Baring the Thorn (The Mountain Tribe #3)

Chapter 28

Samara

W e reach the camp far too quickly.

Within just a few days, we’re back on that crest of mountains, staring down at the wispy trail of smoke coming off the main fire, and I know that we’re less than a day away. Now, I feel an even more nauseating mix of emotions than the last time I was up here, and I don’t pause to take in the beauty of our valley anymore.

My stomach is a bundle of churning, sickening nerves, and Thorn’s presence beside me, his steady gaze on me, does little to soothe it.

I just… thought we’d have more time.

More time to make love slow and achingly sweet before we fall asleep in our furs, more time to talk by the fire, telling each other stories of our lives, more time for me to explain jokes from my time only to receive a heart-meltingly handsome look of confusion, more afternoons walking through the forest, hand-in-hand, confident in the wilderness now that I braved it alone.

Now that we stare down at the end of our journey, the end of this time of peace between us and with the tribe, I have the irrational urge to turn and run back into the tree line.

I look up at Thorn, at his tortured expression, and know that whatever I’m feeling is probably nothing compared to the turmoil in him.

His tribe is on the line, relationships with the hunters he grew up with, men who are his family. He could stand to lose everything by telling them the truth, about the medicine, about Hawk and the tribe, about what he’s known all along.

My heart gives a painful tug looking at him, and I know that I have to be strong for both of us, have to swallow down my nerves and stick by his side. That doesn’t mean that I have to lie about my own worries, though, if Thorn and I will work together we have to be honest.

“I thought it would take longer,” I tell him, simply, even though that statement encompasses so much more.

“It is not so far when you are comfortable with the terrain,” he adds after a moment, “and when you are not dragging me behind you.”

I blow out a breath. Without thinking, my fingers trace up his wounded arm, over the heavy raised scars and the deep long gashes that cut through the muscle.

“It’s in your hands, Thorn. The way you handle this. But I-…” I struggle to get the words out. “I won’t lie to the other women.”

Thorn’s gaze softens, and he reaches up to tuck back a stray curl that blows into my eyes. “I would never ask you to, my heart. Just as I would never force you to stay if the rest of the tribe left.”

The idea is so painful that I refuse to even consider it.

“That won’t happen. If I could forgive you when I was half in love with you, then the other women will forgive you. And I think that wherever they choose to stay, the hunters will follow. Plus, you’ve nailed down the healer. Everyone sticks by the healer.” I give him a sardonic grin, but I’m not surprised when he doesn’t return it.

It’ll hurt, whatever happens, whatever the future holds, but we’ll face it together.

We walk down into the valley together, Thorn silent from the intensity of his thoughts, and me from nerves.

We reach the camp by the time the sun is beginning to fall, and fireflies are sparking to life in the bushes along the river. It’s warmer down here than it was towards the north, with no snow left to melt and a soothing breeze that does little for the swath of panicked sweat over the back of my neck.

When we enter the clearing by the main fire, we’re immediately swarmed by everyone. Some people are still off hunting, namely Cassandra, Wolf, Falcon, River, Grace, and Brenna, but the others are thrilled to see us.

I’m hugged by June, Leah, and Laura, who are desperate to know what took us so long and exercise their worry in tight arms wrapping around me and gasps of relief. At my side, the men around the camp approach Thorn with less relief.

Like he said, they can take off for weeks for a hunt without the others worrying too much.

Whatever shock they experience when they see his arm and the new faint scars around his face and neck is quickly smothered behind pleased expressions. But West races up with a happy cheer, and I watch with a strange twist in my chest as Thorn scoops him up and easily holds him against his chest, all long dangling legs and cute toothy grins.

He gives the kid a genuine smile, hiding his worries, and affectionately ruffles West’s curly hair.

I’m so distracted by watching him that I barely notice I’m being asked a million questions until June grips my arm and repeats herself.

“Sam? The medicine?” She prompts. “Did you find it?”

I tear my eyes away from the longing in Thorn’s expression as he clutches the boy close, knowing that in less than a day, all of this could be taken away from him, and face my friends.

“Yeah, I found it. We got it.”

“That’s great!” Leah says, reaching for my hands. I put Thorn from my mind for a moment and just revel in this relief, in this triumph. I hold Leah’s hands in mine, small and pale, and we grin at each other, my eyes brimming with tears. She was the reason for this trip, she was the catalyst that pushed me to fight through my fear and head out into the wilderness.

None of this would have happened without her nearly dying.

Maybe I hold her hands too hard, maybe I ruin the happy moment by beginning to cry, but it all comes together and overwhelms me now that I’m standing in front of her, knowing that if she gets sick again, I can save her.

“Oh, Sam!” The girls exclaim in sympathy, and pull me into a messy, awkward group hug that seems to be just for my benefit. I think that Leah’s cheek is against mine, and I’m not sure who’s hand is stroking my hair but it’s there, soothing and gentle, and I just let myself cry and sniffle like a baby as I’m crowded, warm and safe, with my own little tribe.

Out of nowhere, Thorn’s big hand lands on my back, and the girls extricate themselves from me so I can be spun around to face his worried gaze.

He’s put West back down, and his attention is solely honed-in on me.

“What is it? What is wrong?” He demands.

It makes my heart splinter that he’s worried about me right now, when we know what’s coming, but it’s this part of him that makes me love him so fiercely, that made me forgive him for lying. Thorn puts others first, always, almost to a fault, the same way I do.

I give him a watery smile. “I’m just… relieved to be back, with the medicine, with you mostly in one piece. It all kinda hit me at once.”

“Ah, female,” Thorn pulls me against him, brushing the tears from my cheeks with his warm, calloused thumbs. “Strong, brave Samara. I am so proud.”

And then, in front of about ten shocked faces, he kisses me, deep and thorough.

A kiss that says that no matter what happens, no matter where I go or who I side with or who leaves, he will always be mine.

Thorn waits until everyone returns to camp.

When the sun has fully set, the hunting parties appear, meat in hand, and we’re hugged and gushed over some more. At this point, I think it’s clear to everyone that we’re together, and Thorn and I do nothing to conceal it. For the women, at least, they knew it was only a matter of time until we collided.

And he needs me now, at his side, my hand tucked in his, for what comes next.

The tide of nerves rising in him is strong, threatening to drown us both, but I’m here to keep him on his feet, to ground him to the camp so that it doesn’t sweep him away.

Just like he held me through my panic attack what feels like a lifetime ago, I hold onto him now and refuse to let him go, and his gratitude is clear in tender touches and meaningful looks.

This will hurt. But this is necessary.

Thorn calls everyone to sit around the fire, and when we’re all comfortable, with our plates of food balanced in our laps, some people eating and some holding back as if they feel the tension in the air, he speaks.

If I’m being honest, there was a part of me, a small wounded part, that thought he might keep lying. I had pushed that thought back, had given him the benefit of the doubt, but it had remained still. But watching him now, being the brave, honest man that I know he is, no doubt remains.

Thorn tells them everything.

He begins with his childhood, the northern tribe, what his father did, and what Hawk’s father decided on that awful day. He keeps his father’s abuse between us, and I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want pity from the tribe or because, like some things must, it exists only between us, whispered in the dark.

He tells them about dragging himself through the forest, bleeding from the stab wound to his stomach, vowing that if he ever made a home, if he ever found other people, he would protect them from the northern tribe. He admits to the strain of lying, of holding this secret in, especially when his tribe doubled in size overnight and his men rejoiced that they’d found women.

He brings them to the current day, explaining how the cache was missing and we had to track it down. He even tells them about the moment I found out, when he watched me put the pieces together and realize that we weren’t the only ones left.

And he tells them about me, which seems unimportant right now, but to him, is crucial. He talks about the bear attack, about how I saved him, dragged him for days on a stretcher made of branches and furs, and tracked down the medicine to save his life.

He explains, with a dark frown, that we had to trade for it, that we only have half but that its more than enough, and that we’ll have to go help Hawk eventually. But he adds, reverently, that I saved his life, even when he didn’t deserve it.

While he speaks this part, his gaze is focused on me, his expression one of complete awe and adoration.

I stay quiet the whole time, giving him room to get it out, and for the part of the tribe, they stay quiet too. There are no outbursts of anger, no shouted insults, they all just stare with wide eyes while he talks, and they let him finish.

When it’s done, there’s a second of silence, where little West shifts in discomfort and reaches for his stunned father, and everyone else merely blinks at us in shock.

Grace is the first to speak.

She stands up from her seat beside River and levels Thorn with a thunderous, chilling look of anger. Her tone is unnaturally calm, betraying the resentment in her words. “So, all this time you knew we weren’t the last. All those years with the hunters. And River- you lied to him his whole fucking life? You allowed everyone to live in mourning when you knew it wasn’t real?”

Thorn flinches at my side, and it’s difficult not to reach out and take his hand to soothe him.

He dug this hole for himself, and I want the other women to know that I’m not against them just because we’re together, that I see Thorn for all that he is, the achievements and the mistakes.

I predicted that Grace, in particular, would be angry.

She has every right to be. She was the first to be found, so she felt the weight of being the last woman where the rest of us didn’t. From what I know, it caused a lot of conflict between her and River when they first met, when he had expressed how important it was for them to continue populating humanity.

“If I thought that the northern tribe could be trusted, I would have told the hunters that we were not the last,” Thorn calmly explains. “It is only because I thought that the north meant their deaths that I kept them from the truth.”

“You were wrong!” Cassandra, strong and stubborn like me, stands up and shakes her head in fury. “You were wrong that whole time and these people trusted you to look after them. You abused that trust. Then you expect us to… what? Kneel at your feet because Samara figured it out and you were forced to be honest for once?”

Cass is my closest friend, practically like a sister to me, so I’m not surprised when she directs her anger at me, too, “And you’re okay with this? You come back here holding his fucking hand and sitting beside him like you’ve already forgiven him!”

I feel Thorn stiffen and give him a silencing look. Coming to my defense won’t make anything better.

Instead, I level with her, “It’s more complicated than that. I was… furious when I found out. Truly. I felt completely betrayed. But then I almost lost him.”

This is a conversation that I’d prefer to remain between Cass and I, yet instead I can feel all the eyes of the hunters and the women on me, now.

Her disappointment in me stings, but I know she just needs time to cool off and she’ll forgive me.

Maybe, eventually, she’ll forgive Thorn too.

Cass heaves a sigh and shakes her head, “Fuck this. I’m out of here.”

She throws her food into the fire, bowl and all, and storms off to the tents. The tent that used to belong to me, too.

Brenna follows behind her, shooting a glare over her shoulders at Thorn. Grace spews whispered frustration to River, though his expression is still shell-shocked, then she grabs his arm and tugs him away too.

It’s Leah who speaks next, and to my surprise, she gives me an understanding grin, “Who am I to be pissed at you for forgiving Thorn? If anyone understands how quickly you can go from hating someone’s guts to loving them in this place, it’s me.” At her side, Raven tucks a sheepish smirk into her shoulder. She turns to Thorn, “Your mistake is not Samara’s, too. The only person we should be upset at is you. You fucked up, and you have to own that.”

“I know,” Thorn tells her. “I will not…stand in the way if anyone wishes to leave or to seek out the northern tribe. I have felt the guilt of this mistake for many years.”

Leah nods thoughtfully, and then she too leads her partner away, walking Raven back to their tent.

I feel sick at the thought of any of the women leaving us, but I know that it’s their own decision, and I can’t stand in the way either. Laura eventually heads off, too, and Ash with his son.

When we’re left with just the hunters, who’s furtive glances at me signal that they want to be left alone, I stand too, pressing a kiss to the auburn waves at Thorn’s temple.

“I’m going to find Cass,” I whisper, low enough that only he can hear me. “I love you, Thorn. You did the right thing.”

And then I, too, leave him at the fire.