Page 141

Wren bit back the laugh rising inside of her. It was the most normal day they’d had since entering the forest, and for a moment, the world didn’t seem so bad.

Everyone drifted toward the fire. Calen dropped beside Jessa, still red to his ears and wordless. She folded her arms over her knees, looking almost casual—as if she hadn’t kissed him breathless in front of all of them only moments ago. The flush warming her skin betrayed her, but beneath it all was pure joy.

Wren cleared her throat. “So…what happened out there?”

Calen mumbled, “Weird creatures.”

Orzen leaned back with a grunt. “Creeping vines with teeth.”

Wren reached into her pack and pulled out a small tin. “You’re both scraped up. I can patch you—” She paused, a grin tugging as she tossed the tin to Jessa. “Unless you want to fix him up.”

Jessa caught it and glared at Wren, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re unbearable.”

“Only trying to help.” Wren smirked and looked away.

Jessa muttered something about men with death wishes, but she was still gentle when she applied the salve to Calen’s scrapes.

Garin pulled a dented pot from his pack, filling it with water from the pool and dropping mushrooms in, one by one until the surface resembled a sad, forest-stew. It was better than nothing.

Orzen’s hands were scraped, dried blood seeping into the cracks of his knuckles. While the others busied themselves, Wren leaned closer to him, voice low. “I’ll put something on that for you if you’ll tell me what really happened.”

“I’m fine,” Orzen said quickly. She gave him a look, and he sighed, offering his injured hand. “Tried to catch him. They caught me instead. Fast little things.”

Wren uncorked a small bottle and dipped her fingers into the salve. “You could’ve really gotten hurt out there…”

He flexed his fingers and winced as she spread the balm over his knuckles. It was impossible not to feel how strong his hands were within hers, but she tried to focus.

“I guess you’re right.” Then, his grin slipped sideways. “Would you have greeted me like that, if I had been?” he asked.

Her fingers stilled. It was only half a joke. The rest lingered between them as they fell into an awkward silence. The longer it stretched, the more her mind helpfully encouraged her to imagine what it might be like if she had pulled him closer.

What his lips might feel like if—

“I didn’t mean—” He yanked his hand away and she startled. “Gods, look at that. Garin needs help with the soup.” He stood too fast, nearly losing his footing, then added—too casually, “Your hair looks nice, by the way.”

Wren blinked and murmured, “Thank you,” automatically. Then she stumbled over to Jessa to check her work, a confusing mixture of joy and embarrassment curling inside of her.

Everyone circled by the fire to eat together. The stew had a pleasant, earthy scent, but when Wren looked in her tin she grimaced. This could hardly be called a stew. Still, the atmosphere around the campfire was almost normal—if “normal” meant hot, slimy water. Wren took a sip and frowned.

Mushrooms she could handle. This was…tragic.

“Garin…” Branwynn said, swallowing hers with visible effort. “I don’t mean any harm, but—“

“It’s awful,” he grunted. “Needs salt.”

“Needs a miracle,” Jessa said, shaking her head.

Across the fire, Orzen sat with Calen, head bowed in low conversation. The poor boy was flustered to pieces. Orzen’s chuckle—low and deep, curled through the clearing and something tender flickered beneath Wren’s ribs.

Then he looked up, caught her staring, and smiled. She dropped her gaze, but he was already crossing the circle.

He settled beside her, leaning in. “Need more?” He tipped his tin toward hers. “It’s too good to waste.”

“Absolutely not.” She gave a small laugh. “You know what I really want? My ma’s herb bread.”

“Think she’d let me have some after all this?” he asked, leaning back on his hands.

“It’s not your fault I’m here,” Wren murmured. “She’d probably bake some to thank you for keeping me alive.”