“We need shelter,” Penryn told him, her voice strangely firm. “Proper shelter. I think we are both agreed on that. If someone is at home, perhaps they will not mind visitors. And if they are not, then I would prefer a door between us and whatever is out there.” She made a vague gesture in the direction they had come, and it was difficult to argue her reasoning, except for the voices of his instructors ringing through his mind. There was no one. No one at all. Dangers, yes, beasts aplenty, but not people.
Not homes. And that was what this was, when they were close enough for the light to catch its corners.
Or it had been.
Construction like he had never known, the dwelling placed upon the ground. The corners themselves were in curves, creating an almost circular appearance, the roof a shaggy mix of some sort of mud and the grasses that seemed to never end.
There was no light emanating from inside, but Penryn raised her hand and gave a lone knock to the doorframe. “Hello?” she called, not too loudly lest she draw attention from some unwanted foe, but enough that a person might have heard inside.
There was no answer, and with a steadying breath, she laid a hand on the door itself, the wood yielding easily to her gentle push.
They were not immediately accosted by a disturbed occupant, and he supposed he should be grateful for that. As well as for a door that still latched to keep out the nightly creatures tending to their hunts.
One glance even with only the lantern light made it clear that the dwelling had not been lived in for a great while, dust and cobwebs clinging to the corners and what little furniture remained. There was a cot to one side, a sheet still tucked neatly as a covering, large enough for two.
Penryn could sleep there if she chose to do so, but he did not want to imagine what sort of insects had made this their home in the interim.
There was a table and a low three legged stool, but little else by way of furniture. What interested him more was the fireplace set to the rightmost wall. They needed to eat, and a good fire would help boost their haggard spirits.
Penryn was off to the side investigating a strange metal fixture beside a cabinet that had been bolted to the wall. A large basin stood on top of it, and he wondered why the previous inhabitants had not taken such a fine piece with them when they departed.
Unless they hadn’t.
And had been killed instead, and no other had been willing to make use of their hut.
There was a bundle of kindling and logs neatly kept to the side of the fireplace, suggesting that this had been a home once looked after. Some was deteriorating as if had been sitting there so long that it simply could hold itself together no longer, but it would hold a flame long enough to warm the chill from the bones of the house. He knelt before the open space and built up the beginnings of a fire, and he hoped the flue was open lest he fill the space with smoke rather than the heat he desired—not merely for himself, but for her.
She looked so weary standing there, uncertain of what to do with herself now that they were within two walls rather than the open camps they had grown used to.
“You may use the bed, if you like,” Grimult suggested, wondering if he should caution her against it, but thinking she might find the risk worthwhile. There would be salves if any small insects took to biting, but it was possible they had died away long ago.
She blinked, as if she had not quite realised it was even there, a small frown coming to her lips as she walked closer to investigate, placing the lantern upon the table as she did so. It looked so... ordinary, sitting there. Much like his own table at home, although much more intricate in the ironwork than the plain one his family could afford.
They had little water to spare for a wash, and it was with new determination that he would see them back on their course the following day. They had need of water, and soon. It was not dire, not yet, but they could not continue as they were with so little, not without feeling the effects before long.
He glanced over his shoulder at Penryn and to his surprise she made a fist and brought it down sharply on the cot. The light was too dim to see, but he could well imagine the plume of dust that would have escaped at the movement. He should offer to take it outside and beat it, although he grimaced to think of the sword-master learning of how he had chosen to use such a fine instrument.
“Well,” Penryn declared primly, standing upright and evidently finished with her assessment. “It cannot possibly make the bedroll any dirtier than actually being on the ground.”
That was true enough, and he found himself nodding absently in agreement.
“But what about you?” she asked, her voice a little thinner than it had been. “You are exhausted too.” He opened his mouth, ready to reassure her that he was still capable of doing whatever was necessary, but she held up her hand. “Please do not try to deny it. You are a person too, Grim, and you are allowed to be tired.”
The name fell easily from her lips, and for some reason it did not disgruntle him the way it had when his fellow initiates had used it.
It was strangely... pleasing. Speaking of a familiarity that should not have been there but had managed to grow regardless.
“Grim,” he repeated to himself, wondering if he
