying to block out the light.
He lifted one callused hand to the back of her head and petted her hair. “I’m sorry yeh feel unwell. I’ll see what I can manage when we get home. It should only be a few hours, but if yeh need to rest, feel free. Won’t bother me none.” He brought his other hand to shield her eyes from the sun so she could look at him. He had a wide, strong face, with tousled hair and a beard. The whiteness of his hair had made him seem older, initially, but this close she could see they were likely of a similar age. “I’ve been watching out for yeh for a week. I don’t aim to stop now. Yeh’ll not come to any harm with me.”
Sirin searched his eyes, trying desperately to remember him. He acted like they were friends. Like they had been traveling together for a while. She felt terrible she couldn’t remember him at all but she did feel close to him somehow like she trusted him. She squeezed his hand shielding her from the sun. “Thank you. It’s nice to feel like I have someone on my side.”
1.I will be honest, looking back, knowing the severity of my brain injury, I am fairly proud of this theory.
2.Second time readers are likely laughing at how narrow my definitions of the capabilities of lunula were.
3.The people of Sanctuary speak Gailage, a language which shares some commonalities with several languages spoken by peoples of the Compact, though isolation has led to drift among related languages. Their accent is a rhotic, lilting brogue, characterized by several trademarks when they speak Common. They sometimes pronounce T as CH so “two” becomes “chew.” TH is often voiced as T so “three” is said “tree.” In words ending ING, the G is often dropped, and vowels are flattened, making “are” sound like “air.” Finally, consonants at the end of words can have a softly voiced “echo vowel.” Interested parties can learn more in The Language of Our Lady by Matilda Broderson.
4.Another hallmark of the people of Sanctuary is the bleaching of their hair by proximity to the source. Individuals who move to the area and the F1 generation can have their hair color restored by sufficient time away. F2 and beyond have intrinsically white hair, and though lunologists can alter this, the color will fade if not maintained. Interestingly, skin color does not seem to be affected, as the people of Sanctuary have a wide array of skin tones.
5.The people of Sanctuary, largely influenced by the shifters, tend to communicate non-verbally significantly more than other settlements of humans.
6.I have also seen this “och” and can be translated most often as “Oh.”
7.I’ve heard this framed as a library or mind palace, but many Citadel-trained lunologists build an index for the vast amounts of information we can memorize.
8.Lucky guess on my part, it was early morning.
Chapter six
Berne
IN WHICH OUR HERO SUFFERS A TORTUROUS JOURNEY, FIGHTS A BATTLE MOST VALIANT, AND PREPARES A STEW
Itwasn’tlongbeforethe swaying of his walking had his woman—no,Sirin—asleep on Berne’s chest. He could use some sleep himself, but he pushed on, trudging through the deep snow toward home.
Berne had set off for home immediately after dark and had roused Arndis an hour or so before midnight. Together, they’d gone to find a council representative, and he must have donesomethingto piss the Lady off because Gunna had been the councilor on call. She’dinsistedon being the one to accompany him, pecking at him to leave the other councilors to their rest, and considering she was the head of the council, he couldn’t find any way of arguing against it. The trip back to Sirin had taken almost twice as long since Arndis’s lemming form couldn’t travel nearly as fast as his bear or Gunna’s raptor. He could have carried her, but he was more tired than he would have liked to admit to either of them. He hadn’t had much time to hunt during the week he was tracking Sirin, so he’d been living off whatever he could fish or forage along the way.
Hours later, they were well beyond the tree line and the moon reflected off the layer of snow covering the vast fields surrounding Sanctuary’s mountains. Autumn had arrived a bit early this year. Only a few weeks ago, the tundra had been covered in low-lying brush, mosses, and vibrant flowers. Now, he could see nothing but white and rock all around him. Perhaps the variety of terrain is why he enjoyed his wide-ranging assignment so much; endless fields of snow got old quickly.
He sighed and looked down at Sirin, a decidedly more interesting sight. He frequently strapped his nieces to his chest or back while he did chores, even now that they were three.1They also tended to fall asleep when he carried them. This was almost the same—right?
Berne felt something cold on his chest and chuckled when he spotted the source; Sirin was drooling in her sleep. There was something so achingly vulnerable about it, sointimate,he couldn’t help brushing her hair off her face, just so he could touch her soft skin. Her cheeks were red and chapped from the cold wind, and he wished he had some cream to soothe them. He’d have to make sure he got some for her soon. Those soft cheeks shouldn’t look so red and angry and it cut him to the bone to see them so abused.
Just like when he carried his nieces, Sirin’s head was tucked under his chin and he was surrounded by her scent. His nieces’ warm, cuddly baby smells always made him feel calm and fiercely protective of them. With Sirin, her smell seemed to curl into his nose and settle deep in his body; she smelled of leather and herbs and something distinctly feminine. It still made him feel protective but in averydifferent way. A way that had him wanting to growl at anyone who would dare harm her, which was likely most of his village at this point. Her smell both warmed and excited him. He wasnotgoing to let them execute her. Someone who smelled so good and fresh could not possibly mean them harm.2
The scent of her was a minor distraction and if that had been all, he would have managed perfectly fine. The sounds and sensations of her in addition to her delicious scent were absolute torture and made each step a struggle.
Berne was familiar with how carrying someone like this alerted you to every wee sound they made. He loved hearing the tiny sighs and snuffling noises when he cared for his nieces. His heart nearly burst every time they rubbed their faces into his chest, or smacked their lips before settling back to sleep. And he adored it when he could settle them with a deep hum and pat on their bum if they had a nightmare.
When Sirin slept, his brain interpreted every sound she made as erotic and every slide of her body tantalized. She would sigh contentedly and he would immediately wonder howhecould make her replicate that sound. She’d moan and stretch, likely from pain or a nightmare, and it made him want to coax those sounds from her in pleasure, stretched out across his bed. Smacking drew his attention to pert lips he could imagine smiling around his cock and a yawn made him think of what it would be like to have her nodding off because he’d left her exhausted in the most delicious way.
