Chapter 17 A Full Belly
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
"Wake up," he says, his gruff voice close to the cold of this merciless winter, but there's something uplifting it. Cautious hope? Or perhaps he's not given himself to hope just yet. He rubs my arm, his calloused hand brushing my oxen coat. I force my eyes open, seeing his icy blue ones in the grey daylight.
His eyes crinkle with a smirk, drawing my gaze down to his mouth as he speaks. "Yer persistence may 've paid off. The winter's calm for now. Eat. Drink. Then we move." He lets go of me and pushes something into my hands. I look down at the wrapped piece of burlap and the skin in my hands. I set the skin aside and unfold the burlap. Inside is goat meat that has been cut into fine slivers. Tenderness fills my heart. He cut the goat meat for me to make it easier to swallow. He must have seen the small morsels of cheese I had eaten and so cut the meat down to the same size. I lift my eyes to Eric, meeting his expectant gaze.
"Thank you," I say, though only silence leaves me.
He glances down at my mouth and nods. "Yer welcome." He lifts his eyes to mine. Whether intentional or not, he ensnares me in his eyes. My heart flutters and speeds up.
He rises to his feet like a bear rearing up. "Take some of that lamia balm when yer done eatin'. It's in yer satchel." He smiles while his eyes drop to my mouth again, his gaze lingering this time. He stirs that small, sinful heat in my loins. "I miss yer voice." He turns too quickly to see my eyes widening and treads to the mouth of this cave. He...misses my voice? It can't be—no, he was frustrated two nights ago when he realized that I had lost my voice...but I cannot forget the playful tap of his knuckles against my leg the night we all sang the first snowdrop. Ye've quite the voice, he said.
Wood clacks together. My eyes go to Eric. He drops my skis onto the snowy white world that's just outside the rocky floor of this cave.
I force myself to eat while I look about the cave. This is barely a cave. It's not much bigger than the broken down cabin we stayed in the night before. No cold, inky black depths. No howling wind winding through narrow passageways. The daylight reaches the very back where I am sitting now. It's day twelve.
I finish as much goat meat as I can, though I leave leftovers. My throat hurts too much to eat more! I drink some icy water from Eric's skin and save the rest for the day ahead. It takes precious time to melt snow for water, a task far better suited for the night when we already have a fire blazing. I wrap up my leftovers and store those and the spare water in my satchel. Though my throat is feeling worse after eating and drinking, my belly is full. I...I haven't had a full belly for fourteen years.
Eric finishes gathering up our supplies near the cave mouth and turns to me. "Ye done?" he asks me.
"Almost," I say—silently. Frustration builds in my chest. Oh, that's right. I am mute as a lamb before the shearer. I hold up my second finger, asking him to wait, and push myself to my feet. I search for the box of lamia balm in my satchel as I start towards him. I find the little box, open the lid, and scoop the tiniest amount onto my fingertip. Eliza said to apply this to my wound every other day, so I should be fine for today, but tomorrow morning I'll need to apply some more to my wound. I close the box, store it safely in my satchel, and stop before Eric. I find myself caught in his eyes again. They're icy blue, but against the grey daylight and the muted browns and blacks of our clothes and packs, his eyes are the most vibrant thing in this world. They are the color of the sky that I have not seen for the last fourteen years.
His eyes drop to my fingertip still covered with the lamia balm. He grabs my wrist and pushes my finger to my mouth! I hear the breathy rush of my laughter, but no more. My cheeks grow warm. I lick the lamia balm off my fingertip with a discreet dart of my tongue. He chuckles. I grimace from the bitter, oily taste of the balm and gulp it down. His chuckling mounts to laughter.
"There," he says with a lessening grin and dying laughter. He lets go of my wrist, but he does not turn from me yet. His grin shrinks more until it stops, leaving just enough of a smile behind. My heart softens for him, remembering how much he has sacrificed for me already. I remember my vow. As soon as I can speak, the first two words I will utter to him will be thank you—only thanks for carrying me to Hymark and nothing less.
He clears his throat and gestures to the snowy world outside. "Com'on, we need to get movin'. We'll go check and see if the supplies I left in the snow are no' completely buried."
With that said, Eric slings all our packs onto his back while I strap on my skis. He straps his skis on, too, and pushes off with his long pole. I follow after him, pushing off with my long pole. Not even a moment later, we reach the tree that we had left our supplies at. Eric slows down, but he doesn't stop. I slow down, too, scanning the snow about the whole tree, not a single pack in sight. My heart sinks.
"Damn," Eric says. He glances back at me, a gentle look on his face. "Dinnae worry, we still have enough supplies to last us a few days. We'll hunt and forage for everythin' else that we need."
I raise my brows at him and look about the winter wasteland. How!? There's no life to hunt! Let alone any plant life to forage!
Eric chuckles, drawing my eyes to the back of his head. "I'm a huntsman, remember? I know where to look."
I frown at his back...but what good will worry do me now? I chose to trust him. I promised him that I'm done with the wavering. I just wish I could see what he sees. It'd be far easier to trust him then.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
It's another hard day on our skis. My sore muscles plead for rest the whole day, though this winter is unusually gracious today. She does not whip up a single snowflake nor any ferocious wind. She is bitterly cold as usual and slips her frigid fingers between the threads of my clothes to torture me. Despite the cold, there is too much fortune today to complain. And how could I complain with no voice?
Eric and I weave through the loose trees of these woods at a relaxed yet quick pace. I'm not hindering him nor slowing our progress to Hammond's anymore. Silly pride swells my heart. When this is all said and done, I might be an expert skiman. Or skisman seeing as one uses two skis? Or is it a skier? Oh, it hardly matters! What matters is that we are traveling quicker than if we were to be traveling by horse or on foot!
With Eric leading the way, I know that I am safe. God, I pray our horses are alright. I wonder what Eric did with them? Or where he sent them off to?
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
The grey clouds forever hiding the sky start to darken. As night encroaches, we come upon the side of a cliff breaking the white landscape. Eric slows to a stop beside the cliff. He has no need to say so. I slow down to a stop beside him and look up at the top of the cliff. It does well enough to provide us shelter from one side for the night. The snow seems thin enough at the top, too, so there's not much worry of the snow falling on us and burying us alive.
Something drops on the ground with thud! I startle and wheel around. Eric has dropped our packs on the snow. He looks up at me and smirks.
"Sorry. I dinnae mean to startle ye." He stoops low and frees his feet from the strappings of his skis. "Take off yer skis and help me gather wood for the fire."
I nod and crouch low. I pull at the leather strappings until my feet are freed from my skis. I sigh with relief. Though I am starting to enjoy skiing, I still feel as though I am trapped to my skis. I turn to face Eric, my eyes crossing his still smirking expression. His eyes dart down to my feet and steadily work their way back up to my face. I can't help the shiver that goes down my spine when his eyes pass over my hips and the pathetically slight swell of my breasts.
"Ye can help me carry the wood I cut. Follow me." He gestures for me to follow him, so I turn and trudge through the snow after him. His heavy steps sink deeper into the snow than mine, so I avoid following in his footsteps. I glance back. My stomach churns at the sight of our footprints left behind in the snow. Surely enough snow has fallen that our tracks from Jerome and Annabelle's farm to here are gone forever. I pray.
I follow Eric to the base of a tree where he stops and draws his hatchet from somewhere beneath his coat. He swings his hatchet at the tree, chopping away at the long branches. He chops one branch free from the tree, then a second branch, and a third. He tosses the three branches that he had cut onto the snow, the branches clacking against each other. I glance about nervously. If any creature or man is nearby, surely he hears this.
I draw in a deep, frigid breath and reach up to Eric. I tap his shoulder. He stops chopping at my first tap and looks back at me, his face stern. "Ye shouldnae touch a lad when he's choppin' wood."
I frown at him and bring both my hands to my belly to wring them in a silly attempt to unknot my stomach. "Is. It. Safe. Here?" I mouth slowly and point down at the snow laden earth.
His stern gaze softens as he looks between my mouth and my eyes. He sighs aloud. "Gods, I really miss yer voice. Is it safe here, ye asked?" He looks up at my eyes, waiting for my silent answer.
My heart stings. So, he does only miss my voice because it is a means of communication. No more. Despite the stinging, I nod.
He frowns. "It's as safe as it can get. The winter's calm now, but she could turn at any moment."
This cruel winter is just one of many worries. The fear of suffering a grotesque, painful murder before I have the chance to fulfill my promise to Greta grows and looms over me like a demon seeking my soul. "Finn?" I ask him, still voiceless.
His eyes drop down to my mouth. "Say that again."
Frustration prickles under my skin. I repeat slowly, "Finn?"
"Ah," Eric sneers and lifts his gaze to me. "Please dinnae worry about him! We're makin' good progress, but to keep doin' so, ye need to rest. Ye worryin' about that son of a bitch isnae gonna help ye." He looks back to the tree and resumes chopping more branches from it. He breaks off more branches, each chop and loud snap jolting me. Despite him pleading with me to not worry, I cannot ignore the fact that the safety we enjoy now can change at any moment. What if Finn and Ravenna found someone as skilled as Eric? What if Eric is wrong and Finn is only moments away? What if this winter decides to lash out now? Where will we go? We would have died last night if Eric had not found that cave! There are not little caves and abandoned cabins everywhere! God, would it have been better if we had stayed another night in that cave?
Eric tosses more chopped branches onto the pile, steadily growing it to a bundle that will soon be too large for me to carry it all back. So, I fill my arms with all the chopped branches I can bear and start shuffling back towards camp in this ever growing darkness. My stomach churns at the thought of me shuffling forward alone in this darkness.
"WRONG WAY!" Eric's warning rings through the frigid dusk. I stop and spin back to face him. He is a shadow against the canvas of dim white snow and the harsh line of darkness pushing against it. He sheathes his hatchet somewhere within his silhouette, scoops up the rest of the cut branches, and trudges through the snow to me. Despite his feet sinking into the snow, he still looms over me like a bear on his hind legs.
"This way," he says, turning his back to me and trudging through the snow in the opposite direction. My cheeks burn despite the frigid air, but I shuffle through the snow as quickly as I can, the snow crunching beneath my boots. God, if Eric was not here, I would have gone the wrong way—gone to only God knows where.
I draw in a deep, shaky, chilled breath. My body shivers both from the cold and my fear. You don't see it now, but there is a reason you survived fourteen years of imprisonment. There is a reason you escaped! Please, do not forget what happened in Hymark...all the lives lost. If this continues, soon there will be no one left.
Annihilation of an entire people. Men, women, children...babes. Innocent babes too young to sin. Innocent babes like Guinevere! Guilt wrings my heart and twists my knotted stomach to near nausea. Again, if Eric was not here now, I would have continued the wrong way until death caught me.
We reach the shadow of the small cliff that provides scant shelter for us. He did admit that this winter can turn at any moment. Should she decide to do so in the wrong direction, we will be exposed.
Despite this knowledge, Eric drops his branches onto the snow and I toss mine onto his. We both drop to our knees and arrange some of the wood appropriately while setting the excess aside as spare tinder to sustain us through the night. Eric starts a fire going with his knife and his flint. The fire quickly grows and provides us with a small bubble of golden light and warmth to push back against the darkness.
"Here," he says. I turn my face to him. He grabs some of the spare branches and layers them on the snow beside me.
My brows furrow. What is he doing? I reach out and tap his hand, drawing his eyes to me. I give him a questioning look.
He nods with understanding. "The snow steals warmth from the body. If ye sit on somethin' to keep ye off the snow, like a layer of branches," he lays down the last branch and pats the small patch of branches covering the snow, "it'll help ye stay dry and warm. Sit here." He taps the stick patch beside me, clacking some of the branches together.
I frown at him. I highly doubt that will be comfortable, sitting on a bunch of sharp, pointy sticks. Despite the thought, I scoot over and sit on the patch. Surprisingly, no sticks poke my bottom. It's rather...smooth.
"How does it feel?" Eric asks.
Gratitude fills my guilt-ridden heart. I draw my knees to my chest and tuck my arms between my thighs and stomach for warmth. "Good," I mouth silently. "Thank you."
He offers me a small, satisfied smile. "Yer welcome."
The light hearted air quickly leaves. I look back to the flames dancing with each other on the charring branches. Fire is beautiful, but only when it is contained and does not burn anyone. Hell is full of fire. Just the small burn I sustained to my arm when I tried to burn Sara's skinless, frozen body was so painful. It was the worst pain I have ever felt. God, and that was only my arm! What it must be like to be burned at the stake! That is the proper punishment for someone who flees and lets an entire people be slaughtered—"Ye alright?" Eric asks.
My eyes bounce up to him, wanting so dearly to look anywhere but at the man whose wife I—no, Snow, don't think it! I barely manage to nod, all my muscles so frozen, so numb, so stiff. His foreign, icy eyes burn into me as much as the fire that had ravaged my arm two years ago.
"Ye sure?" he asks me, his voice so soft I barely hear him over the crackling flames. Po-pop of the fire, and they resume crackling. That pop is enough to pull my eyes back to the fire.
I force another stiff nod. I feel Eric's gaze on me, so much so that it feels like he is crushing my body beneath his. What is he thinking!? Fear shoots down my spine, making me stiffen and straighten my back. Does he suspect me of my lies? Or of my hidden truths!?
Eric drops his hand on my knee! My eyes snap to him. He only smiles at me and shakes my knee in a friendly manner.
"Com'on, cheer up!" He stops shaking my knee and squeezes it. "I wanna see ye smile again!" His smile softens with...something. "I miss that, too."
My eyes widen. He takes his hand from my knee and rests his arms on his knees, his eyes and his soft smile failing to leave me and him. I blink my eyes a few times. Did he just say that? Surely, my starved, gaunt face, my chapped lips—it all must be a hideous sight. I shake my head at him. He's just trying to make me feel better.
The corners of his smile twitch. "Why are ye shakin' yer head!? I mean what I say!" His eyes drop down to my lips. "Ye have a beautiful smile."
My heart flutters so much that it struggles to beat. A bunch of moths skitter about in my stomach desperate to escape. He lifts his eyes to mine, his rough, strong features softened just enough by something I cannot discern. Whatever it is, it excites my heart. Could—no, it couldn't be. He would never see me that way. I am only his charge. No more...yet there he sits still smiling at me. He sits close enough beside me that I feel the warmth coming from his body. I'm not sure how that's possible with the modest space between us.
How dearly I want to believe him, but to do so would be foolish. How can a woman who has been starved for the last fourteen years and who has acquired as many scars as I have smile beautifully? I appreciate his attempt to cheer me up, though I cannot believe he is being honest with me now. I give him a small smile as a silent way to thank him, but I still shake my head.
His eyes bug out of his head. "Why are ye still shakin' yer head!? I huvnae lied to ye once—" He stops himself when he sees the look on my face. He groans and shakes his head. "That disnae count."
I cock my head and mouth slowly for him, "Yes, it does!"
His eyes dart down and up, down and up, between my mouth and my eyes. I can't help the silent laughter that breaks my heavy, tired face.
He looks down at my mouth again, his smile growing. "It disnae," he lifts his eyes to me, "because thin's were very different when I found ye in that damn forest! Ye were fleein', I was huntin' ye, we didnae know each other like we do now, then thin's changed. I saved yer life, then ye saved my sorry arse, then ye got Sara's ring back and kept yer promise to her for two years!—" I grab his arm with both hands. "Eric!" I mouth his name to stop his ramblings. I can't stop my breathy laughter. I've never seen him like this, so hyper, rambling, scrabbling to win this debate...though the subtle gleam in his eyes and the smug smile—he won this, and he knows it. My laughter ebbs and my smile shrinks, but it does not desert me.
His expression softens as his smugness disappears. He places his hand over one of mine, securing my hand between his arm and his hand. His eyes do not ensnare me this time, but rather they invite me in. My knotted stomach starts to unravel. All my tense muscles start to slacken. Despite all that I should be worried about...I cannot think of it all now. Eric...he has somehow taken that away. With him, I am safe. I can rest and know that no harm will come to me. That's all that matters now.
"I mean what I say," he says, breaking the silence that came over us, but his words only strengthen the safety I feel—no, this is more than safety. It's...God, it's something I have never felt before. What is it!? It feels—"I love it when ye smile. It's a beautiful sight." His eyes drop down to my mouth and linger. His smile lessens until it completely leaves him. A weight comes over my heart, stealing the last of my smile.
"It's rare when ye do," he says so softly that I barely hear him over the crackling fire. He lifts his eyes to me, looking so heavy. From exhaustion or disappointment, I cannot tell. Perhaps it's both.
Anger wells in my chest. Damn me! Just like Ravenna, I drain the life out of everyone and everything about me until it is naught but ash! Sure, Eric has not turned into a pile of ash on the snow—brief horror churns my stomach. God forbid that—but I have drained his joy, his spirit, out of him just as I took that poor dwarf's sight! If only I had my voice! I would tell him how sorry I am for having stolen his smile and his spirit. I would thank him for all he has given me and sacrificed for me. God only knows what he would say in response. God only knows how I would respond.
He sighs above me. "Ye should eat." He takes his hand from mine. "Take some of that balm, too. Then try to sleep."
To my growing disappointment, he pulls his arm from my hands and drags his rucksack to him to rummage through it. I grab the leftover goat meat out of my satchel and force myself to eat every last bit of the frost burned food. It's not the most pleasing to my tongue, but my hollow stomach is not as discriminate as my palate.
After I finish eating and drinking in depressing silence with Eric, I scoop out a tiny amount of lamia balm onto my fingertip, lick it and swallow it. I grimace from its bitter taste. God, I wonder if this balm is even helping me!—How can I think so bitterly of Eliza? Surely, this balm is helping me. I cannot expect to heal completely in one night. I need to give it time.
My hand goes to my neck, feeling for—no. Eric has Sara's ring now. Her ring is where it belongs. You fulfilled your promise to her. You should not be missing her ring! It was never yours! So stop yearning for it.
I sigh and drop my hand in my lap. I stare into the flames, watching them writhe as they crackle and pop on the charring wood.
"It's chilly," Eric says, shattering the depressing silence. My eyes go to him all too easily. He swallows and glances down at the fire, looking sheepish. My brows furrow. God, I can feel his nerves buzzing from here. He lifts his eyes to me and gives me a small, hesitant smile. He holds out his arm to me, but he does not touch me. "May I?" he asks.
My eyes start widening, but I catch myself. He wants to hold me. My stomach flips. My heart pounds harder. That sinful warmth blooms between my thighs. He merely wants to hold me for more warmth tonight...right? Him saying he misses my voice and my smile...surely he just misses the easier communication and he was only trying to cheer me up.
His smile starts to fall. You damn fool, Snow! Here is your chance to feel his warmth tonight! I stretch my arms to him and force a smile for him, nodding. His smile returns and he scoots closer to me, lifting the side of his coat and draping it over my shoulders. I hug his waist as tight as I dare to while he wraps his arm around me and pulls me to his side. I rest my cheek against his ribs. Soon, his warmth touches my numb cheek, making my cheek tingle. I turn my eyes to the fire again as his warmth envelopes me. The flames writhe and dance with each other until the surrounding darkness closes in.