The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

13. Thirteen

Thirteen

An Axe to Grind

C oy insisted on carrying me into the cabin before gently placing me on the couch in front of the fireplace. The remaining orange embers glow like lava within. The warriors shout orders and rush around the cabin for a medical kit, but Coy never leaves my side. He wraps a worn blanket around my shoulders, and I take deep breaths as I try to steady my shaking bones. My body is in shock, and I will it to relax. My muscles quiver beneath the blanket, which only ignites the pain in my arms and knees. Whip brings me a cup of steaming tea as Terran sits on a stool beside me, assembling what he needs from the kit.

"May I look at your injuries?" Terran's voice is soft and calm as he asks me. When I nod and he begins to unlace my boots, I try not to jerk away with fear. Coy instantly catches my knee-jerk reaction and grabs my shaking hand in his. I hate that my body is reacting this way. I try to push it down, the weakness of fear, the uncontrollable shake of a body in shock. I resent it.

"You are safe, Snow. No one is going to hurt you." I nod again, allowing Terran to assess my knees and arms. Fingerprints mark my upper arms like violet ink, and my knees are swollen and bloodied. Most of the group left with Coy and me, but Bear and Archer stayed back with Huck. For what, I'm not sure.

I allow Terran to clean the wounds on my knees and bandage them as I sip my tea. I let the hot liquid scald my throat all the way down hoping it will jar me out of this state.

"I cannot believe Bernalon did this. I mean I knew he was scum, but I didn't believe he was that . . . demented." Terran runs his fingers through his short hair in frustration before placing them on my bruises.

"Guess we'll have to find a new dealer." My stomach sinks at Whip's comment, realizing they will need another source for Aspen's elixir. Terran closes his eyes as he begins to work on my wounds, but when I feel no change and Terran abruptly looks up at me wide-eyed, I know something’s wrong.

“What is it?” Alarm fills my chest but from the soft hazy glow at the edges of my vision, I can already suspect. My body is fighting off his power. It won’t let magic in or out.

“I think your body is somehow warding against mine.”

"I'm sorry, Terran. You don’t have to heal me. I’m sorry about tonight." My voice is a whisper laced with shame. I can't help but feel responsible for all of this. “If I didn't tag along to the tavern, you wouldn't be in need of a new dealer.”

"No!" Aspen scolds. "Don't you dare take the blame for this. That low life had it coming. I would never want to give someone like that our hard-earned coin anyway." He sits in front of me, clearly feeling better already. "You did us a favor . . . I'm just sorry it cost you what it did." The sharp prick of tears springs in my eyes but I fight it, pushing the swell of emotion back down. I nod instead.

When Terran tries to heal my knees, the same thing occurs causing him to curse in frustration.

“Snow. I’m so sorry. We’ll try again tomorrow after you’ve had time to rest.”

“It’s okay, Terran. It’s not your fault. My body is the one that’s faulty.” Terran begins to shake his head in response when the sound of boots hits the porch.

The front door swings open, and our heads all snap toward the wide frame when Huck barrels in, followed by Archer and Bear. My eyes look straight to his hands, smeared with blood. Crimson dots freckle his face and neck and a dark substance drips from his leathers. I nearly gag at the thought of what the dealer must look like after Huck was finished with him. His eyes trail over my body, marking the fingerprints on my arms and the bandages on my knees. His lips press together in a thin straight line as his amber eyes swirl with fury. If looks could kill . . .

"Well boys, we won't have to worry about Bernalon threatening anyone else again." Bear waltzes in proudly as he makes his way towards the kitchen and uncorks a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. I don't turn around, but I can hear the clinking of glasses and the splash of liquid over and over again. I'm surprised to find one of those glasses out of the corner of my eye as Bear offers me one.

"I think tonight you need something a little stronger than tea." He gives me a sympathetic grin as I take the glass from him and he clinks our rims before taking a long sip.

"Thank you." I nod to him, nervously twirling the ruby ring around my finger. Fire burns down my throat and heats my insides. I look around at the others all gathered around me and feel something in my chest inflate.

"You guys really don't have to sit here with me." I try sitting up straighter, showing them that I am okay, that I am stronger than this. "Honestly, I'm . . ." I pause before I say okay because I'm not. "I'm fine."

Terran is the first one to take my word for what it's worth.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sure you don't want a bunch of rotting warriors hovering around your space." His tone is light and playful. He's clearly only joking, but before he heads to the closet to return the medical kit, he plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head. "Let me know if you need anything at all."

"Thank you, Terran."

Archer, Whip, and Aspen all get ready for bed, leaving me, Coy, Bear, and Huck sitting in front of the fireplace full of burning embers. We sit there quietly watching the embers die down before Bear heads to bed. The patterned lullaby of snores and heavy breaths fills the room. Coy follows soon after, draining his glass and having me promise to wake him if I need anything through the night. When I thank him, his cheeks heat like they often do, and I wonder what the chances truly were for me to sneak into this cabin, amongst all the rest. To have found such kind souls amongst the sea of sharp-edged Arion Warriors.

When it's just me and Huck, the tension in the room thickens. I glance up at him and am met with his knowing stare.

"Are you okay?" Huck's question is soft—quiet, a rumble in his chest.

"Will you judge me if I say no?" His eyes harden at my reply and I almost want to take it back, thinking I've somehow disappointed him. Offended him. But then his thick lashes flutter close as he shakes his head to the side. Once.

"I should have never let that happen. You were under my protection, and I failed you." His words sink heavily into my chest. His look of disappointment wasn't directed towards my honesty, but rather at himself. He thinks this is his fault when in truth, it is mine. I shouldn't have been so foolish. I should have seen Bernalon coming—been quicker with my knife. Should have known that eyes were trailing me. I’ve protected myself for seven months, dodging every huntsman that crossed my path.

"I'm not a warrior. I am not your responsibility." My words come out hollow, willing my bubbling emotion to halt, to not leak into this fact. But even as my words reach him, his pained expression bursts a dam in my chest. It is clear nothing I say will sway him. He blames himself and accepts the consequences.

"I 'll be alright." Whether it’s true or not, I say it for his benefit as much as my own.

The fire crackles in the silence when Huck leans towards me, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes staring into my soul. "No one will ever disrespect you like that again."

It is a promise. One that no one could ever possibly keep. But despite knowing this, I believe him. Maybe for the sole fact that I just needed to hear it, or maybe because of the conviction in his voice. Regardless, I take comfort in that single sentence as I tear my eyes away from the intensity of his gaze.

"Well, I'm heading to bed too. Long day." I hear him huff a laugh as I walk to the sink to deposit my glass. The dishes can wait until morning. I head to the bathroom to get myself ready for sleep, pulling my nightgown from my bag. When I return, I pass Huck on the couch nursing his drink, and head to my bunk. My heart sinks when I get there and realize my problem. The wooden ladder to the top bunk will require me to bend my knees in a way that will surely be anything but pleasant.

Terran took care of my knees with ointment and bandages, but the injury is still there. It is still swollen. Still, I see no way around climbing. I am certainly not going to sleep on the couch that Huck is currently occupying, and I know all too well that the closet is no place for sleeping. I take a deep breath before grabbing the sides of the ladder and pulling myself up with my upper body. I bend my knee in agony trying to find the first rung of the ladder and wince in pain .

Before I have a chance to try again, warm hands grab my waist and hoist me up to the top bunk in one fluid motion and I nearly lose my head. My insides ignite. What I wouldn't give to be rid of this desire for his touch. His hands on me are like a spark to my system. I catch myself on the mattress as he sets me down lightly, his hands leaving my waist too soon.

"Thank you," I whisper in the dark. I can still feel the place where his palms once were.

"Goodnight, Snowflake." His deep voice comes from directly below me and I know he's already settled into his bunk, without a sound.

The next day, I'm cleaning the dishes at the sink, humming a tune to calm my frayed nerves, something I've always done when my thoughts become too loud or too dark to sit with when a loud noise causes me to nearly drop a glass in the sink. Every muscle freezes in place as I wait for something to follow the sound. Is it another warrior? A huntsman that's finally found me?

Grabbing the dish rag, I tip-toe to the front window in search of an answer, but no one's there. In the distance, a group of warriors walk across the camp as a unit. But that can't be where the sound came from. It was much closer.

I hear it again as I walk to the kitchen at the back of the cabin and then again when I turn the faucet back on. I don’t know if I should feel less or more concerned. It is the same sound with the same cadence. Too loud to be an animal, too consistent to be a coincidence. I stand at the sink with my hands grabbing the edge, waiting.

I hear it again, and again, and again—a sharp thud. I lean into the sink after turning the water off to look out the window, scanning the forest line when I see it, the source of the noise. My stomach flips as I watch Huck swing an axe over his head, his bare back rippling as the tool arcs over his body and drives down into the split log on the stump. A large black tattoo on full display. It’s the Arion symbol spanning across his back from shoulder to shoulder.

His necklace sways with the motion as he swings. The two pieces of wood go flying in opposite directions, falling to the cold ground. My heart is in my throat as I watch the head of the axe rest in the dirt next to his boot, one hand loosely grasping the handle. He wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm and steam seems to radiate from his taut body. It's suddenly hard to breathe.

Thank the Mother I am the only one in this cabin.

The late afternoon sun glistens off his abdomen as he places another log onto the worn stump and grasps the axe once again. Dark locks fall over his forehead when he slams the axe down again, splicing the wood in half. What is he doing out there chopping wood? He should be leading training right now in the camp, not alone on the furthest edge preparing firewood .

I should be heading out to practice fuzing soon like I do every day around this time, but instead, I stand here looking out the window, wondering if I am really about to go out there.

Curiosity gets the best of me and before I can contemplate my actions, I grab my cloak and bring a canteen out the back door, ensuring the coast is clear. Pain still alters my gait as I walk towards him but I push through, trying to mask the evidence of last night. Huck doesn't stop as I approach, but something tells me he knows I'm here.

Without looking up or even stopping his work he asks, "Here to lend a hand?"

Instead of justifying his sarcasm with an answer I hold out the canteen right above the uncut wood on the chipped stump, hoping my instinct is correct in thinking he will not cut my hand off with the blade of the axe.

Sure enough, instead of blood splattering the earth, Huck grabs the canteen and drops the axe at his side.

"Actually, I was wondering what the hell you were doing out here." With his head back, he gulps what seems like half of the water down in moments, his neck straining, before he dumps the rest of it over his head, shaking his hair out of his face. Droplets run through the dusting of chest hair before traveling down his torso. Is this guy trying to turn me on?

I swallow down my desire and stand a little straighter when he looks at me incredulously, "Is it not obvious?" Huck gestures towards the wood, laying the sarcasm on thick .

"I ought to take that axe to your head for not thanking me for the water." With that, his face falls. Sarcasm disappearing completely.

"You're right. Thank you."

I nod, satisfied. "And your reasoning for being out here instead of with your group?"

His eyes light up with amusement and something else like he's wondering when the captain of the Arion Warriors suddenly answered to me. But instead of challenging me—for once—he answers.

"General gave me the rest of the day off." He grabs his black shirt from the ground and towels off with it, drying the back of his neck.

"He just gave you the day off." I wait for him to elaborate, knowing that isn't the whole truth. He picks up the axe again before answering me, throwing it over his shoulder.

"Is there something you want?"

Knowing he isn't spilling anymore, I drop my curiosity and instead ask him what I really came out here for. "Actually, yes. I want to learn how to fight." The words fly from my mouth in desperation, but once they're out I'm glad even though I am in no place to ask this man for anything. I haven’t kept up my end of the bargain.

"You . . . want to learn . . . how to fight." It's not a question, but a confirmation.

"Yes." I must be insane asking him to spare one of his warriors when I haven’t shown him an ounce of fuzion. But the thought of being defenseless without my magic is nearly unbearable now after what happened last night. I should have been able to protect myself and I didn’t.

"Well, if it means I won't have to worry about your safety while you're here, I suppose I could train you in hand-to-hand." Although I wasn't necessarily asking for him to be the one to train me, I suppose he's the best one for the job, given that he seems to have a killer instinct for these things.

" You can't train me." My voice holds a surprise I wasn't intending for it to have. He stares at me for a moment before asking and I can't quite figure out what his eyes say—what that expression means. He's too unreadable.

"I'm the captain. I can do whatever I deem necessary. Everyone should know how to defend themselves.”

I shift my weight to my injured leg and pain shoots through my limb. I instantly stop the motion, keeping my feet where they were. Instead, I grab the empty canteen from the stack of cut wood.

"Plus, I'm not sure I trust you entirely. I'd rather keep my eye on you."

Tension rises in my neck at the words. I know he doesn't trust me. He doesn't know me. I shouldn’t be surprised. I lied to him.

"And in your case, I would say you might need to defend yourself more than most." I know he refers to my mother and her obsession. I hate that he's right.

"Thank you," I grit out through my teeth.

"Don't thank me yet. You might change your mind when I don't take it easy on you."

"I would expect nothing less," I smirk and find that a matching one tugs at his lips too.

His amber eyes stare into me like molten lava seeping through all of my cracks and I want to jump out of my skin from the intensity of it. I can't take it. I break the silent tension first.

"Well, I'll be inside if you need anything," I say as I begin to walk back to the cabin.

"I won't," he replies to my back as I near the back door. Bastard. I close the door behind me with a smile on my face, because despite Huck not trusting me, he still agreed to train me.

Maybe I've misjudged him. Maybe Huck isn't so bad after all.