Page 67 of Warrior of the Wild
Soren actually takes a step back at those words. “I’ve been offering to teach you to swim for the last year.”
“And I’ve been telling you for the last year that I don’t need your help. I don’t want anything from you.”
Tension ripples between the two boys. I’m not sure if I should step in or stay out of it.
Soren is the first to look away. “I’ll come with you. Keep watch from the side.”
“We don’t need your protection,” Iric insists.
I ignore him. “We’d be grateful to have the extra pair of eyes watching our backs.”
Iric turns his disgusted look on me, but I don’t back down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I tell him.
I understand Iric’s frustration. It’s hard to allow others to see you at your weakest. I had to experience this firsthand while the boys were taking care of me. But I also know that true strength comes from being willing to fail in order to progress. That—if nothing else—is what I have learned from my mattugr.
Iric’s whole body tenses up, and I wonder if he will change his mind about the entire venture.
He surprises me by continuing toward the pools. I hurry to his side, and Soren drops back behind us.
“Hope you brought an extra shirt,” Iric grumbles out of the side of his mouth so Soren can’t hear. “You’ll want to double up, else Soren will lose his eyes as they bug from their sockets.”
He’s baiting me, angry that I’m letting Soren tag along. It’s not going to work.
“I’ve an extra shirt in my pack,” I say.
“Oh, excellent. And I’ll be doubling up on pants.” He smirks.
I snort. “I sawnothingthat day you fell into the lake.”
He blusters for a moment. “A man is not at his best when submerged in cold water,” he says defensively.
“If you say so.”
“I do!”
“What are you talking about?” Soren asks from behind us.
“Nothing,” Iric says. He has his arms crossed angrily in front of his chest, while I try to hide a smile.
A twenty-minute walk from the tree house brings us to the pools. They’re a series of freshwater springs. Time has eroded the rocks, and some of the pools are several dozens of feet wide and reach depths well over our heads. Each pool runs into the one next to it. Little streams trickle off to the sides.
Another perk to living with the boys for the last couple of weeks has been discovering the pools they use for bathing. (They’re much preferable to the stream that runs by my shelter; I’m certain it’s ice-cold runoff from the mountain.) The pools are clear with very little plant growth. One can see straight to therock-covered bottom of each one. Most importantly, they’re safe. Nothing deadly lives in them. Each pool is too small.
I lead Iric to one of the moderately deep pools. It’ll come up to about my chest. Deep enough to swim, but shallow enough to touch.
We shed our boots and armor and then lay our axes down to the side of the pool where they can’t get wet.
I enter the pool first, the cool water sending goose bumps prickling along my arms. Soren lowers himself to the ground and sits on crossed legs. He’s not at the edge of our pool. Rather, he’s distanced himself from us by a good forty feet, between us and the foliage of the wild. He pulls out a whetstone and takes it to his ax, his back to the thick expanse of trees.
I shout, “Won’t you be more effective keeping watch if you turn around?”
He ignores me, keeping himself pointed toward Iric and me, and I wonder what exactly it is that he came here to see.
“I was right,” Iric says as he steps into the pool with me. “I’m always right. Sometimes I hate being right.”
“What are you muttering about?”
