Page 25

Beth

W hen I told myself I couldn’t let embarrassment keep me inside the tent any longer, I slunk out.

Carol, Pete, Mary, and Joel were whispering near the entrance to the cooking gazebo and when they saw me, their eyes widened and they scurried away from each other, two racing toward the river, the other two toward the bathroom hut.

What was that all about?

Shrugging, I entered the gazebo. It was getting close to lunchtime, and I could make…something. I wasn’t sure what, but I’d figure it out.

Ruugar joined me inside not long later. He shot me a panicked look, and my heart sank.

Before he could speak, voices made us both turn.

All four of our guests stepped into the gazebo, their eyes shooting from Ruugar to me. A strange energy crackled between them, like they were waiting for something amazing to happen. Was there an event about to take place, and I just hadn’t heard about it yet?

They sat at the table and stared at me. Their interest made my stomach knot. Why were they looking at me that way? Oh. Maybe they were hungry. Thirsty. I was the helper who wasn’t doing much to help them right now.

Ruugar slanted the group a long, penetrating glance, and something flickered in his expression. Annoyance, maybe, or hesitation. His ears darkened before he turned back to me, stuffing an object into his pocket as if he'd been caught doing something he didn’t want anyone to see.

“We’re making brimberg tips,” he announced, his shoulders tense. “With salads and potatoes. The fixings too.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Pete said brightly.

Mary grinned and rubbed her belly. “Sure does. I can’t wait.”

“Brimberg?” Joel leaned forward, interest lighting his face. “Is that another orc meat?”

Ruugar nodded. “It's similar to steak. It comes from the southern caverns, raised by raevik herders. The meat’s richer, more tender than human beef.”

Mary clapped her hands, her eyes twinkling. “Sounds heavenly. I can’t wait. Fresh air and being in the outdoors sure awakens the appetite, don't you agree, Ben? Appetite for almost anything.”

Um, sure? I realized frowning probably wasn't the right answer and smoothed my face and pressed for a smile. “It does. I'm starved.”

Ruugar's jaw dropped. “Truly?” he gulped out.

“Y—yes. I mean, not, like, not exactly starved , though I'm hungry.”

“You need food, and you need it now!” He bolted to the fridge and pulled out slabs of something with a pink tinge, laying it on the counter beside a loaf of bread he said his brother, Sel, had made in his new bakery.

Nothing beat fresh bread. I'd had two thick slabs with butter for breakfast this morning.

Ruugar, of course, covered his with ketchup and mustard.

Ruugar sliced a bunch of bread and some slabs off the pink block and held a chunk and what I hoped was cheese out to me. “Eat this now. I cannot have you starving.”

Carol sighed sweetly, and a glance her way showed her staring at Ruugar as if he was the hero from her favorite movie. If it wasn't clear she was into Pete, I'd be worried.

I thanked him and took the bread, staring down at it long enough he nudged it from below, pretty much urging me to take a bite, which I did.

It was cheese, and it was amazingly creamy.

Like a combination of cheddar and brie. I could eat this every day for the rest of my life, but we were talking cheese here, the food of the gods.

“Thank you,” I said around a bite, mostly because he was watching me with so much concern on his face, I wanted to ease whatever was bothering him.

Oh, starving . Had he taken me seriously ?

It was sweet that he was worried that I could truly be famished. I was sure he'd do the same thing for anyone, though.

“I love any steak.” Pete chuckled. “Long as it’s cooked right. You know the secret to a good steak’s in the sear.”

Carol nodded, beaming. “I’ve never had orc dishes before this trip, but I may never go back to eating regular food.”

Ruugar gave her a twitch of a smile and grunted, which they seemed to take as agreement.

“I can handle the salads,” I said, needing to contribute something. Anything.

Another grunt, his version of permission.

As I gathered ingredients, Ruugar busied himself with the meat. But he kept sending me strange, panicked looks, like he was trying to figure out how to say something and couldn’t quite get the words out.

Unease clawed its way up my spine. This was it. After I'd made him rescue me in the woods and endanger himself with the chumble, he regretted letting me join this group. He was going to send me back.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and feigned casualness as I turned to the tourists. “Anyone want something to drink?”

Mary smiled. “Iced tea, if there’s some.”

Joel went with iced coffee, Pete asked for water, and Carol requested juice.

I set everything down in front of them, barely holding onto my shaky composure.

“You, um…” Mary's face pinkened, and she shot a gl ance Ruugar's way. His back faced us, and he was studiously cutting chunks off the enormous slab of meat. “Ruugar's such a sweet guy, isn't he?”

“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure where she was going with this.

“You should?—”

“Mary,” Joel chided. “Let these youngins figure this out on their own.”

“Oh, I will, Joel. I'm just trying to help them along.”

Figure this out? Help them along? Were they actually playing matchmaker between Ruugar and me?

I'd cry from the kindness of it except I was afraid if I started crying, I’d be doing it because of anything but them being sweet.

Pete stood suddenly and moved to Ruugar’s side, speaking to him in a low whisper.

He kept shooting me odd looks. Whatever he said made Ruugar’s entire frame stiffen.

Pete clapped him on the shoulder and returned to the table, where the others immediately leaned in, sharing hushed whispers among themselves.

More secrecy. More distance. Whatever this was, I wasn’t part of it, and that made my sad mood even bleaker.

I turned back to my task, focusing on slicing the carrots, but my hand holding the knife trembled.

I gripped the handle tighter, like it would keep me from dissolving into the background where I clearly belonged.

But the blade wavered on the wood, the tip skittering over the surface as if even it refused to follow my lead.

I wasn’t part of this. Maybe I never had been. I didn't fit in anywhere . I had hoped, after how kind Ruugar was while bandaging my wound, that maybe he didn’t regret helping me. That hope was gone.

Ruugar still wasn’t looking at me. His hands worked mindlessly, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing himself for something. What, though?

Every few minutes, he sent me a long look, and I girded myself for whatever might be coming. If he told me he was taking me back, I’d be strong. I’d force a smile and thank him for the help he’d given me. Try not to cry while he galloped his sorhox all the way back to town where he’d leave me.

I cut a cucumber into thin slices, my hands steady enough, even though my heart wasn’t.

“You keep looking at me like you’ve got bad news,” I finally blurted out, though I kept my voice soft. No need to include our guests in what might be an embarrassing conversation. “If you need to tell me that you’re taking me back to Lonesome Creek, just say it.”

His head whipped in my direction, his brows lowering.

Heat climbed my throat. “I get it.” I shrugged even though it felt like my ribs would crack in half from the gesture. “If you can’t take the time, but you still want to bring me to town, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

He made a low sound deep in his chest but didn’t actually deny it.

The celery splintered between my fingers, a perfect match for the way I felt.

The pieces tumbled across the cutting board, forgotten.

I willed my eyes to stay dry. It was stupid to think he’d seen me as anything worthwhile, even for a second.

I was a problem he had to work around, not something welcome.

More whispering erupted from those behind us. Isolation settled deeper in my chest.

Ruugar cleared his throat, his shoulders tensing as he reached into his pocket. “It’s not that. Not at all.”

Truly? My heart perked up a little.

The tourists went silent. I swore I heard Mary gasp, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I focused on Ruugar as he slowly pulled something free.

A rock about the size of my palm.

He held it out toward me with great care, cradling the smooth stone like it was something precious.

I blinked. “Uh…”

“It is a good size,” Ruugar said gruffly, his voice deeper than usual. “Weighted well. Smooth edges. It won’t catch on the hand when thrown.”

Thrown?

I hesitated, my fingers itching to take it yet frozen in place.

Was this some kind of test or a symbolic offering?

Here's a rock. You won't need me to protect you any longer. The silence around us stretched, and my pulse fluttered in my throat like it didn’t know whether to speed up or stop altogether.

But the way he held it toward me and the uncertain expression on his face made it impossible to refuse.

I took it from his outstretched fingers, his warmth still lingering on the surface.

Behind us, Carol whispered to Pete. “That’s a nice one. He put thought into it. You can tell.”

Knowing smiles passed among them. I caught the looks they shared out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t completely tear my gaze from Ruugar. He remained still, watching me with a mix of hope and anticipation.

I wasn't sure what to do with the rock, but I wanted to do something with it that would please him.

Joel cleared his throat and lifted his voice. “Go on then, Ben. Give it a try.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“It's a weapon,” Ruugar said. “A good one. Weighted well for your size.”

“And you want me to throw it?”

Ruugar nodded.

Feeling vaguely ridiculous but also strangely moved, I left the cooking gazebo with everyone else trailing behind and stepped toward the firepit. I set my stance, inhaled, and with a swift motion, tossed the rock toward the fire ring.

A sharp thunk echoed through the clearing as my throw hit true, smacking one of the biggest stones.

Everyone clapped. Alright, so it had been a direct hit.

I turned back, only to find Ruugar closer than expected. Almost too close. He nodded once, and his eyes shone with approval.

My stomach flipped over.

Before I could say anything, he moved past me and bent, plucking the stone from where it had fallen. Returning to me, he carefully placed it back in my hand, as if entrusting me with something that mattered.

“Thank you. It's lovely.” I curled my fingers around it. It was only a rock. A smooth river stone. So why did my throat feel as if it had closed off?

It shouldn’t have mattered or stirred anything inside me beyond mild appreciation.

But my pulse tripped over itself, thrown off-balance by the strange tightness in my throat.

As we returned to the cooking gazebo, I held the stone against my chest, locking it in place like it might slip away if I let go, and forced myself to breathe.

Lunch was a blur after that. The tourists raved about the food, talking among themselves, but my mind remained stuck on the stone I'd carefully placed with my things inside the tent.

When we finished eating, the others trickled toward the fire, settling back into their chairs and their relaxed conversations. Pete poured himself a sniffer of his favorite whiskey, placing the bottle on the ground near his chair.

I busied myself with the dishes, grateful for something to do, for a way to keep my mind distracted.

But Ruugar wasn’t done with whatever this odd ritual was.

As I hung the dish cloth over the faucet, all done with cleaning up, he cleared his throat behind me. The hairs on my arms lifted before I turned to look his way.

His gaze met mine, searching for I didn't know what, before it dropped away and his ears darkened. He raked his tusks across his upper lip before he lifted something with that same reverence as before.

A stick.

Well, not any old stick. Longer and thinner than a twig, about an inch thick, it had a sharp, carefully whittled point. He'd removed all the bark and smoothed any rough spots.

Ruugar held it out. “I made this for you.”

Not any old object, but something shaped by his hands, whittled and formed with deliberate effort. For me .

“A spear?”

He nodded fast.

I swallowed and took it from him carefully, like I wasn’t sure if I should be holding it.

Handmade. By him. For me. A warmth I didn’t understand spread through my chest, cradling a part of me I hadn’t realized was wounded.

I ran my fingers along the finely shaved wood, feeling every ridge. “Thank you. It’s really nice.”

Ruugar grunted. “It’s a fishing spear.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” I lifted it, puzzled, glancing between him and the carved point. “For fishing?”

“To hunt food.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he shifted his weight between his feet. “With this, you will not go hungry.”

My words got tangled between my ribs. I nodded to shake free whatever this feeling was. “Thank you.”

At the firepit, Mary let out a quiet squeal and Carol nudged her with an elbow. Pete lifted his glass in a toast. They were all watching again, their eyes darting between us like they were witnessing something big.

Pete, clearly trying to be helpful, chimed in. “That’s a very responsible gift. Thoughtful too.” He nodded sagely, sending Ruugar a grin.

I stared at the spear, my chest aching. Warmth spread through me, tugging at something deep inside I wasn't ready to examine.

“Thank you,” I said again, softer this time.

All the tension whooshed from Ruugar's body, and his face smoothed with relief.

I hesitated. “I’ve never fished before.”

Silence fell over the group sitting around the fire. Even the breeze through the trees seemed to hush, like the entire forest was absorbing my words in absolute horror.

Ruugar's body went rigid. His eyes widened, then narrowed in what appeared to be alarm.

Joel, sensing the sudden crisis, cut in quickly. “All the more reason to have a good spear. You can learn.” He nodded toward Ruugar.

“He's right,” Ruugar said, his voice gruffer than before. “I'll teach you.”

Heat fluttered in my belly.

I wanted that. Not only to learn, but to learn from him . To have his attention, his guidance, even if it was only because he felt responsible for me for some bizarre reason.

I tightened my hold on the spear, pushing down the foolish thrill bubbling up in my chest.

“I—” I cleared my throat. “I’d like that.”