Baring the Thorn (The Mountain Tribe #3)

Chapter 5

Samara

W e walk for some time in silence.

Crushing, brutal quiet with only the snapping of twigs beneath our feet to signify that we are even real, that we are passing through the wilderness.

I had never spent much time outdoors in my life before stasis.

As an adult I was too busy with my studies and then my job, and as a child my family didn’t have the money required to go on trips outside of the city.

Toronto was constantly growing in that time, like some unstoppable mold spreading across the Earth, suffocating the forest. It would have taken us three hours just to reach the city’s outskirts. If I wanted to see a tree, I would have stopped at the hospital’s small faux garden by the front entrance and passed my hand through the flickering holograms like it was smoke.

At that time, being in the actual woods would have seemed like a luxury.

But there is nothing beautiful to me about the forest around us, the cool greens and melting frost, the lazy way the trees move in the early morning wind.

Once we are beneath the canopy of leaves, all light seems to be sucked from our world, and the dark dampness quickly becomes oppressive.

It could be beautiful, but all I can think about is my first week here, all I can feel is the bone-deep cold and the expanse of quiet, like Thorn and I are the last people alive.

I can feel panic clawing up my throat.

I can feel myself tumbling down some dark path where the destination is that week of suffering, starving to death, crying until my body was so dehydrated that all I could do was lie listlessly on the forest floor.

At my sides, my hands begin to sweat, and I start panting harder than our walk would require.

“You haven’t asked me why we’re going back to the bunker.” The words burst out of me.

I’m desperate for a change of topic, for some distraction. Even though I’m furious at him for the way he insisted on taking me, and awkward from the discussion I had with Cass last night, Thorn is all I’ve got for distraction.

I look up at him, leading the way.

He stops at my words and turns around to give me a thoughtful look.

And what a wonderful distraction he makes.

I had thought that he looked at home in the camp, ordering everyone around, directing the hunts, giving out food, and checking in with everyone to make sure they’re warm. But here, in the forest, he seems to come alive.

His angular cheekbones are pink with exertion, his eyes crisp green like the wash of foliage around us, his red hair set in glorious contrast.

He’s dressed warmly, in leathers that cover him from neck to wrists, and down to his boots, but he is undoubtedly muscled beneath, his shoulders causing the animal skin to strain over his back and at his biceps.

I can’t stop thinking about what Cass said, about the attention he pays just to me, and about how we’ll be stuck alone together for almost a week with nothing but each other for company.

“I do not try to get much information out of you, little healer,” Thorn remarks.

I roll my eyes at the nickname, which seems to have stuck.

Everyone would be “little” compared to the giants in Thorn’s tribe, himself included. He’s at least six feet and a few inches, and he’s not even the tallest one.

But Thorn’s air of confidence, discipline, and leadership make him seem like some huge entity beside the rest of the men.

“What does that mean?”

“You are a very private female.” He shrugs, and we continue walking as we talk, him leading the way. “And I do not think you like my company very much.”

A laugh shakes out of me.

I don’t get along with him at all, but I am more attracted to Thorn than I have ever been to any meaningless fling back in my time.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles whenever he’s near, and I always looked over my shoulder to find him already watching me steadily.

I like him too much for my own good.

“Maybe not. But I am grateful to you for taking me,” I shudder as I cast a glance around us. “It isn’t easy to be in these woods after what happened last time.”

Thorn stops walking, so suddenly that I almost bump into him and I have to stumble a little to find my footing.

His brow lowers in concern as he says, “I am sorry that you think of last time. I… know what it is to starve, to feel hopeless, to see death on the horizon.”

I suck in a strained breath.

I can’t break my eyes away from his intense gaze.

Again, I think that he’s the only person who knows exactly what I’m going through. “I’m sure you do know… I’ve heard that it was really bad before River found Grace.”

He nods. “More than that. We were starving slowly, but there was a time before I found River or Falcon or any of the others. I was alone in the forest with nothing. I will not ever forget that gnawing hunger.”

Maybe I’ve begun to shake a little, because Thorn puts a steadying hand on my shoulder, and I lean into the touch, feeling grounded by it again, like I had felt days ago.

“I never could have imagined. I wasn’t very rich before, I only had my nursing salary, and my parents didn’t have much when I was growing up. But hunger like that… stays with you. I’m sorry you had to experience it too. Despite what you might think, I don’t dislike you.”

Thorn’s lips quirk up at the corner, “I did not think that.”

A statement saturated with a fair amount of male confidence. A flush begins to creep up my neck, and I feel like his hand is on my bare skin instead of resting over thick layers of leathers.

I shrug it off and press forward.

“We need to go back for a cache of supplies,” I tell him, suddenly, the words coming out as if from some deep fountain inside of me. “When they put us in stasis, they put a cache of medical supplies nearby that could be dug up, and in the case that something happened to the bunker’s supplies. We were so terrified that first day, and then after we just focused on survival. I didn’t have the time to look for the cache because we were desperate to find water, food, or shelter. Then Grace came, and we went back to the tribe, and met all of you and-” I’m talking so quickly that it feels like I’m vomiting the words at him more than explaining myself, and they taste bitter, like bile, on my tongue. “You must think I’m the most…selfish ‘healer’ in the world. I would’ve gone looking for the cache after enough time but when Leah almost died it sped everything up.”

“Samara,” the way Thorn says my name doesn’t feel chastising, but I prepare myself for some long lecture about taking care of everyone and thinking of the greater good anyways. He shocks me, instead, by softening his words. “Why did you not ask me to get this for you? You could have told me all of this and it would be done.”

I’m startled to feel my eyes begin to prick with tears, and I blink furiously at him in an attempt to clear them.

“I just… It has to be me, Thorn. You, more than anyone, should understand that. I’m the one who didn’t get the medicine soon enough to help Leah. It’s my responsibility.”

“You do not need to punish yourself. Every person sees how much you do for the tribe.”

I…don’t know how to talk to Thorn this way, with him suddenly being so understanding and patient.

When the hell did he get patient? He has to be the most impatient, bossy man I’ve ever met in my life and yet he looks at me now like he could almost pity me, like he truly cares.

“I never thanked you for your help that day,” I tell him, wanting to change the subject again. I’ve never been comfortable with praise, especially not from someone I’ve been fighting with for weeks, who’s now being inexplicably kind. “With Leah.”

“You do not need to thank me,” Thorn tells me, before he beckons me to keep walking.

We approach a steep hill, and I pant from the sudden incline.

After a moment, he tells me, “There is little that I would not do for you.”

We continue walking for the rest of the day, breaking every so often to drink from our waterskins and chew on some dried food.

Thorn takes the time to point out the area to me, so I don’t feel so lost, noting markers in the land, man-made scratches on trees, older fire pits or animal traps that were used by his tribe in the last decade.

He has no plans to hunt the first day, focusing instead on crossing a particularly difficult patch of land and eating through our stores of dried food.

The hike is grueling.

Thorn cuts through the forest and heads straight for the line of mountains that circle the tribe’s camp, and we spend the better part of the day climbing up them.

By the time the sun begins to set at our backs and the forest is thrown into shades of orange and russet, my back is soaked in sweat and I’m so exhausted that I’m beginning to stumble.

After almost face-planting into a tree, Thorn turns back in alarm to see me righting myself, panting from the day’s exertion. I tried to keep up, I tried to not whine once about the walk, but I was exhausted when we left camp, and a day of nonstop exercise would have been far easier if I hadn’t spent the last few weeks run off my feet.

He tilts his chin, almost in concern. “You are tired. We should sleep early this night.”

Sleep sounds… incredible right now.

My feet and leg muscles are in an uproar from all the walking, and the darkness that quickly folds around us pulls me in.

But it doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

After his directions and instruction, I feel confident that I could find my way back to the tribe and standing nestled against the mountain as we are now, I can even make out the distant glow of the campfire in the valley.

It’s comforting, that distant proof of humanity, the proof that I’m not lost in the woods again.

I drop unceremoniously to sit on the hard ground, and I have dried meat pushed into my hands before he starts on the fire.

Once it’s lit, we share our small meal with some fresh tea, before Thorn begins to spread out the furs.

The forest darkens quickly, and I’m so tired that my eyelids grow heavy, my jaw chewing around the food out of reflex alone and not real hunger.

We’ve made our camp in a rocky outcropping cushioned by trees, so while we’re near an incline, there’s no risk of one of us rolling down the mountain while we sleep.

With the last rays of sunlight, I’m able to enjoy the view a little. The mountains here are so dramatic, and I can’t help but think back to Grace’s story of how she almost fell down them to her death.

I glance over at Thorn, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing.

“Whoa!” I almost drop my tea in surprise when I see where he’s set up the bed. “Why the hell are your furs right up against mine?”

He has them pressed against each other, almost like he’s made a double bed out of pelts, and my cheeks heat just looking at how close we would be.

Thorn looks at me like I’m being ridiculous. “It will be a cold night, and you were frightened of the woods today.”

Warmth and comfort?

That can’t be all that he’s thinking of. I’ve known enough men in my life to know when they expect something more, yet Thorn’s expression is neutral as he pulls off his boots and feeds the fire a little more, so that it stays lit while we sleep.

I scoff, “And you didn’t think to ask first?”

“Samara,” he says my name in a chastising way, like I’m the one being unreasonable while he expects us to basically sleep spooning. “You will be glad of the warmth.”

I’m hesitant to crawl into bed, but already the wind begins to pierce through my layers, and the furs look so soft and warm up against the fire, and I know that Thorn runs hot, so pretty soon my exhaustion wins out.

I crawl around the fire and pull off my own boots.

I leave my leathers on, knowing that the night will be too cold for me to remove them, and climb under the covers.

Thorn finishes his work in our little camp, placing wood beside the fire in case we need it, packing away all our things and tucking our food out of reach from animals, and prepping a skin with some water and tea so it will be nearby in the morning.

Then he joins me beneath our furs.

I turn to face him. “No funny business, got it?”

In the dying light of the fire, Thorn looks like some bronze, flaming-haired devil. He’s altogether far too handsome, and his warmth filling the space under the blankets, his smell charging the air.

His mouth twists with amusement, “Funny business?”

“Mating,” I clarify, using his language, “or any of the… lead up.”

Thorn chuckles, and I hate that the sound vibrates through me, seeming to end up right between my legs.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him laugh, but his chuckle is deep and warm, and I feel it everywhere. Cass was right, this will be a lot harder than I thought if we’re to spend every night beside each other.

“I did not think we would be mating this night,” he tells me, though his voice is far lower than I’ve ever heard it, and the slight huskiness is distracting me from his words.

What a minute…this night? Does he have the intention of mating in the future?

I can barely see him in the dark, now, but it only makes him feel that much closer, like everywhere I turn is his body heat and his masculine scent and the grin that I can hear in his voice.

“So, you want to mate… other nights?”

“Samara,” his voice caresses my name, turns it into something delicate and erotic. “You are tired. You should sleep now.”

It’s not an answer, but maybe it’s for the best.

If I start pulling the string of this attraction to each other, if I follow where this leads, I’m not sure I want to know what’s at the end.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to start something when I’m not in control of this lifestyle, when every day we fight to keep surviving, when medicine is scarce, and when any ‘mating’ could mean a child, even if we’re as careful as possible.

Not to mention that Thorn, just like the rest of the single men in his tribe, are likely virgins.

If I were to… work out some of the physical tension between us, he might take it more seriously than I do.

In this time, things seem to get serious quickly. River and Raven have no intention of ever leaving their partners and are happily planning extensions to their hut for any future children.

For their part, Grace and Leah seem just as overjoyed, but am I truly ready for that?

I’m not even thirty yet, and though all of my plans for my late twenties disappeared into smoke along with my civilization, the city and the time and the hospital, that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to settle down.

Thorn faces me, his broad chest bumping my shoulder and his big feet just below mine, and the soft puffs of his breath move the hair off my forehead.

I feel the inexplicable pull to reach out and touch him, to flatten my palms over his pecs and put my cold nose against the base of his throat to warm it, to tangle my legs with his and sleep with my cheek over his heart.

I don’t know if he’d let me or not, but the thought takes hold in my mind and won’t release.