Baring the Thorn (The Mountain Tribe #3)

Chapter 4

Thorn

I am awake before the sun rises, when the world is still dark and frost clings to the ground beneath my furs.

I dress in the silent darkness of my tent, smaller than the ones the females use and meant only for my own use, my breath fogging before me in the chill.

I am mostly packed but I go through my bag to make sure that I have everything we might need. I run through the items in my head as I pack them a second time, dried food, bones for broth, roots for cleaning our teeth, plenty of herbs for tea, clean cloth, furs to sleep on, flint for fires, arrows, knives.

It has been many turns of the moon since I have last left camp on a journey.

Before the females arrived, I would hunt along with my men, usually venturing out on my own, in the hopes that if we covered more ground, we might find food. I would usually return within a day.

Things were so very different back then, I think, as my belly is a churn of nerves and excitement for my journey with Samara.

We were starving, slowly, dying off, aware of the impending end of humanity like some dark beacon on the horizon.

I had tried my best to lead us during those dark times, had tried to lift morale and instill hope in my brothers, but it had been a never-ending, bleak winter.

When the females arrived, in the spring, it had changed everything.

I stayed nearer to the camp, wanting to look over everyone and help wherever I was needed. Yet I had witnessed something, my men smiling, laughing, their bodies filling out with strength, muscle, as food returned to the forest, seemingly along with females. It is not all exhaustion, worry, and work, leading a tribe of so many.

My tribe is happy, and there is hope once more in the faces of my men.

I sit at the fire and brew a batch of tea, small enough for two, and feel the same hope lifting in my chest.

This journey will be good for Samara.

I will show her that I can take care of her, that I can provide for her, and that I can make her happy. I will bring her to the bunker, soothe what troubles her, and hold her small, soft body against mine as I did when she was panicking.

And, if she allows me to, I will tumble her into my furs, discover where and how she enjoys being touched, discover what sounds I can produce from her deep lips in release.

A tent rustles over my shoulder, and I turn in time to see Samara emerge, her eyes shadowed from lack of sleep and the round tip of her nose red in the cold.

She has worn her warmest leathers, and has brought her own pack, and my heart swells with pride at this brave, intelligent female.

I can see the fear in the grim set of her mouth because of our journey, yet still she is here ready to embark on it.

Surely, there is no better female for me in this tribe, surely there is no one who can impress me so much with their mind and their will, while inspiring such ravenous longing in me.

I offer her some tea, and Samara takes it, sitting on the ground with a little sigh.

“I half expected you not to come,” I tell her, drinking my own tea and trying not to smile with my relief.

She gazes thoughtfully into the fire. “I had to, I told you. If you’re the only one who’ll take me, then I don’t have another choice.”

It is not pleasant to hear that I am a last resort to her, but I am comforted by the thought that Samara let me hold her in the woods two days ago, and that she is allowing me to accompany her to the bunker.

Surely, there must be some softness towards me in her mind, some kind feeling, even if the way I forced her hand yesterday infuriated her.

“I am sorry that I yelled,” I admit.

Samara looks over to me. “But not sorry that you convinced all of the hunters to refuse to take me?”

I shrug. “They do not challenge me often, you are right. But they have their own reasons for staying nearby. I have not made the… attachments they have.”

She understands my meaning. “Right, they don’t want to miss a chance to flirt with the girls. We’d better hurry back then before any of your men keep someone captive again.”

She means Raven and Leah’s match, which began with much anger and bitterness after his keeping her captive but has since softened.

Now, Leah and Raven are inseparable, and the cries of their mating are heard just as frequently as Grace and River’s.

I shake my head, “They have been warned the consequences if they do something as Raven did.”

“Consequences don’t matter in the moment,” Samara tells me. “Your men might not want to disobey you while you’re here, but it’ll be another story when you’re gone. Like teenagers when the parents are on vacation.”

I glance at her, at the little twist of amusement at the corner of her mouth. She is so appealing, tired or furious or mocking, it does not matter the time of day or the mood.

I thought Samara beautiful from the first time I laid eyes on her, filthy and half-dead, yet already with enough strength to order me about.

“Are you trying to convince me to stay here?”

She feigns innocence. “Not at all. I’m just saying don’t be surprised if when we come back, things are different.”

I hope they will be.

I hope that I will return with Samara’s affections, I hope that I will build her a hut for the two of us, that I will spend each night between her thighs.

I tell her, “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return.”

I have no intention of rushing, but I do want to leave before the rest of the camp awakens. Already, the sky around us has warmed from a deep purple to a soft blue, and soon the sun will begin to rise, and the hunters will rouse.

“Agreed,” Samara hops to her feet, and we finish the last of our tea before I lead her into the woods.

We pass a spring that is used to fill water stores, we pass a warm pool, and the clearing that River has begun to build in for his Grace, and then the trees swallow us up.