Page 14 of Rose's Untamed Bear

"Rose? Where have you…" Mother took one look at me and stopped. "Oh, dear." She folded me into her arms, and I cried some more.

From somewhere, Snow appeared. Neither one of them asked me a thing. They just held me until I cried myself out. Until I was ready to collapse in exhaustion where I stood. Wordlessly, they helped me out of my clothes, put on my nightshirt, and led me to my bed, where I curled up again, staring at the empty spot by the hearth where Magnus used to lie. Deep in my heart, I knew he wouldn't come back. That stupid, stupid man thought he or Magnus would hurt me.

Like either one ever could.

Why couldn't he trust like I did?

A cool washcloth wiped my overheated face, easing the swelling of my lids. The warm aroma of one of Mother's brews reached me, and Snow helped me up to drink it. Whatever they gave me, it finished the job, and I fell into a deep sleep.

The sleep wasn't restful, though. Even then, my mind and heart were tortured by the unavoidable truth that both Derrick and Magnus were gone. That they had left me.

I know I cried in my sleep because the next morning, my pillow was wet, and both Mother and Snow had dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep. They forced me to eat and drink, but not to get out of bed. I knew I should have checked the traps, but I couldn't muster the willpower to get up. Not even when I thought about our dwindling food supplies.

"Oh!" Snow exclaimed the next evening when she opened the door to get more firewood.

"What is it?" Mother asked.

I didn't even open my eyes. They burned too much when I dared to blink.

"Look," Snow said.

Then mother's voice pressed out an "Oh."

I forced my eyes to open for just a moment to take in the sight of snares filled with two rabbits and what looked like some hares. I closed them before I could make out more.Good for you, I thought sarcastically,thanks, Magnus.

I tried to find comfort in the knowledge that Derrick and Magnus were bringing us food, probably checking my snares, but I couldn't. I was too hurt.

It's impossible to say how many days I stayed in bed. I could have asked Mother or Snow, but I didn't. And I probably would have stayed even longer if Mother had not put her foot down.

"You need to get up, Rose."

“I don’t want to,” I replied like a petulant child, my voice muffled against the blanket. I didn’t even lift my head. What did it matter if the sun was shining or the thaw was coming? The woods could bloom themselves into a paradise, and still my chest would ache the same.

Mother’s spoon clattered softly into the pot. For a long moment, she didn’t answer, and the silence pressed heavier than her scolding ever could.

“Rose.” Her voice was weary, thinner than usual. I finally glanced over. She sat by the fire with one hand pressed to her temple; the lines in her face were drawn deeper than Iremembered. She looked smaller somehow, though she tried to hold herself straight. “The willow bark is nearly gone. My head… I can’t keep the pain away without it. You know what that means.”

Snow’s needle stilled. Her pale eyes darted to me, then to Mother. “The streambeds,” she said quietly. “That’s where the bark loosens first in spring.”

Mother nodded, the motion tight, as if it pained her. “Yes. And I can’t fetch it. My knees won’t take me so far. It must be you two.”

Guilt twisted hot in my stomach. She needed me, truly needed me, and here I was sulking in bed like a spoiled child. I sat up slowly, the blanket falling from my shoulders. “You should have said so sooner.”

“I tried to hold out for as long as I could," Mother replied, and the words were softened with love, not anger.

Snow was already gathering her cloak. “We’ll go together,” she said firmly. “Rose, come on.”

I dragged in a breath and swung my feet to the floor. My body felt heavier than it should have, but my heart beat a little faster, stubbornly alive. I thought of Magnus—Derrick—and forced the ache back down. For now, this wasn’t about me.

“All right.” I pushed to my feet. “Let’s fetch your herbs, Mother. We’ll bring back more than you will need for a year.”

Mother’s smile was faint but real. “My brave girls.”

Snow beamed at me, and though my chest still hurt, I found myself smiling back.

Snow walked quietly beside me as we left the cottage, our boots crunching through the crust of snow that still clung stubbornly to the earth. The air smelled different now: wet bark, thawing moss, and the faint promise of spring. But even with the forest alive around us, I felt her eyes on me more than the breeze or the birds.

I didn’t look at her. Not yet. My throat was still thick with all the things I hadn’t said. It took several minutes, several long breaths, before I finally whispered, “He’s not just a bear, you know.”