"You picked wild garlic from the ridge."
"It was right there. On the path. Growing. For free. Anyone could have picked it."
"No one did."
"Well—" My mouth opens and shuts three times and nothing useful comes out because he's just sitting there looking at me and the plate is almost empty and the garlic smell has mixed with cedar and pine and the cold air off the trees and I am in so much trouble, "—okay fine, maybe I didn't want you to eat alone tonight because I watched you sit in the dirt with a kid for an hour and nobody came near you and nobodybrought you so much as a piece of bread and that felt wrong, it felt really wrong, like everybody in this clearing loves you and nobody actually feeds you, and I don't know how a whole pack of wolves manages to look after each other without looking after the one person who looks after all of them, but apparently that's what's happening, and I couldn't just stand there scraping a pot and pretending I hadn't seen it, so yes, I seasoned the meat and yes, I picked the garlic on purpose because when you make food for someone you make it good, you don't just shove calories at them, you actually—"
I stop.
Because I hear what I'm saying roughly half a second after he does, and his eye has not left my face, and I am abruptly very aware that I just said when you make food for someone like he is a someone I am making food for, which, technically, yes, but also—
"—which is a general statement. About cooking. In general. For anyone. A known fact about food and effort." The words are coming out faster than I can steer them. "You're welcome. For the food. Which was practical."
His mouth curves up and the skin around his eye softens into a crease.
"I should go." My voice comes out higher than I want. "The fire pits need banking before morning. And I should check the—there are things. To check."
I stand up. My knees pop. Embarrassing. Very dignified exit.
He's still sitting against the wall. Plate empty. Knife across it.
"Eat tomorrow too."
He looks up at me.
"That's not a request." I don't look away. "That's—I'm telling you. Eat breakfast. Come to the fire. Get a bowl."
"Is the human giving orders now?"
"The human is telling you thatsufficientisn't good enough." I hold his gaze. "Goodnight, Keer."
His eye holds mine and he dips his chin, and that is the closest thing to a goodnight I'm going to get.
Chapter 8
"Take her to the southern ridge. Show her where the borders are before she wanders into Graw's territory and starts a war."
Axan leans against the doorframe of my dwelling. Arms folded. Face blank.
"You want me to walk the human through our territory lines."
"I want her to stop wandering into sections she can't identify."
"So tell her."
"I'm telling you."
He watches me.
"Take Kestria," I add. "Melori listens to her."
"Melori listens to everyone. That's not the problem." He pushes off the doorframe. "The problem is you won't be there to explain it yourself."
"I'll be on patrol."
"Northern circuit?"
"Does it matter?"
