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“You could have helped by not losing my belt pouch. There was a fire-steel. Had I it now, the campfire would already be warming your tired feet.”

Cathy rolled her eyes. “Well. Sorry for saving your life. Can I do something now?”

Andor eyed her. “Can you start a fire?”

“No.”

“Then you can learn. I am not going to do this every time. Come here.”

Cathy sat next to him by the hearth-board. The scent of her, flowery and crisp, tickled his nostrils, igniting something hot and predatory in his stomach. He exhaled, chasing the hunger away. It was just a normal male reaction to an attractive woman. A woman he would not touch.

He returned to the stick and twirled it between his palms. “I must twirl it until coal forms from the hearth-board wood and drops onto the dry leaves and sticks below. The hardest part is to twirl and press downward at the same time. If both of us work at it, we can do it faster.”

Cathy nodded. “Sure. Do you want me to twirl or to press?”

I want you to do both, gently, and not to this stick.

Loki. Andor suppressed a groan.

“Press,” he said. “Take a flat piece of rock, like that one.” He nodded towards one lying nearby. “Press against the stick with your weight while I do the twirling.”

“Okay,” Cathy said.

She picked up the rock and positioned it on top of the stick, her head bent over it, close to Andor’s. He could see her beautiful face, her scent reaching him. He held his breath for a moment, then cursed inwardly and returned his attention to the stick.

He began twirling, and it was much easier with Cathy’s help. Soon, the dark sawdust began falling through the notch onto the dry leaves. He moved his hands, fast, and the wood was giving in, blackening under the spindle. Cathy’s presence next to him was sweet and distracting. He realized that they had begun breathing in one rhythm, and he coughed, uncomfortable from the warmth of her nearness. His palms ached and his hands were tired when coals finally fell on the tinder and it began smoking.

Andor stopped the twirling and signaled for Cathy to get back, which brought relief but also a protest. He lowered himself towards the tinder, which lay on a piece of wood, and blew on it gently. Fire sparkled and caught, and he carried it over to a small arrangement of kindling, brushwood, and firewood.

When the scorching tinder landed there, fire caught, and Andor blew some more until he was sure the fire would not be extinguished by the wind. When it burned strong and warm, he looked at Cathy, who watched him with an expression of wonder.

“Next time, you will twirl,” he said to chase away the warmth that the look planted inside of him.

* * *

During the next three days, Andor and Cathy fell into a sort of routine. They found a trail that led them in the right direction and followed it. Being careful, they hid behind trees whenever they heard the pounding of hooves or saw anyone in the distance. They passed by woods and swamps and rolling hills. Snow fell only once, covering the ground in a gentle white dusting.

Cathy stopped her questions and stopped staring at him as if she were seeing a living ghost, but Andor found himself staring at her more often that he liked.

When she was not hounding him with questions, she was a good road companion.

“Gather brushwood for the fire,” he would say when they found find a place to stay for the night.

“Sure,” she would answer and walk into the woods.

“I can take the first watch and wake you up in a couple of hours,” she would offer after dinner.

Even after a long day of walking she did not complain of being tired, although he could see the dark circles under her eyes.

A familiar warmth of companionship settled in his chest, the same feeling he had when he was on the road with his loyal sword-brothers.

Thankfully, they did not say much apart from if they needed to stop or who would gather firewood and who would keep watch.

Andor did not know how she could still walk after eating only stale bread while he feasted on grilled hares and fowls.

On the third morning, Cathy woke up and looked into her purse then closed it with a concerned look. “I’m out of bread. What can I forage in winter that’s edible?”

Andor chuckled. “Hare,” he said and offered her the leg he had grilled last night.