Chapter 13
ELLIE
The world came back to me in pieces. Warmth first, then the scent of smoke and earth and herbs.
My mouth tasted like old pennies, and when I tried to swallow, my throat scraped.
As more awareness returned, an ache spread across my entire body, with more intense pain along my right thigh.
I opened my eyes to firelight playing across unfamiliar rocky walls that tapered up and over me to form the ceiling.
A cave, but not cold and damp. It was warm and comfortable and familiar somehow…
Memories, choppy and distorted, flowed through my mind.
Pain, and cold, so cold. I’d shivered and sweated.
I must have had a fever. But then gentle hands, one holding mine, the other wiping my face with something blissfully cool.
Daska’s? No, they weren’t as big as Daska’s, but I remembered his face above mine, a mask of concern.
He’d been worried about me, I realised. His voice, low and soothing, speaking words I couldn't understand while he. ..
Oh God.
I reached down under the furs and confirmed my worst suspicion.
I was completely naked. Heat flooded my face.
He'd stripped my clothes and washed me with cool, wet cloths.
He must have seen everything. The shame was immediate and suffocating, made worse by the fact that I could still feel the ghost of his touch.
He's a healer, I told myself firmly. He was saving your life. It doesn't mean anything.
But my face stayed hot anyway.
I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.
The world tilted sideways, my head suddenly too heavy for my neck and pain exploded behind my forehead.
My right thigh throbbed—a hot, tight ache that made me grit my teeth.
When I looked down, I found my leg carefully elevated on what looked like a rolled hide.
Clean bandages made from some kind of supple animal skins covered the wound, bound with strips of leather.
The ominous red streaks had faded away, and though it hurt, I no longer felt feverish.
Daska had taken care of me. Possibly even saved my life. Blood poisoning was no joke, even in the modern world.
Panels of hide covered the cave entrance, voices drifted through from the outside.
I cocked my head, listening with wonder at the sound of children playing.
The rhythmic thunk of something being chopped.
A woman's voice calling out, followed by answering laughter.
The kind of background noise that said community and safety and home.
I wasn't in danger. Not right now.
The realization made something tight in my chest finally loosen.
The hide screen covering the entrance rustled, and I tensed automatically before Daska ducked inside, pulling the furs tighter to my chest and making sure I was completely covered. He moved carefully in the low space, his broad shoulders briefly blocking the light before he settled beside me.
He looked tired. Shadows under his eyes, deeper lines around his mouth than I remembered. But when he saw I was awake, his whole face softened and he smiled widely.
"Hey," I tried to say, but it came out as a croak.
He was already reaching for a water skin, unstoppering it with quick efficiency. He helped me sit up and brought the opening to my lips.
The water was cold and sweet and I drank too fast, coughing a little. He pulled it back, waited, then offered it again. This time I sipped more carefully, feeling the coolness trace down my throat and settle in my stomach.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He made a soft sound, and touched the back of his hand to my forehead. His skin was warm, and I found myself leaning into the touch before I could stop myself.
Daska pulled his hand back and said something in his language. The words were low and musical, completely incomprehensible, but his tone was gentle and reassuring. He gestured to my leg, eyebrows raised in question.
"It hurts," I admitted, "but it's better. I think." I touched the bandages carefully then gestured at him. "You did this?"
He seemed to understand my meaning if not my words, because he nodded and said something else, then mimed drinking. When I looked confused, he pointed to a wooden bowl near the fire pit. It looked like some kind of tea, with steam still rising from the surface.
"For me?" I asked, placing my hand on my chest.
Another nod. He reached for it, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait. I—" How did I even begin to say this? "Thank you. For everything. For saving me, and for..." I gestured vaguely at myself, at the shelter, at the careful bandages. "All of it. I know I was... I probably wasn't easy to deal with."
He watched me as I spoke, his dark eyes serious and attentive. I had no idea how much he understood, but I reached out and laid my hand gently over his heart.
“Thank you,” I repeated softly. Something in his expression said he caught the important parts. He reached out slowly and covered my hand with his for a brief moment, then pulled away and reached for the bowl, passing it carefully to me.
The tea was bitter but warming, with a herbal edge that reminded me of chamomile.
I drank it slowly while Daska watched, and tried not to think about how aware I was of him.
The quiet steadiness of his presence. The way he moved with such careful precision in the small space, never crowding me but always close enough to help if I needed it.
He's just doing his job, I reminded myself. You're a patient. That's all.
But when I finished the tea and tried to hand him back the bowl, our fingers brushed. And the little spark of warmth that shot up my arm felt like anything but professional. Unfortunately, all that did was draw my attention to how I looked. I felt disgusting.
The fever was gone, and I knew Daska had washed my body at least once, but my hair matted against my scalp, and my skin was itchy with days of laying in bed.
"I need to wash," I said, more to myself than to him. "Is there... water? Somewhere I could..."
I gestured vaguely, trying to mime washing, rubbing my hands in my hair and pulling an exaggerated expression of disgust. Daska's expression shifted to something like understanding and then he laughed and nodded. He glanced toward the entrance, then back at me, considering.
Then he stood in one smooth motion and held out his hand.
I stared at it. "I can walk."
He waited, patient and unmoved.
"Seriously, I just need..." I tried to push myself up and immediately the world swam. My leg screamed in protest, a hot spike of pain that made me gasp. I would have fallen if Daska hadn't caught me, his hands steady on my shoulders.
Okay. Point made.
He said something that sounded almost like scolding, and before I could protest further, he'd wrapped the bedding fur tightly around my body and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
"Wait, I can—" But the objection died in my throat as he adjusted his grip, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. He was so warm, and solid, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest.
I clutched at his shoulders automatically, hyper-aware of every point of contact of his skin against mine. The breadth of him. The easy strength in the way he held me. The earthy smell of him.
This is fine. This is just practical. He's helping.
But my face burned anyway.
He carried me out of the shelter into bright morning light.
I squinted against it, catching glimpses of the camp as we moved.
Shelters made from hides stretched over wooden frames clustered around fire pits.
People moving between them—men and women both, dressed in layers of fur and leather.
Children running, laughing. Someone skinning what looked like a deer.
A few people glanced our way, but no one seemed surprised or concerned. If anything, they looked accepting. Like the sight of their healer carrying an injured stranger was perfectly normal.
Because it probably is, I realized. This is what they do. They take care of each other.
The thought made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with fever, and for a moment, I longed for my mum, the only real family I’d ever had.
Daska carried me down a slope toward the sound of running water.
The camp sat in a valley, sheltered from the wind by low hills on either side.
Snow still clung to the higher peaks, but down here the ground was mostly clear, brown earth dotted with patches of tough grass.
Trees clustered along a low, wide river, and I heard the rush and gurgle of fast-moving water over stones.
It should have been cold. It was only early spring, the air still carrying winter's bite. But wrapped in Daska's arms, surrounded by his warmth, I felt safe from it.
He took me to a place where the river widened, deep at the far side, but on this side, it eddied into a shallow pool, sheltered by an outcropping of rock that blocked the worst of the wind. Sunlight reflected off the surface, steam rising in thin wisps where the water ran over sun-warmed stones.
He'd chosen this spot deliberately. Of course he had.
Daska set me down carefully on a flat rock near the water's edge, making sure I was stable before he let go. Then he straightened and gestured to the pool, saying something I didn't understand but could guess the meaning of.
This is for you.
I nodded, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. The thought of undressing, of being naked in front of him again, made my stomach flip. But I also desperately wanted to be clean.
Daska seemed to read my hesitation, because he said something briefly, then turned and headed back the way we’d come, leaving me alone.
Oh.
The relief was immediate and embarrassing. Of course he'd thought of that. Of course he'd give me space.