“Me too. Um …”
He waited, but she didn’t finish her sentence. “How can I help?”
§
Help? All he’d done was help her.
And she’d repaid him by dragging him out of his bed, so he could sit here, freezing in the dark.
“Lovina, what can I do?” He spoke gently, as if she was a precious vase that might shatter.
She wasn’t precious. Already broken, she was far beyond healing. She’d never be whole again—no matter how gently he spoke or how tenderly he applied his healing herbs. Tomaaz, with the future shining in his eyes, could never put the shards of her life back together. The Lovina she’d been would never be there again. Although she was free, the fragments Zens and Bill had left her in were worthless, best crunched underfoot.
“Would you accompany me out back?” She coughed, embarrassed. She should go on her own; her legs weren’t broken, only her arm.
A quiet chuckle escaped him. “Of course. Just let me grab some warmer clothes.” He pulled on the heavy cloak he’d worn when he’d gone outside for more wood.
She got out of bed, and he passed her a jerkin, which she put on, leaving her arm out of the sleeve. He draped another cloak around her.
“No!” she whispered, shrugging it off. “That’s your father’s.”
“He won’t mind,” Tomaaz whispered in the dark, pulling the cloak around her again, and tugging the hood over her hair. “He’ll be happier if you use it than if I let you get sick.”
Bill would’ve beaten her if she’d ever worn his cloak.
The coarse wool enveloped Lovina, an unfamiliar but comforting embrace.
“We might need these too.” He grabbed his sword and a couple of blankets and guided her past his father’s rumbling snores to the door.
The two of them slipped outside into the snow, tugging the door shut behind them. The chill wind was like an open-handed slap to Lovina’s face. She pulled the hood closer against the swirling snow.
“This way,” he said, taking her around the back of the cabin to the outhouse.
Thankfully, he was here. The air was so thick with snow, she probably would’ve gotten lost if she’d tried this on her own.
“Careful.” He took her uninjured arm, guiding her over a solid lump in the snow—maybe a log. Everything was indecipherable in this land of dark and murky white.
It was a relief to finally get there and know someone was watching outside, and that she’d still be dry when she got back into bed—a luxury after sleeping on stone and dirt floors for years.
Once she was done, they started back, Tomaaz wrapping an extra blanket around her.
What were those shadows? They reminded her of—
“Tharuks!” he whispered, close to her ear.
§
Tomaaz’s hand flew to his sword. Through dark flurries of snow, three or four shadowy figures were creeping up to the cabin door. The unmistakable odor of tharuk blew toward them. He couldn’t attack. He had to get Lovina to safety. His arm tightened around her shoulders and he drew her away, toward the trees. Pa was still sleeping, but he couldn’t go back for Pa. He’d made that mistake in Lush Valley. He could warn him, though. “Can you run?” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, and they dashed away from the cabin. Tomaaz’s boot hit a snow-covered stone. He lifted it and hurled it back at the cabin. It thunked on the roof.
Tharuks snarled, loud enough to wake the dead. Now, Pa had warning.
Tomaaz and Lovina raced off, snarls echoing through the trees behind them. At least one tharuk was following them. Thank the Egg, the wind was in their favor. The snow would erase their tracks, but the cold could kill them. Deeper into the trees they ran, zigzagging and leaping logs. Snow was falling in thick clumps. A roar penetrated the dark, but Tomaaz kept going, pulling Lovina after him by her good arm. She must be in agony, but, injured, she was no match for a tharuk.
They plowed on.
Dark shapes loomed ahead. Tomaaz slowed, placing a cautionary hand on Lovina’s arm as they approached. The shapes turned out to be boulders.
“You shelter here while I get the tharuk,” he whispered, leaving her under an overhang.
Lovina gave a mute nod.
Tomaaz doubled back and hid behind a broad tree. In the eddying snow and blasting wind, it was hard to make out the beast until it was near. Its head was down, snout to the trail.
Tomaaz waited until the beast had passed and, with the snow muffling his footfalls, struck from behind, jamming his sword into the back of the tharuk’s knee. The tharuk didn’t go down. It whirled, kicking snow in Tomaaz’s face, and slashed at his torso. Tomaaz struck it on the hand, then went for a low strike, aiming at the soft tissue of the beast’s belly. His blade bounced off armor. Avoiding the tharuk’s claws, he lunged, driving his sword up into its throat, and the tharuk dropped, face first, in the snow.
The wind picked up, snow churning around him so he could hardly see, but finally he made it back to the boulders. Lovina passed him the blankets and he tied them around their shoulders. They were scant cover in a storm like this. Walking, he led Lovina, his other hand outstretched to prevent them from bumping into trees—or tharuks. What if there were more?
Lovina, stumbled, yanking his arm, and went down.
Tomaaz knelt beside her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head vigorously. “J-just t-tired.” Her teeth were chattering, body wracked with shivers, and her hands were icy.
Tomaaz held them, easing her to her feet. “There’s a cave around here somewhere, where the dragons are sheltering.” He had to find them, so they could help Pa. “Handel and Liesar can breathe fire to warm us
