Heirot

After how much they'd touched in the last 24 hours, he saw no reason to shy away from something as simple as lifting her. He put one arm behind her and the other swept her up behind the knees, with about the same effort and technique she would use to lift a saddle. He turned and lowered her smoothly onto the horse's back, keeping a hand behind her shoulders to balance her as he let her legs down. But was this okay? "It's not wearing its clothes. How will you hold on?"

Tenara settled onto the back of the horse, making a soft sound to clear her throat. She reached forward and grasped a handful of mane. “She’s gentle enough. If we keep our legs locked, and I hold her hair, and you hold me... I sometimes ride bareback, but, I usually have a bridle.” Come to think of it, they should have probably grabbed a bridle.

"Any of these?" Havi asked as he returned to her side. He was holding a selection of leafy plants, carefully separated between his fingers, which he hoped he hadn't tried yet. The afternoon sun was high in the sky already. Even the horse looked disappointed in him as he showed his haul to her rider. Unfortunately, he hadn't proven to be much of a horticulturist.

Tenara shook her head, smiling. “It’s spindly, with tiny yellow flowers that look almost like buds before bloom,” she said, pinching the fingers of her hand together to show an example of scale. She also began to wonder if “yellow” translated differently for him.

He frowned, absorbing her feedback seriously. "I will find it." He left her side again to peruse the woods near the trail. After a moment, he saw a plant with small shiny yellow berries attached to it in clumps, and spines running up the stem. They matched the size she'd described, so he plucked one and brought it back to her. "Flowers," he proclaimed.

So it was “flowers” that was translating poorly. She laughed softly, shaking her head. She reached out and tapped them with a finger, like ringing tiny bells. “Berries,” she said. “And likely poisonous. Here, I’ll come down and help look. It’s my hand that’s hurt, not my legs.” She shifted as if to slide off the mares back.

"Berries." He dropped the plant and shook off his hand, displeased with his incompetence. He placed his hands on her hips without thinking much of it so she could slide from her mount hands-free.

Tenara’s face burned at the feel of his strong hands on her hips. Why was she like this? Why did she feel this way? They hadn’t been using her magic this morning. She kept her face away from him until the fire cooled, and took the lead rope with her good hand, tugging the horse gently along the path.

After a long while of walking, of listening to the birds, of Havitharon picking the wrong plants—which was still absurdly adorable despite the blinding, burning throb of agony in her hand—Tenara began to wonder if the plant was even indigenous to the area or if it had been an editing error on the publishers part.

She kept her injured hand near her belly. Holding it close to herself did absolutely nothing for the pain, but the desire to have the injury close, where nothing could brush it or bump it by accident, was instinctual.

She glanced to Havitharon, wanting to talk about something other than plants but having no clue what. She thought that was why she read to him, because it filled the empty air and was less likely to offend him. She wanted to ask questions about his home: were the women as tall as him, what color grass did he have, was the sky blue, did he have hobbies other than murdering opponents in a ring to avoid bedding a female. It struck Tenara then that perhaps Havitharon was a virgin. If being with a female was akin to the gallows to him, and he literally fought to avoid it, he had never known the pleasure of another’s touch. Never been kissed. Never made love.

She frowned. It seemed so sad to her until she remembered that she had felt all of those things because of a liar, a monster who sold her away. The desire to replace those bittersweet memories lit like embers in her belly.

She couldn’t very well do such a thing with Havitharon, though. No wonder he seemed so irritated about what her magic did to him against his will. Not only for the fact he hated women and she was a woman, but because he likely had no idea what to do with the thing standing straight as a tower every morning.

Tenara groaned aloud without meaning to, and then straightened. “I’ll check over there,” she said, wandering in the opposite direction.

"Tenara?" Havitharon paused. She was already going the other way, but he'd heard her groan. Was her wound getting worse? Was it poisoning her? It felt like something was gnawing at his gut. Why did she have this effect on him? Because he was her sword?

He shook his head and kept an eye on her to make sure they didn't get too far apart. If she was suffering, he should try harder. Maybe he was looking for something too obvious. The sketch hadn't necessarily been to scale... The plant might be low to the ground, or very small. He walked up to a fallen log that was practically sprouting with underbrush. A three-leaved plant with shiny red stalks made up the majority, but he thought he saw something yellow underneath. He knelt in the brush and burrowed through it with his arms, scanning for flowers.

A small, mossy plant was growing beneath, using the three-leaved plant as an umbrella. It had tiny yellow flowers, fuzzy stalks... "Tenara!" he called.

Tenara led the horse back to Havitharon, tying the creature to a limb sprouting off the log. She knelt next to him, bending to wedge her body near his and peeked at what he’d found.

“I think that’s it!” She patted his back, congratulating him. “Thank you. This will work nicely with the instructions from that book.” She reached beneath the log, having to stretch her hand blindly for it while craning her face the opposite direction, away from the rough, rotting bark.

He nodded through a rush of satisfaction. It was silly to be enthralled by such a simply success, but her praise affected him anyway.

The sound of hooves approaching on the road behind them whisked him back to business. He rose to his feet as three riders came into sight. Two sat straight in their saddles, and the third was hunched forward, huddled in a blanket. They came to a stop as they spotted Havitharon and Tenara.

"Good day," said a man in the front with short, curly hair. "Forgive me... but do you live near here? Our companion's developed a fever, and I'm not sure we can get to town by nightfall."

Tenara stood, dragging the plant with her, root and all. She appraised the three of them, and the urgency on the face of the curly-haired man, pursing her lips. Part of her wanted to send them away, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. “We have a cottage nearby. Do you require medicine?” She glanced at the plant in her hand, wondering if it would boil into a tea and provide any aid there. “I might be able to do something, but I can’t make promises.” She touched Havitharon’s arm and steered him towards the horse. “Follow us. It’s a little ways this way…”

Havitharon made no comment as he walked her back to the horse and lifted her onto its back. He led the horse forward until he'd put a little space between them and the strangers. "Do you know them?" he whispered.

Tenara shook her head. “No,” she whispered, sparing a glance back. She tried to do it so quickly that it seemed as if she were just glancing off at the sound of a bird. “If they want to rob us, they’ll likely wander off soon. We don’t look like we could rub two coppers together, what with me in my under clothes and you in a shirt two sizes too small. We don’t have a saddle or a bridle. Nothing worth stealing now, and nothing back at the cottage. We’ll treat them with kindness and send them on their way.” Kindness, she thought, was the best way to handle most problems.

Havi frowned. There were plenty of ways to prey on someone without robbing them. But he'd been wrong plenty of times since coming to this world. The truth was, he had no idea how to read people here. At some point, he had to rely on her judgment. Besides, he thought, if they did try something, he could fight them.

A half hour later, they came up to the paddock beside the cottage. Havitharon helped her down from her horse while their guests dismounted. The curly-haired man who'd spoken to them earlier came directly to Tenara and bowed, close enough to take her hand. "Thank you for taking the risk to help us. We won't forget this. My name is Thomas. That's my brother Jacob, and the injured one is Blaine.

It was then that Thomas noticed Havitharon's raptor-like focus on him. He met his eyes, absorbing his alien features and gold irises swimming in a sea of black. Thomas backed up instinctively from that gaze. "Uh, does he talk?"