Baring the Thorn (The Mountain Tribe #3)

Chapter 3

B y the next morning, my resolve is firm.

I don’t waste any time under the fur covers, feeling sorry for myself, pretending that maybe none of this is real.

Instead, I get up quickly, dressing in the chilly spring morning air that seeps under the bottoms of the tent walls like an icy fog.

I’m ready before Laura is even awake, her own pile of furs hardly moving given how deeply asleep she is. Our other tent mate, Cass, is always up first, so I seek her out, stepping out into the brisk camp and scanning for her with my gaze.

This early, she is the only one up, and Thorn, though he’s busied himself in a tent the tribe uses for supplies, doling out how much tea and broth to serve for the first meal.

I can see just the broad silhouette of him now in the dim early light, but quickly move my eyes off his back. I have more important things to do this morning than gaze at Thorn’s enormous shoulders while he reaches into the huge animal tarp bags that he uses for supplies.

The fire is lit in the center of camp, though the wood logs that burn are full and fresh, indicating that Thorn only lit it a few minutes ago.

Not much warm comes off it yet, but I’m almost too distracted to even notice the cold today.

I find Cassandra sitting in her usual spot in front of the fire, sharpening a small bone knife and chewing on one of the roots that the tribe uses to stave off hunger and keep their teeth clean.

She looks up when she spots me walking towards her.

“You’re up early,” she notes, her dark eyes scanning over me. “You look like shit.”

“I didn’t sleep long,” I ignore her comment, but I have the brief thought that if one more person tells me that I look tired, I’m going to start throwing things. I charge on and hope that she senses the urgency in me coming out to talk to her, “There’s a cache.”

“What?” Cass raises an eyebrow, and her eyes are still a little bleary from sleep. Maybe I could have explained this better. “Cash?”

“No, a cache, like, a cache of supplies. There’s one buried near the bunker.”

It’s the first time I’ve said the words aloud, and I realize belatedly that I’m shaking all over, like I’ve just confessed some horrible secret. In a way, I have.

Now that the truth is out, I’m obligated to do something about it.

When Cass stares at me in wide-eyed shock, I throw myself into an explanation, “The bunker had medical supplies in it, a whole closet, but they were destroyed during the fire. By the time I woke up, there wasn’t anything salvageable. And June-” the first one who woke up from stasis “-wouldn’t have known about it. Only I knew, because I’m a nurse. I was prepped on medical procedures more than the rest of you. But the thing is… they had insurance. Just in case something happened to the supplies in the bunker, or in case we needed more, there should have been one buried within a ten-mile radius. It would have had a marker. I think it might still be there, if it was buried deep enough.”

It takes Cassandra a minute to absorb everything I’ve said, her mouth still agape from my statement.

I see her eyes harden, and she stands. She’s taller than me, and I have to lift my chin to meet her furious gaze.

“And you didn’t think this would have been good to know when we were dying in the fucking woods?”

I suspected her anger over this part, and explain, “It wouldn’t have mattered, Cass. We could have used the supplies in the bunker, but the stuff in the cache is long-term items. Penicillin, Morphine, Epinephrine. There was nothing of use for dehydration and minor burns, and I didn’t think it was safe to leave everyone and go on a search for the cache, risking getting lost and something happening while I was gone.”

Cass nods thoughtfully, her anger deflating somewhat.

She trusts me, I realize.

She has no reason to think I’m lying about any of this, and while there are some parts that I keep private to protect both of us, everything I’ve told her is the truth.

“Why keep it a secret until now, Sam?”

I sigh, and collapse onto the log, sitting with my legs drawn up tight. “At first it didn’t matter, I figured that if it existed, then it could wait until our primary concerns were dealt with. Then Grace and River found us, and we came back here, and I made sure everyone was fed and had water and wasn’t on the verge of death. But I… I kept it to myself after that because I knew that if I told anyone, I’d be obligated to go find it. I would have to go back into the woods.”

“We’re surrounded by woods, what the hell difference does it make?” Cass drops down beside me, tossing her whittling tools aside and focusing her attention on me.

I put my head into my hands. If I start to cry, I don’t want Cass, or, God forbid, Thorn, to see. If I cry over this, it’ll be my own secret. “It’s so easy for you…You walked right back into the woods days after we were rescued from them. I just… every time I can’t see the fire, or the lake, or a tent, I feel like I’m back there again. I’ve been…too much of a coward to leave camp.”

Cass sighs, and wraps an arm over my shoulders, “There’s nothing cowardly about it. I think Laura and Brenna are the exact same, maybe June, too. We…survived something terrible, Sam. I can’t even imagine how powerless you must have felt, knowing that our supplies burned up before we could get to them. The truth is, I hate how Wolf, Falcon, and Storm follow me around, but I also let them do it. When we’re on a hunt, I could easily lose them and hike off on my own, but I need to know they’re nearby, that someone is watching my back and will notice if I’m missing. I eat so fast sometimes that I think I might be sick after, but when I’m holding a plate of food all I can think about is how it felt almost starving to death. You’re not alone.”

Tears press out of my eyes, and I scrub my palms into them, so Cass won’t see. When I’m sure that my voice won’t waver, I tell her, “I know we’re all still struggling, I just…really didn’t want to have to do this. I thought maybe with more time here in camp, I could get over my fears.”

“What changed?”

I lift my head, meeting Cass’ gaze. “Leah. When Raven brought her to me there was no time to spare, but I could have used Morphine before I drained the fluid from her brain. It would’ve made a difference. If something like that happens again, I want to be prepared.”

Cass sucks in a breath, “If you need me to go into the woods and find it for you-”

“No!” I shake my head fervently. “I need to do this. I feel…like this is all my fault. I have to be the one to get it. Even if it means leaving the camp for a few days.”

She rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Samara, it’s a couple days. I think we can survive with just Ash until you come back. I’d offer to take you, but we’d need to bring one of the tribe along. They know the way, and the area.”

I nod. “I know. I have it planned out. I’m going to leave with one of the hunters and look for it. But there’s no reason you have to come, as much as it would be nice to have you there. I’m not…relishing the thought of seeing the bunker again, or the clearing we…lay in. You don’t need to be re-traumatized with me. Plus, you’re one of the hunters now, you need to make sure everyone has enough to eat.”

“Are you sure?” Cass looks hesitant.

I take her hands in mine. “I’m sure, I need to do this. Promise that you won’t get hurt while I’m gone?”

She rolls her eyes, but her chilly fingers grasp mine a little tighter, “I promise. Promise that you don’t strangle the hunter who escorts you. Close-contact for almost a week with one of these men would drive me insane.”

I grin at her.

The air feels tense between us, foreign.

I have the awful realization that Cass feels a little betrayed. I’m sure she’s told me every secret of hers, and here I am spilling my guts on such a big, important detail that we should have been talking about from the beginning.

Wanting to take that slightly withdrawn, slightly dejected look from her eyes, I try for a round of our game.

“Cell phones,” I tell her.

Cass’ face lifts a little, and she responds with, “Sweatpants.” I sigh in longing, sweatpants is a good one.

It’s a game the girls have been playing for weeks, a game we picked up because, in a strange way, we wanted to mourn together the loss of our whole world. So, we list things we miss, things we’ve been thinking about, things that would vastly improve our quality of life here.

Cass and I originated it, and despite the sad purpose for it, it actually seems to cheer people up.

Cass says, “Ice cold beer.”

“Cars.”

“Horror movies.”

“Pets.”

“Hair ties.”

“Medicine,” I blurt out, the word slipping from my tongue before I have any control over it.

We pause, and the light mood of the game is lost. I scramble to think of other things I miss, but my mind won’t release it: medicine. Medicine. Medicine. Medicine…

I blow out a long breath.

“We’ll have it soon,” Cass promises. “You can do this. You’re a badass!”

I try to feel that way about myself, but the truth is that I don’t feel like one at all. I feel tired, weary, and so, so afraid to reenter the wilderness.

But I have to, so I tell her, “I’ll go find someone to take me. See you before I leave?”

She ushers me away, “Good luck picking. I’ve got three men I’m happy to let you take off my hands.”

Thorn

There is something going on in camp today, something that involves the females and my hunters, that moves and develops just out of my grasp. And it has something to do with Samara.

When I approach my fresh fire in the morning with tea and the ingredients for broth in hand, it’s to find her and the hunter female, Cassandra, with their gazes intent and their heads bent together in a private conversation.

For a moment, I stand back and watch them, not wanting to interrupt just as much as I do not wish to draw attention to myself.

From afar, I watch Samara.

She is beautiful, achingly so, yet at first glance all I can think of is how tired she looks.

I see the smudge of darkness under her eyes, the paleness in her lips, the weary way she holds herself. I think of her yesterday, of the panicking illness that overtook her. She needs sleep, she needs to eat more.

It…pains me, the need to provide these things to her, the need to take care of her. But she will not let me.

Even yesterday, she had pulled away, and had left me in the woods with a distant, reserved gaze.

I remember our conversation in such vivid detail still, as if it only occurred moments ago, and with the day that has passed since the details only grow shaper.

How Samara had felt in my arms, her body small and so soft. Her dark curls, tucked under my chin, like curling strands of elm. Her smell, as it wrapped around me, sweet and clean and tantalizingly feminine. Like her medicinal plants, lavender, echinacea, chamomile, like fresh earth and flowers.

Would she smell the same all over?

I turn my thoughts away from how Samara might smell or taste if I was to unwrap her leathers and bare her to my gaze, and instead watch her and Cassandra continue to whisper.

They split apart, when the rest of the tribe begins to awaken, yet Samara’s expression remains cloudy and distracted.

I make the decision then to keep an eye on her for the rest of the day.

Cassandra does not leave to hunt, as she does most mornings, and instead she remains hovering around the camp.

The females bathe when they are all awake, and their conversation is lowered on the walk back from the warm spring. Samara seems to be the focus of their attentions.

By the time Ash prepares the midday meal, with meat from Falcon and Raven’s nearby traps, I am too distracted to be able to do any real work, and I am not the only one who notices.

River, taking a break from building the hut for Grace, approaches me with a plate of food.

He nudges my arm with his, and gestures with his chin to Samara and Cassandra, “What do you make of this, brother?”

My meal rests uneaten in my lap, atop one of the carved slabs of wood that the females insist all of us eat from.

Even when I answer River, I do not tear my gaze from Samara, “I do not know. I have been watching all morning.”

“Perhaps my Grace can assist us.” River raises his voice, calling to her, “Come sit, Grace. I have enough food for us both.”

Grace, despite being entrenched in the conversation with the other females, perks up at the sound of her name. She excuses herself, and crosses over to where we sit.

She takes a seat beside River, smiling affectionately as they begin to share their food. “How’s the building going? You sure you don’t want help today?”

River pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, in a touch so intimate and tender that I feel I should turn away.

I cannot…look at them for very long.

I am happy for my tribes mate, Raven as well, yet their joy only causes to remind me what I cannot have, what I want so badly with Samara.

He says, “Do not fuss, my Grace, I want to build you our home. Either way, you seem distracted today.”

Grace smirks, “Oh, I see what’s happening. You called me over because you want to know what the girls have been whispering about all day.”

River puts aside his food and hauls his female into his lap, wrapping her in the circle of his arms, “Or perhaps I wanted to eat with my pretty female on my knee-”

I cannot let them get distracted, so I interrupt their affectionate musings, “Grace, I would like to know what is going on. Especially if it concerns Samara.”

Grace shoots me a playful look, and croons, “Ahh, you want to know about Samara.”

The tone of her voice tells me that she suspects my feelings. I cannot let this become another thing the females whisper about, not when Samara might be opposed to the mere idea.

I glare back at Grace.

Her touches and jokes with River have put her in a silly mood, both of them grinning at me as if I am a child who has spoken incorrectly, and I cannot get any information out of her when she is like this.

“Samara is the best healer we have,” I cover quickly. “I need to know if something is wrong.”

“Of course! It’s your duty to look over everyone in the tribe.”

The way that she says this sounds as if she is mocking me. I raise an eyebrow. “Yes. It is my duty to know.”

“Poor Thorn,” Grace cajoles, reaching over to give me a little tap on the arm. “First time with a crush?”

Her use of that word confounds me. “What does any of this have to do with crushing?”

“It is a word from their time, it means that you wish to mate with Samara,” River explains with a boyish grin.

He knows this word too? Grace must have explained it to him, which means that there is a possibility they have discussed my feelings towards the healer in private.

The thought is horrifying.

I glare at them, frustration surging. “I only wished to know what the females have been whispering about all day.”

“You could simply ask,” River points out.

I turn my anger to him. He is a traitor, turning on me now that his female sits on his lap and giggles behind her hand.

“Yes, go ask! Tell her that you’re worried about her! Pretend to yawn and put your arm over her shoulders,” Grace laughs.

I do not understand what she is suggesting, and when I turn to River he simply shrugs, though he’s laughing along with his female.

What a waste of time this conversation has been.

I rise to my feet and storm away from them.

Perhaps I will ask. Perhaps what transpired between Samara and I yesterday will soften her anger towards me, and she may be more open to sharing any concerns with me.

I see that Samara speaks to Wolf and Falcon and pause.

What could she have to speak to them about? Their conversation, the closer I walk to them, begins to reach my ears.

With Samara’s back to me, she does not see me approaching, so I am able to piece it together before she knows I am listening.

“…have already checked with Cassandra? She would be better suited to this,” Wolf is telling her. “And I would happily take her.”

“Or I,” Falcon cuts in, before adding, “Wolf is right, female, you are not ready yet to journey through the woods.”

Samara’s back stiffens before she says, “I know enough. And I’m not sending someone else. I’m going.”

I can only see Wolf and Falcon’s expressions from my position, and their eyes are filled with concern, their voices lowered in sincerity. Whatever they are discussing, it is serious.

My heart in my throat, I try to piece together what they are saying.

“Perhaps, given enough time, you will be prepared to travel. But you have never hunted, you have only gone as far as the hot spring. A journey such as the one you are describing would be difficult-” Falcon explains, but Samara cuts him off.

I see her throw her arms in the air, “Look, I’m going. And it has to be soon. Now, will one of you take me or not?”

I begin to make sense of their conversation, and in doing so, horror blooms like a bramble in my chest, digging thorns into my lungs.

“Samara,” her name tumbles from my lips, and she gives a little jump of surprise before she spins around. “What is it you ask the hunters?”

Her lips are parted, full and a red so deep that it’s almost purple, almost as if she is frozen halfway through a word. But she is fast, this female, with her intellect and her words, and her anger, which hardens her chin as she looks up at me.

“I’m asking for them to escort me,” she explains. “I need to go back to the bunker, as soon as possible.”

“The bunker?” I feel as though she has reached into my stomach and twisted my insides, her little fingers tight around my organs, the pressure stealing my very breath. “Absolutely not, it is out of the question.”

I see Samara’s eyes flash with fury, and she faces me fully, her hands fisted at her sides. “It is absolutely not up to you. You might be their leader, but you don’t control what I do.”

I close the distance between us, my chest almost hitting her pointed chin, jut out in indignation.

My fury matches hers, rising up like fire within me. It scalds my insides, this potent mixture of anger and fear.

“You will not go, Samara. I will keep you here myself if need be.”

“The hell you will! I am going to that bunker whether you want me to or not.” She spits back.

“I have many ideas as to how I’ll keep you from blindly taking off into the woods, though I doubt you will like them very much.”

Samara reels back, her eyes ablaze, and we’re interrupted by a polite cough from Falcon.

He and Wolf are still sitting nearby, and perhaps even the rest of the camp has come to watch our argument, but it would not matter to me.

She cannot go.

I will not allow her to risk her life in the woods, knowing that the females almost starved, knowing how Raven’s female fell ill and almost died on her own.

But it is more than that. I am terrified to have her put at risk, yet I also ache fiercely at the idea of being parted from her, of spending long days and nights without even her anger or her bitterness to face during my days.

Samara has become important to me, I realize now at the prospect of her leaving me here and walking into danger. Not because she is one of the females, not because she is the healer.

It is my feelings for her, the “crush” that even Grace and River noticed.

I do not just want to mate with her, I want to make her happy, I want to make her safe, I want her smooth brown skin under my hands and mouth, I want to part her thighs and discover just how soft she may be between them. I want to open the exterior of her hardened demeanor, like ripe fruit, and see if she is soft there as well, if there is a side of the female that is sweet or playful.

“My decision is final,” I say, and the words come out harsh and frightened.

I have a split second to regret the way I have spoken to her just now, wishing that I could have approached this carefully like River or maybe Wolf would.

I realize that maybe she does not like me because I am so harsh, because I am an angry brute half the time and avoiding her the other half.

Samara’s cheeks are alight with anger, her voice higher than normal with emotion, “Your decision doesn’t mean anything to me, you fucking ass! I’m going.”

I ignore the name calling.

I know what body part she has called me and can insinuate from her tone that she is not paying me a compliment. “Then I will be the one to take you.”

I hear a series of gasps at this conclusion, yet none of them are from Samara.

She simply remains furious, and it is Wolf who interrupts to say, “Thorn, you would leave the camp for so many days?”

I keep my gaze fixed on Samara as I answer, “I used to leave camp before the females joined us, I have not lost any sense of direction or skills.”

“It is not that,” Wolf says. “What if we need a leader while you are gone?”

Samara laughs, though the sound is sharp and cruel. “Yeah! You need to stay at camp so you can boss everyone around all day. What would they possibly do without you?”

I grit my teeth, “And yet you deprive them of a healer for days without a second thought. If they can survive without you then they can survive without me. River and Grace will lead.”

“Or why not stay and someone else can take me? Literally anyone else.” She demands.

At this, some of my anger is deflated, and a grin spreads across my face.

Samara has lost this battle, whether she knows it yet or not. Now that I have said only I will escort her, none of my hunters will argue.

I fold my arms over my chest and ask, loud enough for all to hear, “Is there anyone else who wishes to escort our little healer back to the bunker?”

I am met with silence, and Samara’s livid gaze.

When no one offers, I say, “It is settled. I will take you. Be ready at dawn.”

Samara

I don’t have any other choice.

For the rest of the long day, I try my best to find anyone else to take me.

I ask the hunters, a second time, a third time, getting them alone and away from Thorn, but they refuse. Even River says no when I ask him and Grace to take me. Grace gives him a little shove on the arm for his bluntness, but even she can only look at me and shrug.

It seems like every single one of the hunters are bound by Thorn’s word, as if they, grown men, are terrified to go against what he’s asked. Even if they don’t want to lose him as their leader for a few days, the prospect of defying him by accompanying me terrifies them.

By sunset, I’m frustrated, tired, and simply out of other options.

Grimly, I let Cassandra help me pack.

I didn’t have anything of my own to begin with besides the stasis suit lying in a crumpled heap in my tent, everything is a gift or is borrowed from others.

Still, we pack some layers, some furs for sleeping, and some dried meat and fish that can be eaten on the walk. And we leave space, in the pack that Grace lends me, space for medical supplies.

I feel at a loss for what to say to Cassandra with the journey looming ahead of me, and she must sense my worry because instead of crawling into her own furs after we eat a quick meal, she comes into mine.

I let her press into the small space in surprise.

Cass is not exactly a warm person, and she’s not the type of friend I expect to offer physical comfort. I’m worried I’ll scare her away.

But there’s something so nostalgic in the way we lie now, facing each other in the darkness of our tent, listening to everyone settle in for sleep around us.

“I have a sister,” Cass offers out of nowhere, and her eyes are so dark in the low light that they seem to reflect the moonlight that cuts through the doorway, blowing with the wind. Laura hasn’t joined us yet, and she might not for a while. “She would crawl into my bed if one of us was upset.”

I think of us now, our bodies pressed together, our voices a breath above silent, and I can almost picture it in my head, Cass and her sister whispering conspiratorially in the dark of a bedroom.

I grew up an only child, amidst a frigid, distant marriage. I would often think how nice it would be to have a sibling.

But that’s why these women feel so close to me now.

We’re like family in our own way, thrust into an impossible situation, feeling like we’re adrift in a new time.

All we have is each other.

“Are you upset?” I ask gently.

I assumed Cass crawled in here for my benefit, but I don’t want to ruin this tentative closeness if she’s here for herself.

I’m rewarded with an eye roll. “You’re barely talked all night. You look like you’re about to walk the plank or something.”

I release a humorless laugh, “I feel a bit like I am. Last time we were in the woods-… Well, you remember.”

“It’ll be different,” Cass promises. “You’ll have Thorn. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“Yeah, because he’d hate to lose his one real healer,” I scoff.

“No, dumbass, because he’s into you.”

Oh. That… had occurred to me, perhaps yesterday when he had held me in the woods.

But I haven’t told anyone, so how could Cass even know that we touched each other that way?

I feel utterly drained of any feelings right now besides worry for the journey. If I had any strength left, I would likely be torn between my own silly attraction to the tribe leader and being furious with him over how he acted today.

Cass laughs a little. “Don’t tell me you had no idea.”

“I… don’t understand him,” I say carefully.

“Well, maybe you’ll understand if I put it this way.” Cass whispers. “All these men care about is making babies, and every single one of them has hit on us girls. Wolf is like my own personal shadow. Falcon always joins me on hunts and last week he caught a rabbit just so he could make mittens for June. Storm flirts with just about everyone. And River and Raven are obsessed with their partners. But Thorn? He’s barely so much as given any of us a second glance. Except you. He inserted himself into your conversation today and insisted you go with him into the woods and nobody else. I know you’re smart enough to know what all that means.”

I let out a heavy sigh and begin to braid the fur blanket in front of my face. My hands need something to do.

All I can think about, now that Cass mentioned babies, is what it might be like to make them with Thorn.

No, I chastise myself, I should not go down that road.

I can’t go down that road. It doesn’t matter how utterly gorgeous, and infuriating, Thorn is. These women need me, I need to get to the cache, and if I come back to camp still feeling the same way, I’ll decide if I’m ready to even think about going there with Thorn.

For now, the idea makes my stomach drop and my hands sweat as they nervously braid the fur.

“If you’re not interested, I get it.” Cass says. “It’s not like I had plans to settle down in prehistoric Canada and have some babies, either. I wanted…different.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

It doesn’t help to keep despairing over our situation. It’s been a month of this life and it’s seemed so impossible to get used to, but a conversation leading in this direction usually ends in tears and not much else.

What can be said? What can be done? This is how things are now, and we have to adapt.

“I have to go, Cass. And if it has to be with Thorn, then so be it. I’m out of options. If someone gets hurt or sick again and I don’t have that cache of medication, it will be my fault if they die.”

I think I say this more for my benefit than her own, like I need to keep saying out loud why I have to do this, need to keep talking myself into it.

“I know,” she replies. “Just like I know you’ll be okay. If anyone could excel at watching your back, it would be Thorn.” There’s a pause where her joke hangs in the air before she blurts out, “You know, like, he’s checking your butt out.”

“I got it.” I laugh, despite myself, and feel lighter than I have all day. I take Cassandra’s hand in mine, feeling the flex of her fingers, calloused from even just a month of stone-age hardships. “I’ll miss you, you’re my ally here.”

“And you’re mine. Don’t… do something stupid like getting hurt or lost or pregnant.”

I grin, “I’ll try my best.”