Page 89 of Warrior of the Wild
As the day grows later, we decide to stop and figure out how we’re going to best survive the night.
“Climbing up a tree won’t help us this time,” Soren says. “Cats clearly love heights.”
Eventually, we find a section of the mountain so steep, it’s practically a wall, and it serves as an excellent cover for our backs.
“This will work great,” I say.
Soren and I get to work on building a fort similar to the one I first built in the wild. We use our axes to cut and shape tree branches. We prop them against the rock wall, leaving a small hollow underneath. It takes only an hour to get everything just right, piling on the branches so thickly that very little light can get in. It will certainly keep any animals from spotting us. A thick strip offallen bark serves as a makeshift door. Bless the wild for all the sturdy wood.
I cover the rough ground inside our shelter with as many leaves as I can find, using only the ones from trees I recognize to be safe. Some leaves in the wild sting to the touch. Others give off an aroma that attracts bugs. And some release their pigment and stain the skin. Since none of that is ideal, I stick to what I know.
Even after that, the ground is still so very hard.
“Maybe we should lie atop the blankets,” I suggest.
“The night will grow too cold.” Soren pauses. “We could share. Put one blanket below both of us and the other on top.”
“All right.”
We eat a dinner of dried meat and berries outside before turning in for the night. Our lean-to is cozy. There’s barely enough room for us to lie side by side. It’s so much more practical for us to share the blankets than for us to each have our own.
We squish our packs and axes down by our feet, and then Soren pulls the top blanket over the two of us. I’m scooted over just far enough that there’s a small gap between Soren’s body and mine.
Even then, I’m far too aware of his body. His hand is only an inch from mine. He smells of pine and freshly churned dirt, which I wouldn’t have thought would be intoxicating, but it is. I sense the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, hear him shift as he tries to get more comfortable.
Despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and Soren’s presence, I drift off eventually, but sometime in the night, I wake, shivering. The elevation has brought with it a distinct chill.
But at my side, I can feel a wave of heat radiating off Soren. He’s like a fire. How is that even possible?
I try not to wake him as I scoot over, pressing my front to his back. Heat curls into my arms, and I sigh at the warmth.
But I think I woke Soren.
A slight hitch in his deep breaths is the only outward sign.
He doesn’t say anything, so I ask, “Is this okay? Sorry to wake you, I’m just so cold.”
He rolls toward me, and I back up against that rock wall, giving him room to move.
“Come here,” he says when he’s facing toward me. I’m unsure at first, but the promise of warmth is too much to resist.
“Turn around,” he says, and I realize why as soon as I do. We fit so snugly with my back pressed to his front. His legs curve against mine. One of his arms rests under my head, giving me a pillow, while the other wraps around my front to press me even closer to him.
“Better?” he asks.
“Mmm,” I say. I’m already starting to drift off, I’m so comfortable.
There’s the lightest pressure on the back of my neck. His lips, I think. But I’m already so far gone, I can’t be sure.
AN OBNOXIOUS LIGHT DARTSacross my eyelids. I open them only to be momentarily blinded. A small gap in the branches allows a beam of sun right into my face. I adjust my neck, trying to get my head at a better angle, when I realize what’s in front of me.
Soren.
I must have rolled over in the night. His face is inches from mine, our breath mingling. His lashes are draped over his eyes, his face completely relaxed in sleep.
I realize just how much I like that face, once I’m free to look at it so openly. The scars from warrior training suit him, giving him a roguish look. He has a heavy brow, a smooth forehead with brown locks falling across it, a nose that might be a bit too small for his face, but it’s hardly noticeable with such perfect-looking lips.
I’m struck with the desire to trace them with a finger, which surprises me. Must be because it’s morning—a sleep-addled brain clouds judgment.
