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A hand on my shoulder shakes me, and I wake up, still screaming.
I blink in confusion to find myself in the dark tent, Thing hovering over me. The wolves are gone, and I’m so, so cold. I can’t stop shaking. Thing immediately pulls back. “Are you all right? You were screaming. And you’re half out of the sleeping bag,” he says.
I’m shaking so hard, and tears burst out of my eyes. “Hold me,” I cry.
“I thought you don’t like to be touched,” he says, but I just shake my head, barely knowing what I’m talking about but knowing I need it all the same. Somehow I know it will help.
“Hold me,” I cry again, “and squeeze.”
Everything is falling apart around me, and my shaking is so deep. I’m going to come apart if he doesn’t—
Already the dream is fading even though I’m trying to hold onto it. I shudder more. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the symbolism of my dream.
The terror of my uncle’s attack and the wolves all mixed into one terrifying dream. And my subconscious trying to get me to deal with the idea that my father might not have—
No. Papa’s stronger than me. He taught me everything I know. If I made it out, then so did he.
“Hold me!” I scream and there is no hesitation. Thing is right. During my struggling, I’ve come half out of my sleeping bag, likely why I’m so cold.
But then, finally, Thing’s six arms wrap around me.
“Tighter,” I say when he holds me too gently.
He squeezes with the pressure I knew I needed, and my tremors kick down a notch when he cocoons me. Being held in all six of his arms, wrapped up and down my body like the tightest protective shell, begins to calm my panic.
The buzzing in my head finally switches off. All the frantic thoughts settle, and there’s just white noise. And the feeling of being secured within his arms. A weighted blanket of peace. Quiet. Inside my head and out. And the longer he holds me, the more I warm up, too, his body heat transferring to me.
My eyes close, and I lay my head against his chest. How can he be warm when it’s so freezing outside? And he’s not even wearing a coat?
It’s my last stray thought as I drift off again, this time into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
THING
She falls asleep in my arms. I do not know how she can, especially after what I told her today. Especially when she usually seems to dislike touch. But I sensed there was something different about this touch.
Not casual, but an all-encompassing pressure hug that comforted her panicked, upset state. I was so terrified when I heard her scream in the tent.
My first thought was that another animal had somehow gotten in from the other side. That I had again failed her. I all but ripped my way into the tent, only to find her thrashing and screaming something that sounded like papa, no! half out of her bag. Her cheeks were chapped and red with cold, her lips deathly pale.
I was glad but terrified when she screamed for me to hold her. And finally taking her in my arms was like giving into my greatest wish. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I had not broken my oath and fallen asleep when I had promised not to. Because having her in my arms, her cold cheek nestled against my chest, felt like a dream.
Especially when I quickly felt the tension go out of her limbs in my embrace. As if she actually. . . found comfort in me.
Mine was the face and form that terrified men. That made them scream and piss themselves in their last moments before I carried them off to the other world.
This beautiful creature only finds comfort and rest in my arms.
The struggle of emotions stirring in my chest is so unfamiliar I don’t know what to do with them. I feel a renewed certainty that I’ll never abandon her in cowardly escape. I nestle my chin on her tiny, fragile head and apply the slight pressure she asked for, careful not to squeeze too tightly. It’s a delicate dance considering my strength as I hold her throughout the long night.
The fire dies down outside, but I don’t worry too much. It turns out that holding her like this allows a sharing of my body heat I never expected. Between us springs up a furnace of warmth. She’ll stay safe from the cold at night if I hold her. My very body can offer protection, another shocking thought.
I always believed so deeply that my only purpose in existence was to cause death and destruction. . .
But here she is, flipping everything on its head.
I breathe out heavily, struggling not to let my thoughts get ahead of themselves. Her warmth is a brief reprieve in my lonely life, so I will be glad of this gift and not squander another moment of it.
