Chapter 19
After killing the snakes, Baron and I developed a tentative friendship, whatever I told him otherwise.
The harsh onset of winter changed daily life at camp.
It began to snow occasionally and all the men stayed in camp full-time.
Fewer and fewer reports trickled in, and physical trainings became shorter and less frequent.
Baron’s duties became lighter and he had more free time with how few reports came in from the officers he oversaw.
Everyone seemed concerned with just two things—staying warm and being fed.
Baron continued to cook for us, though at one point, he managed to convince me to try my hand at preparing dinner, and after one bite, we both laughed and agreed that it was the last time I should ever do so.
There wasn’t much to do except watch Baron cook and wait for spring to come. To keep ourselves occupied, we would have rock-throwing contests, which Baron always won. We would have axe-throwing contests, which I always won, and we told stories to pass the time.
“Didn’t your mother or father ever tell you any of these?” I asked incredulously one morning, after I had finished telling a common children’s story that Baron claimed he’d never heard before.
“No,” he said. “My mother couldn’t read and my father wasn’t much of a storyteller.”
I remembered what Baron had said during the first week we had been chained together about being on his own for most of growing up and became faintly curious about Baron’s past. I rubbed my arms, trying to ward off the chill of winter settling in.
“Baron,” a man called, coming up to the campsite with a large wrapped bundle. “I have the—”
“Thank you,” Baron interrupted, and gave a sharp shake of his head so the man wouldn’t continue. He took the package. “I trust there were no troubles getting it?”
“Plenty of trouble,” the man grumbled. “I had to go a long way, it was cold, and you said to keep it quiet, so—”
“Thank you for that, then. I appreciate your continued silence.”
The man left, grumbling all the while, and Baron ducked into the tent, where he stashed the package on his side of the space. I, of course, followed—but in this case, my curiosity took me as much as the chain.
“What’s in there?” I asked the moment he turned back to me.
“You’ll find out tonight,” he said with a small smile. “You really need to learn patience.”
“I’d rather just know.”
“And you will know.” He shot me a sideways grin. “Tonight.”
For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop myself from looking over toward where the large bundle was placed and guessing about what could be inside, and coming up with nothing.
Even before we were ready to bed down for the night, I dragged Baron into the tent. “Bedtime,” I announced.
“It’s still light outside,” he pointed out, his good-natured grin still firmly in place. “It can’t be time to sleep yet. Why are you so eager?”
“You know why, and my curiosity is about to kill me.”
“Fine, fine,” he said. Bending low, he picked up the package and threw it at me. “Merry Christmas.”
I froze. “Christmas?”
“I know I’m a few weeks early. Open it.”
My fingers shook slightly as I tore off the brown paper and pulled out a thick cloak. It was enormous—large enough to fit even Baron. “For me?” I asked in shock.
“That’s usually what it means when someone tells you ‘Merry Christmas’ and gives you a present,” he chortled. “I thought you’d like it now. You seem to be cold all the time.”
I held it up. “Well, it’s a beautiful tent! Thank you.”
He laughed easily. “Extra warmth. I told them to get one my size so they wouldn’t be suspicious. There should be something else, too.”
Rolled up tight at the bottom of the package was a padded bedroll.
“I figured the sheriff wouldn’t be eager to issue you one of your own, and I wouldn’t be a good caretaker if my captive kept sleeping on the ground every night.”
I stared in amazement, warmth blossoming in my chest. “How did you get it without me knowing?”
Baron grinned, pleased with my incredulity. “I told Bilius to get them. You stopped reading all my reports so I included it when you weren’t looking. Just don’t tell the sheriff. I don’t think he would appreciate it.”
I ran my fingers over the cloak then beamed at Baron. “You’re the best enemy I’ve ever had.”
The cloak was so big that it was more like a blanket, and I immediately fastened it around my shoulders, despite the fact that it trailed on the ground behind me when I walked, so that glorious heat began to seep in.
“Do you like it?” Baron asked, already rolling out the padded mat for me.
“I love it. I love it all.”
That night, I had the best sleep I ever had at the camp.