Her lids slipped shut as she was pulled into sleep, too tired after staying up most of the night prior.
Something tickledthe tip of her nose.
She wrinkled her nose, hand rising to lazily brush it away.
It happened again.
Her breath stalled in her lungs as her eyes opened.
She jerked back, bark scraping her flesh.
The man knelt before her, his hand a hair’s breadth from her face.
"It’s you," she breathed. "You’re back."
Instead of moving away, his hand drifted to the back of her head. White light filled the air, and she melted.
"What is that? Your Stella?" she asked. "I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes me feel… happy."
He met her eyes. He jerked his hand away as if her words had burned him.
His skin was clean of ash, but he was still nude.
"It is not made for you to understand."
"Oh." She frowned, reaching for the basket and pulling out a pair of dark, patched breeches—they belonged to her brother. "For you. It’s… cold."
His eyes narrowed, but he took them and stood, uncaring of his nudity as he tugged the breeches over his hips. He sat carefully, tugging at the snug fabric against his thighs.
She tugged free a few bandages and a pot of salve.
"I have this. It is for wounds. Your back—it is—you need to be tended to." Her confidence wavered the longer he stared at her.
"I will heal. I do not need your help." He turned to look at her, and she saw more cuts and scrapes on his skin.
"It is not wrong to need help. Just because you will heal, does not mean I cannot help you."
"If you must," he said, turning back to the meadow.
She unscrewed the tin, dipping her fingers in the cool, thick salve.
"This might sting," she warned softly.
She touched his back, fingers light as she smoothed the salve over the scrapes. Some were thin and red, clean as if he’d dipped himself in a body of water, but others were dark with dirt and ash. With a light touch, she used a cloth to carefully clean them.
His back muscles flexed under her touch. When she was done, she moved to his neck, his throat dipping. When she got to his face, his jaw ticked.
Her eyes raised. He was already staring at her.
"Only a few more."
He nodded.
There was a small cut near his hairline. She brushed his hair away, rising on her knees.
This close, she could see the darkness in his eyes—unnatural.
"What are you?" she couldn’t help but ask.
