Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [7]
A rock slipped beneath me and I fell into a hole of deeper water. I reached out blindly even as my head went under. My arms and legs ached with weariness. I really was about to drown, whether I wanted to or not.
Someone grasped my wrists, hard.
That firm grip was enough for me to find solid footing and break through the surface once more. I clambered, splashing onto the bank, gulping air. Behind me the river murmured quietly, just a river, nothing more.
“Liza.”
I looked up. “Matthew.” His hair was coming loose, and a dead maple leaf had gotten caught in it.
“You nearly drowned.” Matthew's voice shook. Sweat trickled down his face in spite of the chilly air. “Are you all right?”
Kate must have sent him after me. She ought to have known better than to send anyone. I stood, shivering. Tallow had moved out of range of my splashing. She licked the mud from her fur.
Twilight cast shadows on Matthew's pale face. He ran his hand over his hair, found the leaf, and drew it free. “I brought you food,” he said as he threw the leaf into the water. “Dry clothes. Flint and steel for a fire.”
“No.” My teeth chattered. My feet were ice, my fingertips tingling. “You need—to go. To get—away— from me.”
“Liza.” Matthew's voice was low but firm, a little like his grandmother's. “I'm going to gather wood for a fire. You'll feel better once you're warm. Okay?”
Nothing could make this okay, but Matthew reached into the backpack beside him, pulled out a blanket, and draped it over my shoulders. Next he drew out a clay jug filled with oil and used a spark from his flint to light the wick within. I drew closer to that small circle of light.
Matthew took out a torch next, lit it from the lamp, and slung a nylon bag for gathering wood over his shoulder. He left me the lamp and retreated into the forest, his torch flickering among the trees. The night shifted from gray to black, and the moon rose as he searched the ground for dead wood.
Didn't he know better than to gather firewood alone at night? Didn't he know better than to risk his life for a magic-cursed girl?
But maybe Kate hadn't told him about my magic. I'd have to tell him as soon as he returned. Matthew didn't deserve to suffer from whatever harm my magic might bring.
Matthew gripped the branch he used to stir the fire. By the orange firelight, I could see his fear, the fear Father taught me always to hide. It showed in the hunch of his shoulders and the way the branch trembled in his hand. Between us embers cracked and popped, the green at the heart of even fallen wood slow to burn. Tallow was curled beside the fire, asleep. At the edges of the path, branches bent away from the flames, fearing their heat. I scanned the dark leaves for tree shadows but saw none.
Something howled in the night. The cat opened her eyes and raised one ear. Wild dogs, I thought. Trees and their shadows weren't the only danger here.
Matthew lifted a metal mug from the fire, holding it carefully by the leather-wrapped handle. “Here. You need to get something warm into you.”
Wearing dry clothes, wrapped in Matthew's blanket, I'd finally stopped shivering. Steam rose from the mug, the scent of mint and lemon balm mixing with that of smoke and wet wool. Some night creature screamed and fell silent in a flurry of leaves. The wild dogs howled again, a little closer. Matthew set the mug down at my feet and poked the fire with his branch. Sparks leaped into the air, turned to ash, and softly fell. Matthew looked at me as if unsure whether to speak.
I looked away. “You need to go,” I said.
Matthew laughed uneasily. “And venture out alone into the dark? What would your father say?” I think he meant it as a joke, but I saw nothing funny about it. A moth flew toward the fire and through the flames. It flew out again with the veins in its gray wings glowing orange. Moths were drawn to light and always took some away with them when they found it.
I stood and pulled the blanket around me like a cloak, ignoring the pain that stiffened my back. “Cast out