She opened her eyes the next afternoon and scurried away from him, pressing her back against the opposite wall. Her legs snapped together beneath the blanket.
Perry smirked. “You’ve been passed out two days and you’re worried about that now?” He shook his head. “Relax, Dweller. Last thing you bring to mind.”
She examined the dark granite walls. Then the steel cases of supplies stacked to one side. When she looked at the dwindling fire, she followed the thread of smoke toward the mouth of the cave.
“Yeah,” Perry said. “That’s the way out. But you’re not leaving yet.”
She turned to him, her gaze catching on his Markings. “What do you want from me, Savage?”
“Is that what you call us?”
“You’re murderers. Diseased. Cannibals.” She flung the words at him like curses. “I’ve heard the stories.”
Perry crossed his arms. She lived under a rock. What did she know about anything? “Guess we’re well-named, Mole.”
She watched him with a look of disgust. Then she touched her throat with a skitty hand. “I need water. Is there water?”
He took his leather waterskin from his satchel and held it up.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Water.”
“It looks like an animal.”
“It used to be.” The pouch protecting the bottle inside was made of goat hide.
“It looks filthy,” she said.
Perry unstopped the cork and drank deeply. “Tastes fine.” He shook it so the water sloshed around. “Lose your thirst?”
The girl snatched it from his hand, darted back to her spot. She shut her eyes and drank. When she was done, he raised a hand. “Keep it.” No way he’d drink from it now.
“Why were you out in the open?” he asked.
“Why should I tell you?”
“I saved your life. Twice, by my count.”
She sat forward. “You’re wrong! I’m here because of you. Guess who they think let you in?”
That surprised him. He shifted his back on the cool rock, wondering what had happened after he’d left her that night. It didn’t matter. He’d done what he could. Now there was only Talon to think of.
Perry slid his knife from the sheath at his hip. He checked the edge of the blade with his thumb, turning it so it caught the firelight. “I don’t have time to waste, Mole. Don’t think it would take much to make you talk.”
“You don’t scare me with that.”
Perry inhaled deeply. Her lie was acrid and sharp, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. She wasn’t scared. She was terrified.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Your scent.”
Her lower lip quivered. “You drink from a rabbit and you think I smell?”
Perry knew what was coming when she started laughing. He caught the shift in the air like the drag of a dark tide. She wouldn’t be laughing for long.
He went outside and sat on a smooth boulder. It was a gray dusk, pulling a cold night in its wake. He sat and breathed and tried not to imagine Talon sobbing for his home like the girl in the cave.
Chapter 13
ARIA
To calm herself, Aria tried to pretend it was a Realm. A Paleolithic Realm. She was in a cave, after all. With a fire, which she avoided looking at for the memories it brought of Ag 6. But there were also steel cases to one side. And the navy blue blanket around her was made of fleece. And the glass jars lined up near the fire had metal screw-top lids. Too many things that broke the Stone Age illusion.
This was real.
Aria stood and winced at the pain in the soles of her feet. She pulled the blanket around her and listened for the Savage. Only the piercing rhythm of her headache broke the silence. Had she been infected with disease? Would she die in this cave, wrapped in this blue fleece blanket? She drew a few slow breaths. Thinking like that wouldn’t do any good.
There were supplies by the Outsider’s leather bag, but she wasn’t going to touch any of his things. She hobbled to the steel crates. Broken pieces of plastic and glass mixed with bottles of medicine. They were useless to her now. All the expiration dates reached back more than three hundred years, to the time of the Unity, when the Aether had forced people into Pods. She found one sterile bandage that had yellowed with time, but it would serve.
Aria drew up the blanket and gasped. Her feet were already bandaged. The Savage had tended to her feet.
He’d touched her.
She gripped the edge of the case, steadying herself. This was a good sign. If he’d tended to her feet, then he couldn’t mean her harm. Could he? The logic was sound, but just thinking of him brought a fresh wave of fear.
He was a beast. Immense. Muscular, but not like Soren. The Savage reminded her of the Equestrian Realms, how every movement in a horse showed a chorus of lean muscles rolling and shifting beneath skin. He had tattoos, just like in the stories. Two patterned bands around each bicep. When he’d turned his back, she’d seen another design on his skin, some sort of hawk with wings spanning shoulder to shoulder. His hair looked like it had never seen a brush. Snarled blond ropes, all uneven in length and color, coiling in every direction. As he’d spoken, she could’ve sworn she’d glimpsed teeth that were slightly too canine. But nothing was more hideous than his eyes.
Aria was accustomed to eyes of all colors. There were fads in the Realms. Purple had been the popular color just last month. The Savage’s eyes were bright green but also reflective, like the eerie gaze of a nocturnal animal. And she realized with a shudder, they were real.