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9

CUDDLE UP BUTTERCUP

I nsects filled the night with cheerful music. The stars grew brighter, lighting the road that took us into the forest of memory trees. And here and there, when I could see them in the darkness, I stopped to pick up clusters of the sweet-smelling leaves that had been unseated by the storm. When Tearloch glanced back, irritated, I dropped the last cluster. No loss, though, since my pockets and satchel were ready to burst.

By the time Tearloch chose camp, the night had deepened, and glow stones were necessary to find wood for the fire. When we were all seated and meat was roasting over the flames, I looked around our circle and was gratified to have so many strong men as both obstacles and deterrents to any larger creatures lurking in the woods.

While we sated our appetites, the stars shifted overhead, their progress slow and steady, marking time, until I was too weary to look up anymore. I reached for my glow stone, to put it in my pocket, but hesitated when Sweetie grunted and pointed to it.

“Why does your stone glow so much brighter than ours?”

I bit my lip and considered whether to tell him the truth. But I could see no harm in it. “From time to time, I leave it on a bit of heartstone, so it can draw its energy from Hestia herself.” I felt about on the ground looking for a bit of the black stone that connected all of Hestia to its core, but I found none of it. “Nothing here. Maybe another time.”

“The road into Sunbasin is heartstone,” Tearloch said. “Show us tomorrow.”

I was disappointed. It meant I would have to restore my energy the old-fashioned way, with sleep. But first…I pulled out my sack of dragonspice.

“We are well away from your poisonous creatures.” Tearloch said, his eyes already closed as he reclined on the ground with his bent arm beneath his head. “I think you can save that.”

My view of the canyon was blocked by trees, but I could guess the distance. “You mean there is nothing dangerous here?”

“Nothing that small, no. Nothing that can be stopped by a pinch of pepper.”

Sweetie pointed to my expression and laughed along with the brothers. When none of them clarified, I turned to Minkin, who rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Anything big comes along, we’ll cook it and eat it.”

I turned, studied the dark trees behind me, then looked at Tearloch. His eyes were open, watching me. I reckoned that, since he was the one to unnerve me, he should be the one to protect me. So, I gathered my things and stomped his way, stretched out between him and the dying fire, and rested my head on my leaf-stuffed satchel, giving him my back.

One of those black gloved hands reached over to cover me with a wayward length of my robes, and a shiver ran up my spine. “Thank you,” I whispered.

A hiss from the fire was all the response I got.

Minkin curled up against the big one’s side and slept immediately. I was too aware of the man behind me to relax, imagining his breathing, wondering why I couldn’t hear it, regretting my impulsive move. But then again, I no longer worried about wild creatures watching from the perimeter.

Only after Tearloch began to snore softly did I finally drift off to sleep. I woke once in the night to find myself curled up against his back, absorbing the heat coming off him. But since he hadn’t moved away, I stayed where I was. Well before dawn, I woke shivering and alone. Tearloch sat on the far edge of the clearing with his back against a tree, looking off toward the road.

I hadn’t intended to sleep again, but I did. It seemed mere minutes later when a small hand gently shook me awake. The sky was only slightly lighter than before, but the air tasted of morning.

A sleepy Minkin blinked down at me. “We’re leaving.”

I waited for the others to head for the road before relieving my bladder, then I hurried to catch up. Tearloch growled over his shoulder. “You can dally all you wish once we reach Sunbasin. Until then?—”

“I can’t hold my water until we reach the city. Leave me behind if you must. I can fend for myself.”

He scoffed. “You wouldn’t last the day on your own.” He faced the road again. “But be prepared. Once we are safely inside the city, we will go our separate ways.” To his big friend walking beside him, he said in a low voice. “I doubt she will get far with just a pocketful of memory leaves.”

I was fairly certain he hadn’t meant for me to hear the last bit. And as I hung back and allowed the rest of the party to move ahead of me, I wondered at the icy edge to Tearloch’s tone. Had it offended him that I dared move so close to him in the night? I hadn’t done it consciously. Or had he simply remembered that once we reach the city, we would be at cross-purposes.

He wanted his friend rehabilitated.

I wanted him dead.

* * *

In the afternoon, with insects buzzing and starwings fluttering across our path without a thought about blue dragons, it was difficult to remember our days were numbered. And I wondered if the people around me were giving it much thought either.

Bain and Dower teased each other constantly, breaking into laughter at almost regular intervals. I never heard them debating other things they’d rather be doing with their last days. Nor did they discuss their missing brother. They did sober, however, each time Tearloch gave an order, but they followed those orders without question.

They were definitely handsome, and if it weren’t for the obvious difference in age—Dower being both taller and younger than Bain—they might have been mistaken for twins. But their personalities were markedly different, especially where I was concerned.

Bain was kind and smiled genially whenever our eyes met. Dower, on the other hand, didn’t like me in the least. My hunger for his oldest brother’s head probably had something to do with it. But if he saw me as a threat, his brother did not. Either Bain had little faith that his brother could be saved, or he had little faith in my ability to draw blood.

Only time would tell.

As always, Sweetie strode down the road at Tearloch’s side, like a second in command. Those two laughed now and then, but not with the abandon of the younger two. And they were comfortable lumbering on for miles without a word between them.

Minkin and I were sandwiched in between, and I suspected Minkin would maintain that same position whether or not I was there. A sister figure protected by a vanguard and a rear guard who were always watchful, always aware of strangers entering and exiting the road.

And Minkin liked flowers.

Each time we happened to pass a cluster of blossoms within twenty yards of the road, Sweetie would stop, often mid-conversation with Tearloch, to pick a handful of stems. He’d deliver them to Minkin, and without even glancing at her, return to Tearloch’s side to resume their conversation. After the third such gift in the span of an hour, she had trouble holding them all, and after Sweetie hurried away, she offered some to me.

I dutifully held them to my nose, enjoyed the cheerful yellows and blues, but I couldn’t bring myself to weave every little blossom into my hair like Minkin did. After a while, when the smallest of my flowers began to wilt, I chose the sturdiest stem to tuck behind my ear and tossed the rest to the side of the road.

When we stopped to rest, I noticed a patch of purple blossoms I couldn’t name. The two brothers lounged so close they bumped them with their elbows. And yet, neither of them thought to gather a few for Minkin. It was then I realized the significance…

Only Sweetie brought her flowers.

Once we were all refreshed, we returned to the road and I studied Sweetie more closely. It kept me entertained and distracted me from the sun beating down on my head and trying to penetrate through my white clothing.

He and Tearloch chatted away, though I understood so little of their conversations, I stopped trying to listen. Every now and again, the big man would stretch his arms and shoulders, then rotate his head just enough to check on Minkin. The first few times I witnessed it, I assumed he worried about her short legs keeping pace with the rest of us. Then I realized he enjoyed looking at her.

The miniature woman with the unique hair didn't seem to notice how often this happened. But when he caught her eye, she gave him a quick smile. Never complaining, never slowing, never asking for a moment to rest, even though she had to take two steps to every one of ours. Her chin maintained a proud tilt, and her mind appeared to be as busy as her feet. Demius would have called her a ball of raw Hestian energy.

Just as notable as Sweetie’s interest was Tearloch’s disinterest. His attention was on the road and its occupants, and when he did turn to look behind him, he always looked over his left shoulder, not his right, purposefully refusing to notice us. Or maybe it was just me he fought to ignore.

When I realized his game, I couldn't help but torture him by ducking off the path for a minute or two, walking parallel to the road but just out of sight. Each time Sweetie glanced behind him, using one reason or another, I would be in a different place or missing altogether. In the beginning, he seemed confused. Then, after a glance and a murmur from his friend, he struggled to hide his smile. The next time Sweetie glanced back, he sent me a wink.

Next, I moved up behind Tearloch, so close I hoped he could feel me there, or at the very least, hear my footsteps. Sweetie made no pretense for glancing back this time, then he laughed aloud at the road ahead.

"What's wrong with you?" Tearloch growled.

"Not a thing," the big man answered.

After a moment, Tearloch lowered his voice and said, "She's right behind me, isn't she?"

Sweetie just laughed. Tearloch finally stopped and turned to confront me, but I'd slipped to the back of the pack again with my head turned while I appreciated the low purple hills in the distance.

The brothers stopped short, as did we all. Bain held up his hands. "Are we stopping?"

Tearloch growled like an animal, gave Sweetie a withering look, then barked, “Yes. We're stopping. I hear water. Find it. I don't intend to walk into the city already in need. Fill every horn.” He removed his own and tossed it to Dower. To Sweetie, he added, “If you don’t gather your wits, I’ll fill your horns as well.” Then, to no one in particular, “My mood has soured. I need food,” as he marched off into the bushes.

Minkin turned and blinked at me. "Why?"

I blinked back, not understanding.

"Why torture the man?"

I shrugged. "Boredom?"

She chided me with a wag of her head. "Find other amusement."

The brothers nodded in agreement.

"Understood," I said. Tearloch was not to be teased.

Sweetie, on the other hand, chuckled as he went off in the same direction Tearloch had taken.

A line of straggly trees struggled to thrive between the road and a meager stream. It was impossible to tell which of the three originated first, but I suspected it was the stream. There was no other reason for the road to take a similar path, though it diverted a few times for the easiest route up a hill, always returning to the water’s path. Out of necessity, animals had to come near the road for a drink, so I wasn't surprised when the brothers quickly came up with a pair of briartails, so we could have a quick supper of fresh meat. The hides were saved for bartering.

With signs of the city on the horizon, I was too excited to eat much and picked at the portion I’d been given.

“What is the matter with her?” I heard Tearloch’s voice from the edge of the clearing, but I didn’t look up.

Sweetie answered quietly. “Perhaps she worries about being alone in the city.”

“You would rather we lead her to Huxor?”

I rolled my eyes and looked away, over my shoulder. The brothers were playing with rocks, juggling them. The game devolved and they ended with chucking the rocks at each other. Even when Bain was caught in the head and yelped, he wasn’t angry.

“The sibling relationship has always amazed me,” I said. I’d seen the same give-and-take between Viggo and his brothers, on the rare occasion that I’d been able to spy on them.

Bain chuckled. “Because we forgive offenses?”

“No. Because you seem to enjoy offending each other. I assume the same was true with your other brother.”

The discussion on the other side of the fire, between Sweetie and Minkin, ended abruptly. They gaped at me. Tearloch stared, not at me, but at the brothers. I grimaced and dipped my head to the pair. "I'm sorry. I have no right to mention him."

Both brothers shrugged off my apology. “No harm done,” Bain said. “I like to talk about the Huxor we have always known. And yes, he teased with us…until he became the head of the family, and he sobered a great deal.”

“None of it matters now,” Dower muttered, “now that death has come on blue wings. We’ll likely never find him. But it would be nice…” He looked me in the eye. “We have things we’d like to say?—"

“What he’s trying to tell you,” Tearloch interrupted, “is that we are family, the six of us. And if we’re going to die, we want to do it together. You might ask what will Sweetie’s horns matter when we might only have days? And I would counter, if you knew death was imminent, wouldn’t you wish to face it as your true self?

“We say we want to change Huxor back, to free him from the sorcerer’s taint, but that might not be possible. Still, it doesn’t matter either, so much as…the family being whole again. Facing our fate will be easier if we’re whole.”

They all nodded in agreement. Dower looked up at the sky—maybe judging the time of day, but more likely, looking for something winged and blue. The others followed suit. All except Tearloch, who stared at me. Not so harshly this time, which made my stomach feel funny. I kept telling myself I wasn't interested in his kindness. I wasn't interested in a soft look from the man. But damned if I didn't like it.

And despite that look, his message was clear. The six of us are family . And that didn’t include me.