The cold water was taking his breath, and making his teeth chatter. He waded back to the bank and dried off with his tunic.
Gathering up his armor and weapons, he trudged to where his tent should be. Simus sighed. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to be the one watching the wyverns, or aiding in the healing. But Hanstau had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back at Hanstau’s tent until after sunrise. Well after sunrise. And his team had things well under control.
He shouldn’t have yelled at her.
Simus stopped, and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the knots. Wishing he could take back words he’d yelled in his fury. He hadn’t seen Snowfall since they’d thundered up to Hanstau’s camp, willing hands reaching for a half-conscious Wild Winds. She had gone with him. Simus had stormed off to see to his warriors, dead and alive. His anger had worn off as he’d worked.
He closed his eyes, and admitted to himself that it hadn’t been anger. It had been fear. His fear that she’d be hurt, injured, killed, or worse. What if she’d needed mercy at his hand from the deadly sting? Even now the image rose in his mind and made his stomach churn.
He opened his eyes, and continued walking, filled with regret, running over what he might have said. Should have said.
His small, one-man tent was where Elois said it would be.
Snowfall was standing next to it.
His breath caught at the sight.
Her grey eyes were steady, and cool, but she showed her uncertainty when she lifted her chin before she spoke. “I thought we might combine our tents,” she said.
“Yes,” Simus said, suddenly tongue-tied.
Elois appeared then, with a pitcher of kavage, gurt, and dried meat. “We can see to the tents,” she said to Snowfall. “Go and wash.”
Snowfall nodded, and stepped past Simus to head down the path. He caught a whiff of her scent as she brushed against him, and watched as the curls of her black hair gleamed in the light.
“A hand, Warlord?” Elois was kneeling beside his tent, a slight smile on her face.
“Of course,” Simus said, setting his armor and weapons to one side.
A matter of moments, and the tents were combined. Small enough to sit in, but not so high as to draw attention.
Elois stood, brushing off her knees. “I’ll bed down now,” she said. “Hanstau is insisting that everyone sleep. Tsor is posting watches for both land and sky.” She gave him a side glance. “Try to get some rest, Warlord.”
She disappeared just as Snowfall emerged from the bushes, carrying her armor and weapons. Simus watched as she approached, naked, water glistening on her shoulder tattoos.
“Kavage?” he managed to say with a mouth dry with desire.
“No,” Snowfall said. “You.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Simus resisted the urge to reach for her. He just held open the tent, and let her slide in first, handing her their sleeping pallets and climbing in behind. They worked together to pile up the gurtle pads, and spread out the bedding. It was a bit awkward physically, and they bumped elbows more than once moving around each other. But having her close, working together—that was comfortable, and easy, and arousing all at the same time.
And when her elbow ended up in his eye for the third time, Simus felt his heart ease, and even sing a bit at the look of amusement in her eyes. Such a small thing. Such a great comfort.
They left the tent flap open, for light and air. Simus might have preferred to sleep under the open skies, but the idea of a tent over his head this night was a good one.
He let Snowfall have the pick of which side, and once she had her weapons arranged to her satisfaction, he set out his armor, sword and dagger within easy reach. Snowfall gathered up the kavage and food bowls, and urged him to take a mug. All in a silence that he felt no need to fill.
She drank as well, studying him over the rim of her mug.
“Gurt?” she asked as they both finished the kavage.
“Later,” he said.
She set aside the bowls, and when she turned backed, he reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, stroking it with his thumb. Her skin was warm and silky against his skin.
She closed her eyes, and tilted her head into his hand.