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An ache in my side causes me to hiss through my teeth. I peel open my eyes to see a dense forest of trees. It is dark. I wonder if it’s been hours or only minutes since I passed out.
Soft murmurs of conversation float around me as several members of the pack go about setting up a fire and collecting water.
“Clara,” Oliver repeats my name. “Time to wake up.”
Lifting my face, I look at him. The worry in his scrunched brow eases, then the rest of him relaxes.
“Thank the saints, I was beginning to worry.”
I try to ask why, but my throat is parched, and my lips are so dry it feels like the skin will crack from the movement.
“You have been getting colder over the last hour,” he explains. “I thought…” Oliver shakes his head, not finishing the thought. “We’re a little over halfway to the Keep, but we need to get you warmed up.”
Not knowing what else to do, I nod and surrender to his orders.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CLARA
Oliver swingshis leg over Nyx and dismounts with little effort, with me still in his arms. He walks a short distance and stops before a fire.
“Do you think you can sit up by yourself?” he asks.
Again, I nod. I am surprised to find how quickly I’ve healed. My side is tender, and the skin feels a little tight. Beyond that, I am exhausted, as though all my strength has been depleted, and there is almost no pain. It’s as though the wound is over a week old.
Thank you,I whisper silently to Varin. They don’t respond with words, sending a flare of warmth blooming within my chest instead.
Oliver places me on a felled log, keeping an arm around my back. He hands me a water skin once he’s sure I won’t topple over. I take it gladly, lifting it to my lips and letting it soothe my throat. As I drink, he drapes a heavy cloak over my shoulders and wraps it around my arms and legs like a blanket.
He takes the water away, telling me not to drink too much at once as he sits down beside me. A thought flitters in the back of my mind, wondering if I should worry with the way Oliver is fussing over me.
Several wolves head off in pairs to hunt for small game, while one stays behind to start a fire and build a spit to cook meat while waiting for a pot of water to heat. The first pair of hunters bring back a wild hare. By the time it’s finished cooking, a few more have dropped off three more rabbits, two of squirrels, and seven birds of various kinds.
I am in a fog, barely noticing anything that isn’t directly in front of me. The voices of those around me are a distant, gentle hum. My fingers are stiff from cold as I clutch the edges of the cloak, so I lean forward, holding them out to soak up the warmth of the fire.
Oliver holds a small cup out before my face. I must have been dazed by the dancing flames because I hadn’t noticed him getting up. “Drink this, it should help warm you.”
I take it, curling my fingers around the smooth, carved wood. Dandelion petals float in the steaming amber liquid. The tea has a light earthy fragrance. I take a sip and notice it’s lightly sweetened with nectar. After finishing, Oliver refills the cup and watches me silently until I’m done.
The woman in charge of cooking tears a leg off the rabbit and brings it to Oliver.
“Thank you, Agatha.” He takes it with a smile and then hands it to me.
I try to refuse. She clearly intended it to be for him.
“Eat,” Agatha calls, back at her place across the fire. “He’s waiting for the squirrel.”
Oliver sends her a scowl. She smirks, which causes him to chuckle and shake his head. “I’m waiting for squirrel,” he repeats, unable to disguise a wince.
The aroma makes my jaw ache from watering. Though I mean to insist that he take the first piece, my stomach has other ideas and chooses this exact moment to growl.
“You need to regain your strength,” he adds.
I relent, accepting the offering, and bite into it. Rabbit has never been my favorite, but right now, I can’t recall ever eating anything so delicious. I suppose hunger will do that.
I remember thinking the same thing about the first loaf of bread I ever made. It was unevenly cooked, charred in places, undercooked in others, and so dense we had to dip it in tea before it was edible.
Once I finish, I cannot escape the somber expression that slips over Oliver’s face. The food settles in my stomach like a boulder because I’m not ready for what he wants to talk about.
