Chapter 14 #2
His tail unwound from around my ankle only at the very last moment, and then he slipped out of the tunnel and disappeared.
I watched him go with mixed feelings, worried about the small male sleara and worried about Ekkire’s hand.
It took him a while to come back, but I felt less alone now that Dove was here.
She was eagerly playing fetch with the stick.
Her body was so much smaller than a dog or cat that it was both adorable and funny to watch.
In fact, she was perhaps no bigger than an average-sized rat, though the wings made her seem larger, and her tail was much thicker.
A tiny little winged bunny, hopping through the cave, glowing silver in the dark, and chirping in pleasure each time she got her stick. It was enough to melt anyone’s heart.
Eventually, Ekkire returned without the blue sleara male.
He slid silently back into the tunnel and said absolutely nothing as he casually tossed the backpack up through the narrow hole.
“Did it fly off?” I asked as he dipped to very carefully gather me in his arms. A tiny voice at the back of my head still wanted to protest that I didn’t need his help, but it was much smaller now.
Ekkire didn’t think of me as weak or useless. I didn’t have to prove myself to him.
“He did,” the Water Weaver male agreed, his frown so fierce I briefly wondered if I’d done something to upset him.
Then I recalled the blood I’d seen on his thumb; he was probably annoyed that the sleara had bitten him.
Yeah, that was much more likely. I should probably have a look at that.
Heck, that would give me the perfect excuse to fuss over him a little.
For some reason, I rather liked that thought.
Did anyone ever take care of Ekkire? I knew I didn’t let people in that way, but him? I didn’t think anyone even tried.
It was a very tight fit to squeeze through the hole while he carried me and Dove in his arms. The tiny sleara also didn’t help, clinging to the front of my coat with huge eyes, her wings stretched wide and partly in my face.
Apparently, she’d forgotten how big and bright it was outside, because she abruptly burrowed beneath my collar and huddled there, the end of her new, now dusty rather than soggy, stick poking me in the throat.
“Your leg, did I jar it?” Ekkire asked when he finally managed to slide us through.
He lifted with his tail, casually raising me several feet higher into the air.
The break throbbed fiercely, and it was definitely getting worse again as the Hura bark painkiller wore off.
I didn’t really feel like chewing on more of the bitter, musty bark, but I would.
The last thing I wanted was to slow us down now.
“You didn’t; you were very careful,” I said.
It was easier not to be so testy around him now.
I mean, we were practically lovers after that bizarre and intense make-out session this morning.
At Haven, I’d felt so trapped; I’d had my hackles up the entire time.
Faking being friendly, snapping when I couldn’t, and spending all my time training and trying to get approved to go on hunts.
As much as it sucked to have broken my leg and gotten bruised all over, I was feeling so much more like myself out here, with just him.
He didn’t reply, still looking furious, those spiky brow ridges lowered over his eyes.
The emerald hue was practically glowing with some intense emotion, too.
A feeling began to creep down my spine—apprehension, maybe.
Had I upset him in some way after all? I began racking my brain and could only come up with the incident with the sleara.
It had bitten him, but I really didn’t think that would have angered him this much.
Not when he’d gone out of his way to feed Dove on several occasions.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I was a big girl; I could handle the answer.
Besides, we’d built enough of a relationship that I could just ask that, hadn’t we?
I actually cared about the answer. His eyes had been on the trees, searching, checking our surroundings.
Now they snapped to my face, which began heating because I realized I’d been completely careless myself.
I hadn’t checked anything but had relied entirely on Ekkire’s assurance the area was safe. Wow, did I really trust him that much?
“Nothing is wrong, little hunter,” he said.
Not the first time he’d called me that, but the first time I heard the petname exactly for what it was: an endearment, not a slight.
He called me little not because I lacked skill, but because I really was tiny compared to his massive body and long tail.
Why wouldn’t he call me that? His voice had also grown softer, a little less snarly.
When I kept staring, he flicked out his tongue, the split tip briefly tasting the air before vanishing.
“I am considering which tree has the best fresh growth to cut a bow rod from. That one seems likely, what do you think?” He pointed with the tip of his tail at a tree to my left.
I gazed at it, noting that several new growths were the right thickness and a decent length.
Unfortunately, I was not practiced enough yet to recognize if it was even the right tree.
“Okay? I’ve only been here one winter. I’m still learning about the local plants…
” It came out sort of angry, and I winced.
It wasn’t my fault I didn’t know enough yet.
It was hard to get anyone to teach me when snow covered everything.
Ekkire wasn’t going to hold that against me, at least, I didn’t think he would.
He didn’t even respond to my tone, well, unless you counted the way his mouth curled just slightly at one corner.
“Very well.” He carried me across the rubble-strewn clearing just outside the tunnel toward the tree he’d indicated.
Then he explained, in the surliest, gruffest tone ever, what I needed to know about wood selection for bows.
It helped, that tone, weirdly enough. Ekkire just didn’t like to talk, and he was always a tad grumpy.
He wasn’t put out having to tell me; I was pretty sure he’d sound like that talking to anyone.
When I indicated I definitely knew how to do the crafting part, he cut the branch he’d picked and handed me his knife.
“I’ll sort the string,” he announced, and he left me right there, on the edge of the trees, with a knife and a stick of wood in my lap.
It made me smile so widely I thought my cheeks might split.
No questions, no guarded watching to make sure I knew what I was doing.
He took my word for it, and he just went on to do his part.
I was so happy right then, I almost broke out into song.
“No, Dove,” I warned when she stuck her head out of my coat and eyed my new bow staff with a glint of avarice in her mercury eyes.
“This is my stick,” I warned her, “and it’s way too big for you.
” I had to warn her away when she tried to put her teeth on the end, but she was quickly distracted by the curls of bark I began stripping from one side of the rod.
Scuttling around nearby, chasing after each strip I cut off, she seemed to have gotten over her fear of the bright outside in a hurry.
When a chirp kee kee sounded from behind my elbow, she froze.
We both turned to look and discovered a tiny gray-blue snout peeking out from under a nearby bush.
The sleara, he hadn’t left. He looked very wary, something feral glinting in the bright amethyst of his eyes.
“It’s okay, boy. I won’t hurt you, promise,” I crooned at him.
That made him huff, and he disappeared back under the bush.
Dove had sat down again, with her wings folded and her tail curled. A very pretty, but also closed-off sort of posture. She had her head tilted studiously away from where the blue sleara had disappeared. One paw was perched on the last curl of bark she’d captured.
I thought he’d vanish now, and we’d never see him again, but a moment later he appeared beneath the bush again.
A chirp drew my attention back to him, but Dove definitely still didn’t look.
He lowered his small snout and nosed a stick forward, rolling it across the dry grass toward me.
“Oh, a stick? Is it for Dove?” I asked, surprised.
Don’t tell me there were two of them out here who enjoyed sticks.
Dove was already being such a weirdo about it.
The sleara at Haven all collected shiny things, or edible things.
Dove twitched, but when I said, “Look, Dove. He brought you a stick,” she finally looked.
Her eyes grew large at the sight of the mossy, smallish twig, and she pounced on it with an excited skreee.
Then she snatched it up and quickly scurried behind my knee for some very satisfied gnawing.
I couldn’t be certain, but it looked to me like the small blue male was very satisfied with this.
He disappeared before I could try to entice him with food or perhaps a curl of bark. When Ekkire came back a short while later, there was no trace of him. My green hunter paused, however, and flicked out his tongue. “Did he come back?” he asked, surprised but sounding hopeful.
“Yeah,” I said. “He brought Dove a stick. Do you think he’s trying to court her? Aren’t they both still a little young?” Dove was so small compared to Kiwi and Buzz back at Haven. The blue fellow was only slightly bigger than her, definitely young as well.