Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
That delight changes to a thunderous frown when he sees Harrec.
“Good morning to you,” Harrec calls out, bouncing Pacy on his knee. “Enjoying our fine weather?”
Pashov enters and moves near the fire, his eyes narrow. “The weather is poor.”
“Is it?” I ask. “It’s so hard to tell here in the canyon.” The little city is insulated from the worst of the snows, and apparently they have been raging pretty hard lately. All we get is the occasional sprinkle of drifting snow and the incessant howling above.
Pashov nods, moving to sit next to the fire. I don’t miss that he’s sitting between myself and Harrec. I’m a little surprised—and irritated—by that. Does he truly think I would show any interest in his friend? All I want is him.
The first cake is ready, and I plate it, then offer it to Pashov. He looks surprised but gives me a grateful smile, then scarfs it down. Between bites, he glances over at Harrec. “Are you hunting today?”
“Of course.” Harrec blows a raspberry on Pacy’s belly. “I just wanted to get fed first.”
Pashov grunts and then looks over at me. “It is good. Thank you.”
I nod and feel like blushing a little, but I get to work on the next cake, slathering it with a bit of fat so it’ll cook up tasty. They discuss the game in the area and the fact that no one has seen a metlak since we arrived. I don’t mind if the metlaks are completely gone, and say so, though I do think about the mother with her little baby every now and then.
Eventually all the cakes are made and both hunters fed. Pacy starts to get fussy, and so I hand the last cake over to Pashov and put the baby to my breast.
Pashov sets his little plate down, watching me.
“Not hungry?” Harrec asks, reaching for the plate. “I will take that—”
Pashov slaps his hand away. “This is for Stay-see. She has not eaten.”
“Hmph,” Harrec says, an amused smile on his face.
I’m surprised—and a little touched—that Pashov would save one of his cakes for me. He loves them fiercely and can eat them by the dozen. “You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m fine with a bit of dried meat.”
Pashov shakes his head, stubborn. “It is for you.” He nudges the plate closer to me. “What will you do today?”
“Me?” I shrug. “Some more sewing, I think. Pacy’s growing so big that his tunics barely fit, and I need to line them with fur since it’s getting colder.”
“Do you have enough leather?”
“I can bring you some skins if you like,” Harrec volunteers.
Pashov shoots him another irritated look, and I’m mystified. These two used to be good friends. Why does Harrec seem obsessed with needling him?
“I’m good,” I tell Harrec. “Thank you.” I turn to Pashov. “But I could use some more dung chips for the fire. I’m burning the last one right now.”
“I will gather you some,” Pashov says, leaning in and putting his hand on my knee. There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he glances down at Pacy, nursing at my breast.
“No need,” Harrec interrupts, surging to his feet. “There is an entire wall of dirtbeaks on the far side of the canyon. We’ve been harvesting their nests. There are so many of them that the birds do not notice, and one good-sized nest can burn all day long.”
“Dirtbeaks?” I ask. “What the heck are those?”
“Bad eating,” Pashov says, making a face. “You do not want to taste one.”
“No one is going to eat the dirtbeaks,” Harrec says, amused. “We just want their nests. Shall I show you both? It is not so far from here.”
“Is it dangerous?” I ask. I am not a fan of the thought of being so close to an entire ‘wall’ of bird nests, but it surely can’t be dangerous or someone would have said something earlier, right? If it’s not dangerous, well, I’m curious to see these harvestable nests that will make good fuel.
Also, I have to admit I’m curious what a ‘dirtbeak’ looks like.
“Dirtbeaks?” Harrec snorts. “Dangerous? Not likely.”
I look at Pashov. He shrugs, indicating that it’s my choice. “I wouldn’t mind seeing them,” I say. “Let me finish feeding Pacy, then I can see if Asha can watch him for a bit.”
“I can take him to her while you get your boots and cloak.” Pashov leans in and traces a finger down Pacy’s chubby cheek. His hand is so close, I half-expect him to touch my breast, but he doesn’t. And then, of course, I’m disappointed.
What I wouldn’t give to be groped.
Asha is all too happy to watch my son, and I set off with the two hunters. We are joined by Farli, who is walking her pet, Chompy. She jogs to Pashov’s side and gives her brother an adoring look. He hugs her and rumples her hair, and my mood lightens at the sight of their affection.