Immediately her actions were halted by firm hands and an even sterner voice. The insistence behind the ton made her brow furrow and an angry line to come to her still cyanotic lips. How dare he? Water dripped down her back and it cooled her burning flesh enough to distract her from her anger. Contrasting blue eyes caught each other and the emotion in his gaze was not one she recognized but one she felt compelled to comply with. Cold fingers released the fabric of her camisole and Madison permitted herself to be lowered back to the damp floor. “Just for a second.” She responded. “Mama will need my help with supper soon.” Warmth pressed itself against her skin as the dogs came back at Remy’s signaling. “I need to help with the prep. I need to make sure to skin the carrots.” Damien released a low whine.
“Hmm?” Madison peered at him through half lidded eyes, settling into the comfort of the blanket and behind flanked by furry beasts. Remy was able to slip the makeshift pillow beneath her head without protest. Mrs. Gallow wiped at her forehead and she turned her head towards the touch. Her mother was always so affectionate when she fell ill. Despite the fact that she could not remember the huntress knew that her mother was tucking her in and preparing her some hare soup. Hare soup was her absolute favorite. The wild mushrooms with bits of gamey meat swirling in a broth of carrots and onion. The familiar smell wafted towards her as she heard it again. Sleep.
Someone asked her a question. It was not her mother’s voice. The crease between her eyebrows deepened as she opened her eyes once more. “Why?” She sniffed, feeling her nose begin run. “You know my name.” Papa always liked to play silly games. A giggle tried to escape through her lips but came out raspy. “At home, dummy.” She said, clenching her eyes closed as little sparks of pain fire in her toes. A harsh breath hissed inward on an inhale, sending her into a short fit of coughing. The burn of her lungs made her hands curl into fists. It goes away if you sleep.
“Dogs?” The question held all the confusion in her addled mind. Dogs. There were dogs. Realization began to creep back into the frozen parts of her memories. “Damien.” She smiled, opening her eyes and meeting Remy’s gaze. It was obvious she recognized him with the soft smile that came to her mouth. The other dog. Cold tendrils clawed their way back into her and she inhaled sharply. And ache grabbed her feet and around her lungs, pressing hard and harder. Sleep. Dogs. Damien and... “Uh...uh...A...” Her voice faltered. “Azalea.” She whispered as the darkness claimed her, just long enough for her to see a flicker of pain cross his face and for Damien to cast a side glance at his sister, Magnolia.
Sleep.
An hour passed and Madison did not stir. Two. Three. Movement within the fourth hour as her hair soaked the blanket beneath her head. She stirred and made a soft moan. In the fifth hour, color came back to her lips and her cheeks took on a pale, rosy hue. During each hour, Remy’s hypothermic patient battled the demons of her mind. She flitted through memories of her parents. The sharp tang of pools of blood from their death day. She slid into the warmth embrace of strong arms from the previous night.
Finally, the seventh hour dawned as night began to fall. Warmth left from the side of her legs as Damien padded over to his water bowl and lapped it up, having been panting from the heat of the fire Remy kept roaring. Sounds began to meet her ears and she shifted, limbs stiff from immobility. Heat was so strong against the left side of her face that she rolled onto her right side. Hazy blue eyes opened and saw Remy sitting there, exhaustion etched on his features and concern in the lines of his face. She opened her mouth to speak but her lips stuck together. Licking them, Madison murmured his name. Memories rushed back in pieces. The crack of ice. The frigid cold of the river. The caress of the ice.
“How long?” The cadence of her voice was off as she hissed out the words. She began to push herself upward, arms shaking at the effort as her thawed muscles protested movement. “Fuck.” She exhaled, the curse soft as she reached up to pull the thread holding her head it a braid. It released her dry hair in curls down her back. “I feel like someone bruised every part of my body.” Testing, she flexed her toes then her ankles. Knees followed, drawing them up to herself at the memory of her near death. The sudden fear clenched her heart, squeezing. Her breath picked up, the quickening making her slightly lightheaded.
Madison slowed her breaths, one at a time until she could wrap her arms around her knees that were still covered by the blanket. It was then that she realized her body was bare and head flared against her neck. Now was not the time for modesty she scolded herself.
“Thank you...” Even if all the events were still a bit jumbled, she knew he had saved her. She knew that the sleep calling her name was death. Remy have pried her from it with his own hands, drawing her back towards life. “What...happened?”
His brow, already creased with worry, furrowed deeper as Madison’s awareness ebbed and flowed. Just when it seemed like she was beginning to recognize her surroundings, recognize him, she succumbed to her delirium once more. The fact that she spoke in coherent sentences should have been reassuring, but he knew how easily a hypothermic patient could take a turn for the worse. Raising her body temperature quickly was the only option, but it posed its own series of risks that required careful monitoring. As her extremities warmed, the vessels would dilate, sending cold blood back to her core that had the potential to drop her temperature again without warning.
“Stay with me,” he murmured to himself, the words like a prayer. “Stay with me.” He reached up again with his sleeve, mopping the melted ice from her damp forehead. The pups watched him with bright, curious eyes, but they remained pressed to Madison’s side as though they sensed their importance in healing their human friend.
As if on cue, she met Remy’s gaze and smiled. Damien. “Yes,” he breathed, doing his best to return her smile through his concern. “Told you you were my star pupil.” His attempt at humor, hearkening back to their shared night, did not reach his eyes. Madison paused after that, eyes fluttering closed once more, and he prompted her to continue before she lost her train of thought. “And his sister’s name is…?”
Azalea.
His breath caught abruptly in his throat, the shock of the name on her lips flashing plainly across his face. Azalea. His sister, who he hadn’t seen since his mother was murdered by rebel soldiers fifteen years ago, presumed dead. His sister, whose fate he had set out to learn after his mentor was killed. And it wasn’t just the distant memory of Azalea that rocked him to his core, it was all of it…his damned lineage, and a terrible history that had left him with scars that weren’t just physical. In that moment, he longed to tell Madison everything. Just as she had been open with him about her family’s cabin, her mother’s voice, her father’s laughter, so too did he wish to confide in the woman he loved about his troubled past.
But he couldn’t. The day Remy escaped Thebes, hungry soldiers on his young heels, he vowed never to reveal his true identity to another living soul…and not just because it put him—and anyone helping him—in danger. The Walther name was steeped in the blood of innocents; it was a dynasty that fed like a parasite on power and fear and control. He resented the tainted blood in his veins, loathed himself for the things his father had done—and the things his father had made him do—and resolved to do no harm to a world he didn’t deserve kindness from. Not even Dr. Sterling, who was the closest thing he’d had to a real father, had known his apprentice’s secret. And Madison couldn’t either.
The huntress fell silent once more. For a moment, Remy didn’t think he could breathe. He watched her chest rise and fall steadily, his fingernails biting into the tender flesh of his palms as he clenched his fists at his side. He needed to do something. So he rose to his feet slowly, the pups’ gazes following him as he strode to the pile of boxes they’d half-opened yesterday. He pulled a couple of stiff towels, woven with impossibly bright, intricate patterns, from a plastic tub toward the back of the room.
He realized he still wore his boots, which left behind a trail of water as he walked. He pulled them off and placed them near the door, replacing his wet socks with a pair of dry ones, then knelt quietly next to Madison to mop up the puddle that had formed at her head. With a featherlight touch, he felt for her pulse once more. Unchanged.
“Stay with me,” he whispered again, “you promised.”
The hours crawled by at an agonizing pace. He fed the fire regularly, pulling the pot of broth to the side of the hearth as not to boil off, keeping the flames at a steady roar. Sweat beaded on his brow. He pulled off his sweater and tossed it aside, then forced himself to drink from his canteen. He couldn’t even think about eating, but he knew he wouldn’t fare well for long if he was dehydrated.
The pups eventually stirred from Madison’s side, padding nervously around Remy’s feet. He fed them using the rations he’d packed earlier that morning, then let them outside through the smallest crack in the door, careful not to let out too much heat. The sun had begun to set, painting the western hills a blaze of orange. He scooped fresh snow into each of their water bowls and placed them in the hot living room, where the mounds quickly melted to water.
Weary with persistent worry, he lowered himself to the floor at her side, resting his chin on clasped hands. Remy wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, watching her, when she suddenly turned to her side to face him, her movements stronger and far more absolute. His storm-blue eyes locked on her face, which was shadowed now as she faced away from the fire. The anxious expression he wore softened.
“It’s nearly sundown,” he said hoarsely, rising to his knees to be at her side. “Shhh…take it easy. Don’t move too fast.” He reached out to place a steady hand on her arm. Her skin felt warmer to the touch, less clammy. “Do you think you can drink a little of this? And some water?” He handed her a cup of warm broth and placed the canteen of water next to her. “We need to get your electrolytes up. Even just a sip.”
He draped the other dry, colorful towel around her bare shoulders. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened,” he went on quietly, voice pained. “I heard Damien barking…and I found you collapsed outside in the snow. You were wet and frozen, and I thought you were…I thought you were going to…” He trailed off, meeting her gaze intensely. “I think you might have fallen through the ice on the river. What do you remember?”
Remy’s warm hand on her arm sent a thrill through her due to its stark temperature. Shaking hands took the cup of broth while Madison attempted to draw steading breaths through her nose. Warmth slid through her with the first long, slow sip. Aching lips felt as though it burned momentarily and she mashed them together between gulps. As it moved through her, she found the hunger begin to gnaw at her stomach. She tilted the cup all the way up and some dribbled down her chin as her hands resumed their trembling. With the back of a shaky hand, she wiped her face and finished off with a mouthful of water. The water splashed in the cup and she paused, the sound tickling a memory in her mind.
Madison’s muscles began to shake then. Shivers racked her body. Molars clattered against each other in her mouth, making her head begin to ache. The dry towel settled over her shoulders and she reached up to pull out around herself and her knees even closer to her chest, as if she could absorb them into her body. She lowered her head onto her knees, turning it to hold his eyes with her own. Anguish reflected in her gaze and she clamped her eyes closed against the thought of the river.
“It is...hard to...I....” As she forced her mind to examine the feats of the morning, her breaths came faster and faster and faster. The air made her lungs burn and stars sparked behind her closed eyelids. Madison’s head grew light ands he felt faint. Panic doesn’t serve. Panic doesn’t serve. Panic doesn’t serve. The huntress forced her breaths to slow and watched as the flickers of light lessened to faint glimmers amongst darkness. “I checked the traps. Not a lot out but I think I got some.” The memory was hazy. She kept getting flashes of his hand against her stomach. Then a sharp image of whining Damien. The sensation of his fingertips in her hair and his mouth against her. A distinct contrast suddenly with the sound of cracking ice and rushing water. “I...” The words caught in her throat.
“I was distracted. I stopped paying attention to Damien.” The Gallow girl’s mind raced as the pieces began to fit together. “He ended up on the ice. It should have been thick enough. It should have held his little weight. It should have...” Each word grew softer as she spoke. Madison opened her crystalline blue eyes and she searched his face for a minute. In his face, she found a moment of solace in his gaze. What she saw there gave her the courage to keep talking. “It started to crack and he was so scared. I went to get him. Remy, how could I not?” Licking her lips, she looked away and towards the pup laying at her side, his tail lightly rapping against her her leg.
“I couldn’t make it back.” Crack. Crack. Crash. Cold rushed over her and she trembled more violently. The memory of the water pulling her down, down, down strangled her efforts to speak. “I fell in and....and...” Madison’s voice constricted, the words falling short. Sleep. The word echoed in her mind as the heat from the fire began to warm her through and her shivering lessened. “I didn’t think...” Remy sat so close and her gaze flickered to his neck and then his arms.
Whether her decisions were blurred by pain or cold or need, Madison dropped the towel from her shoulders. She crawled into his arms, dragging the blanket with her to keep her waist and legs covered. Damien and Magnolia protests softly She laid her back against his chest and tucked her brunette head under his chin. Safety enveloped her and she closed her eyes. “I thought I was going to die, Remy. I couldn’t breathe.” She nestled into him. “I was so afraid. I was going to die and you wouldn’t know that I...” All at once, she was frozen in place again by the words caught in her throat.
“I was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Chastising herself, Madison curled her arms around her middle, fingers digging into the black fabric of her camisole. “I’m glad you found me. It was just so cold...and I just thought if I slept for just a second.” Head shook almost imperceptibly against him. “I would have died without you, roadwalker.” A smile drew her lip up a bit as the insult turned term of affection. Moments of silence passed between them without the awkwardness they may have previously experienced. “We’re probably going to have to wait to leave. I don’t think I could walk yet....not in that cold.” To emphasize her point, the wind howled against the door and windows. It whipped and rattled, begging to be let in. “And I’m so tired and I can’t stop hearing it. The cracking.” Weary eyes closed, her body settling further against him trying to block out the sound in her head.
“Would you tell me something?Anything. To distract me.”
The knot of fear deep in his gut slackened a little as she took the cup of broth from his hands. Her grip, albeit unsteady, was nevertheless strong—an excellent indicator that she had not suffered any loss of sensation in her fingers. She was dexterous, she was conscious and speaking…but Remy feared she was not yet out of the woods. Short of warm intravenous fluids, a resource he knew only from textbooks and only once from practice, there was little else he could do warm her from the inside. Giving her the hot broth, keeping her hydrated, and maintaining the sweltering room temperature was her only chance in the wilderness—and thank the heavens it seemed to be working.
The physician’s throat tightened while she voiced her memories of the deadly river. “It’s okay,” he murmured as she struggled to recount her experience beneath the icy water. His pulse accelerated with a jolt of retrospective fear. Images of Madison, his beautiful Madison, trapped under the frozen surface, battling the cold and the current and fending off certain death, flashed before his mind’s eye with nauseating clarity. Just how close he had truly come to losing her, first to the pull of the river, and then again to hypothermia…it was almost too much to bear.
She shifted positions then, nestling against his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around Madison’s fiercely-trembling form, savoring the feeling of her warming body against his—a stark contrast to the frigid, lifeless young woman he had carried from the clutches of wintry death just that morning. Eyes fluttering closed, he bowed his head low and pressed his cheek to the side of her face, his skin flushed and warm from the blazing fire.
“You weren’t stupid,” he reassured her, his voice low in her ear. “Damien is part of our family.” Our family. The words left his lips as though he’d been speaking them for years, as though it were the most natural phrasing in the world. “You were protecting one of your own. I would have done the same.”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head, planting a soft kiss against her hair. “You’re safe now,” he whispered against the silken brown locks. “You can breathe. You can sleep. And we won’t leave here until you are ready. I don’t care if it takes till summer.” As if in reaction, the winter wind beat against the side of the cabin in a throaty gust. The flames on the hearth roared a reply in scorching defiance.
“It’s probably best if you move as little as possible. We’re still working at getting your core temperature up to normal.” He ran a warm hand down her arm and entwined his fingers through hers, pulling her hand into the shifting firelight. He examined her fingers over her shoulder, softly caressing the digits and pressing lightly on each fingernail. “Your capillary refill has improved,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “Your fingers and toes might feel a little swollen and stiff as they warm up. But there doesn’t seem to be any soft tissue damage. That’s really good.”
Remy gave her shoulders a squeeze, the crackle of the fire filling the silence as he paused. Having lived the life he had, there was no arsenal of positive anecdotes to pull from, and an unhappy tale was not what either of them needed in that moment. “One time, when I was a kid,” he began tentatively; “I was probably eight or nine. Something like that. My sister Azalea…” He faltered for just a beat, then continued. “She was three. She went through this phrase where she copied everything she saw adults do. And I mean everything. Actions, gestures, words.” A small smile curved his lips at the distant memory. “It was usually innocent enough, until one day my mother dropped something—I don’t remember what it was—and said shit. She never swore in front of us, so I was pretty shocked…but Azalea heard a new word, saw how we reacted, and latched on. Over and over, shit, shit, shit, like a song. We tried getting her to stop, but she was the type of kid who did the opposite of whatever she was told.”
He ran his thumb absently over her the back of Madison’s hand. “Every afternoon, my mom would have a mug of tea…usually peppermint, from fresh leaves in the summer and dried ones in the winter. Anyway, one time we got this small jar of sugar. She would put a tiny spoonful in her tea a couple times a week. Thinking back, I know she was trying to stretch it out to make it last longer…it was her one indulgence. Azalea saw this one day and decided she wanted to ‘help,’ so my mom let her stir the sugar in. It became a special ritual for the two of them. We had to stop her from putting non-edible things in her own drinks, of course, but she eventually got the hang of it.
“So this one time, a couple neighboring families were coming over for a harvest dinner. My mother had the table set, and she’d brewed a big pot of tea for the special occasion. She told me to pour the drinks while she went to let the guests know everything was ready, so I did…and then, being an eight-year-old, I got distracted by something else. Meanwhile, Azalea had gotten it in her head that she needed to help too, so she climbed up on the old wooden chairs and started stirring the drinks. Little did I know she had shoveled gobs—seriously, gobs—of salt into each glass, thinking it was the sugar.
“The neighbors come in, we all gather around the table, and then everyone raises their glass in a toast…and god, I’ll never forget the mouth full of hot fucking saltwater that came after. I remember there being lots of coughing, and my mom looking completely horrified and confused. Pretty sure I spit mine out…I’m sure there were a few who politely swallowed it, but dear god, it was bad. My mother was furious. But we all had a laugh. Especially after we made her taste her own concoction.”
He smiled slightly, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes, which had darkened storm-gray with memory. Because the true version of events had not been quite the same as what he told—and the consequences had been dire. The actual series of events had involved a formal luncheon of the commander’s high-ranking officers, some of whom had traveled hundreds of miles from remote military outposts in the northwest. As Commander Walther’s family, he and Azalea had been expected to make an appearance before the soldiers’ conversation turned to business. Remy had snuck into the grand dining hall just as the kitchen staff had finished setting the table and pouring the steaming coffee, hoping to intercept Maria, his favorite cook—a kind older woman who always patted his honey-brown hair and snuck him extra biscuits.
But what he’d witnessed instead was Azalea climbing down unsteadily from one of the chairs, her tiny arms outstretched in an attempt to remain upright as her slippered feet hit the carpet. His heart began to pound, and he rushed to her side.
What did you do? he’d asked calmly, scooping her awkwardly in his own small arms and slipping unseen out of the hall. Did you touch something? What did you do?
What Mama does, she’d replied triumphantly, wiggling out of his arms. Before Remy could figure out what she meant, their mother rounded the corner, smiling warmly. There you are, Azzie, she’d said. Are you ready for Father’s luncheon? They’re going in now. Remember what we talked about. She’d looked to Remy, and in her gaze he’d caught a glimpse of uneasiness—a look he’d been noticing more and more the older he got. He’d swallowed nervously and nodded, following his mother through the wide doors with his chin held high. Just what was expected of the commander general’s perfect son.
And as was tradition, as soon as the dozen officers were settled and the Commander seated at the head of the long table, they raised their teacups in a toast to Northam—and took their sips of coffee, heavily salted courtesy of Azalea.
Remy’s mug had been filled with milk, but his sister had seen to it that his serving had received a spoonful too. He remembered coughing, spitting the drink back into its cup, looking up in helpless horror as the rest of the officers pulled faces and sputtered their disgust.
His father had leapt to his feet, his widened eyes betraying the rage behind his otherwise carefully-guarded stoic expression. Remy knew the man well enough to recognize the subtle signs of his implacable anger. A bolt of terror shot through him, and his whole body had begun to quiver. Azalea, oblivious, watched him with bright, amused blue eyes from their mother’s lap. And then she squealed with laughter, and his piercing stare settled on her.
His mother tapped her lips with her napkin and cleared her throat. “Well, gentlemen,” she said pleasantly, the perfect diplomat, “it appears our little bird here has decided to treat you to her special recipe.”
Despite her careful words and soothing voice, little Remy could sense her alarm. The commander, who still had not spoken, at last drew breath to address the officers. “My daughter’s behavior will be corrected,” he growled without preamble. “Please tell Maria”—he turned to the maid stationed at the side door—“to bring up a fresh pot of coffee. And Zinnia…” The commander spoke his wife’s name with venom. “You and the children are dismissed. Immediately.”
Remy’s feet barely touched the floor as they shuffled swiftly from the room. His mother held Azalea tightly to her chest, murmuring something in her ear that Remy couldn’t make out. It wasn’t long after they returned to the nursery that the doors flew open behind them. The commander hovered in the doorway for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, his gray eyes gleaming with outrage. Remy knew that look. His breath came in quick, panicky bursts, but his feet were glued in place—even as the man strode up to Azalea, still in their mother’s arms.
“Gregoray—” Zinnia began pleadingly, her voice breaking over the syllables. “Gregoray, please—”
He interrupted her with a strike across the cheek. “Put down the child.” He spoke the word with such disdain that every fiber of Remy’s being wanted to flee. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Azalea burst into tears at her mother’s feet and crumpled to the floor. The commander lowered himself to a predatory crouch, studying the small crying girl as though trying to decide the best course of punishment.
“I-it was me.”
The commander’s head snapped to Remy, whose knees nearly buckled beneath the sudden weight of that terrifying glare. “What was that? Speak up, boy.”
His mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, but she said nothing. Speaking now would only make things worse. They all knew that...it had happened before.
“I…I did it. It was me.” Remy’s eyes filled with tears, but they did not spill over. His fingernails bit sharply into the flesh of his palms as he balled his fists at his side. “It wasn’t Azzie.”
Commander Walther rose to his feet and strode to his son in two abrupt paces. He towered above the boy, staring down into his blanched face. And to Remy’s horror, the man smiled. “Admirable,” he commended icily. “But foolish.” He extended a hand, which Remy hesitated to take. The commander general wrapped his strong fingers around Remy’s tiny hand, gently at first, and then iron-tight.
Little Remy had cried out before he could stop himself. It dawned on him all at once just what he had done in confessing to his sister’s “crime”—and his father’s grin broadened as the panic flashed across the boy’s face. He dragged him out of the nursery, grip leaving deep bruises on his small wrist. And as it turned out, those purple marks were the least painful of the consequences that day.
But those weren’t the type of memories he needed to call upon. No, the version he told Madison was far better—anchored in truth, but a picture painted with brighter pigments. What should have been. Not what was.
He wrapped his arms a little tighter around Madison, breathing her in. “How are you feeling, my love?” he asked softly. “Do you think you could drink some more water yet?”
The strength and comfort of his embrace lessened the tremoring, if only from earth-shaking to bone-shattering. The clattering of her teeth against each other dulled and his heat slipped through the fabric of her shirt and into her core. She sighed into him, cradled in his arms. The idea of being anywhere else in this moment was . This is where Madison was meant to be, to spend every spare moment for the rest of her (probably short) life. His words soothed her. They were a family. Remy. Madison. Damien. Magnolia. The four of them against the conniving forces out in Northam that moved unknowingly against them. Our family. The words and the emotion the physician placed within their syllables brought a sheepish smile to her lips.
Electricity followed the trail of his fingertips that he made down her bare arms. Gooseflesh erupted and her hair stood on end, sending a shiver through her that was blessedly unrelated to the hypothermia. Toes wiggled stiffly when mentioned and she made a hum of agreement in her throat. Everything felt tight, like someone has poured concrete into her veins. “I’ll just stay here then, since moving is against the orders of my doctor.” To emphasize her point, Madison nestled into him further if it was possible, leaning her head back slightly against his shoulder to catch his eyes. Chin tilted upward and the sight of his stormy gaze constricted her heartstrings. “To make it easier for you to make routine check-ups on the status of my....capillary refill.” She teased, pausing so she did not stumble over the unfamiliar words. The stretch in her neck muscles began to draw her focus and so she lowered her head back down, easing the strain.
The tale began. The low rumble of his voice against her back soothing the shake of her limbs and slowly they began to subside. The tremors eased as the story progressed, drawn out of her by the magnificent sound emanating from
His lips and movement of his thumb against her skin. “She sounds like my kind of girl.” Madison interrupted, smiling at the thought of a female Remy stomping around, shouting expletives around his little home. She imagined a decent sized house - perhaps two or three bedrooms. The huntress had always been aware that her companion hailed from a higher societal station that she did. He was well-raised and afforded luxuries that she could only dream of. The way he spoke belied his station and the mere fact that he was a physician spoke volumes. Madison had always assumed these small pieces of Remy’s past but remained blissfully unaware of his true lineage.
Each part of the story made her smile wider as she closed her eyes to picture a small Sterling boy drinking saltwater due to his little sisters misunderstanding. A sibling was something that Madison had never even considered as a possibility. The conception of child was such a gift that if town prostitutes became pregnant then the town would assist in the raising of the child until a certain age. The Commander did not care about the quality of life of his subjects, so long as there were enough of them to keep him and his ridiculous supports comfortable. Would her life had been different if she had a sister? A brother? The thought tumbled about in her mind as he finished his tale. At the conclusion, the nearly frozen woman decided that she was glad she didn’t have any siblings. If she did, Remy might never have come into her life.
And that, now, was unthinkable.
Gentle laughter bubbled up out of her until her lungs burned with the effort and she released slow breaths to stop herself. A warm smile remained on her lips. The story was everything that she had longed to hear. There was happiness and laughter and a bit of a scandal. Remy Sterling certainly knew how to weave a beautiful storied tapestry. The tale ended and she found she missed the vibration of his consistent speech against her back. Silence enveloped them, folding around them with an aura that contrasted the bright story Remy told her. Madison’s brow furrowed as she opened her eyes. Something felt abnormal about the feel of him in the moments after the tale’s completion. She opened her mouth to speak but his words came first.
My love.
Madison stiffened, sore muscles tightening almost imperceptibly. His love. He loved her. He loves her. And, oh, how she loved him. The emotion swelled inside of her chest, speeding the beat of her heart. Remy would be able to feel the rapid shift in her pulse as blood pounded in her ears. She played the sound of those words over and over again in her mind at a rapid pace. It push down the honeyed voice beckoning her to sleep. My love replaced the shattering, cracking memory of the ice as it split beneath her feet. How swiftly he could soothe her with two simple words. To love and be loved in return. Swallowing, she barely registered his question.
My love.
Reluctance crept into her muscles at his question. His body was so warm and her shivering had lessened considerably with tight arms holding her. He loved her. The last thing she wanted to consider was drinking water. His term of endearment was not so specific as the three words her mother had last spoken to her but the feeling was infinitely more profound. It burrowed inside of her heart and found its way into a spiritual part of her long thought dead. Questions tumbled about in her mind, racing and slamming into each other. How would she respond to it? Should she even draw attention to it? Perhaps it would just be best to fall into that comfortable, intimate love that required no words at all.
Yet, Madison wanted him to know that she loved him as well. She needed him to know that just looking at him set her heart racing and heat running through her. Their natural affinity for one another was undeniable but traversed deeper than superficial attraction. Their souls met through pain and trials and struggles and found a kinship that no one could tear asunder.
Perhaps she should take him up on his offer of water because her mouth was suddenly, unbearably dry. Licking her cold lips, the huntress used some of her strength to pull forward and away from him. Reluctant to separate herself from his embrace, she resolved to do so anyway. Twisting her tight torso slightly, she met his gaze directly. “My love?” She whispered, her voice hardly audible agaithe roaring of the fire and the howling of the winds outside. Despite the trepidation in her voice, the query was evident. Without breaking from his eyes, she reached for his right hand with her left. She twined their fingers together with an easy motion. His hand was made to fit into hers. The space between them was minute and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck. The distance that separated them vanished and she kissed him as deeply and ardently as she could manage. “My love.” The breath left her between kisses. A declaration following her question. A promise. A vow. The weight of it was crushing and uplifting all within the same moment. The desire to kiss him deeper, to press her skin against his skin flared deep inside of her. Madison wanted to show him how much love she held inside of herself that was just for him. Her body had other plans as a stitch wove itself into her side. She inhaled sharply. Remy’s patient drew herself back with an irritated sigh, while her free hand came to press against her ribs.
Madison turned and rested her back against his chest once more. Contentment spread through her limbs even as she reached for the cup that held the remnants of her earlier water. She brought it to her lips with more effort than she would have liked to admit. Slow gulps resulted in an empty container which she placed down beside them. “I should drink more broth too but I very much do not want to move.” To emphasize her point she drew the hand she still held across her body, keeping them in contact. Madison was anything but frivolous, however, and logic crept in. Minimal movement was decreed by her physician but sustenance was important to repair the damage to her body. With another sigh, she leaned forward and ladled more broth into her empty bowl. It wasn’t as hot as it had been, being directly off the fire, but it still send a shiver up her arms due to the contrast in temperature compared to her skin. Madison assumed her prior position, cradling the bowl in her stiff fingers. Even such a simple task left her tired.
Casually, as though discussing the days catch, Madison said, “I was worried I wouldn’t make it back to you.” A long, steadily sip of soup was taken. “I was worried I wouldn’t get to tell you how I felt.” She took another mouthful of soup and swallowed delicately, letting it warm her internally. “I almost gave up. I would have. If not for you.” Madison drank the warm liquid between each statement until there was nothing remaining in the bowl. Gingerly, shaking hands set it to the floor where Damien and Magnolia swiftly made off with it. Warmed by the broth and the feelings inside of her, Madison turned once more to look at him. “I would be dead without you. I mean that. I would be dead without you, both physically and emotion ally.” The dam holding back all the words cracked with each blink of her eye as she gazed at him. The cracks grew, shattering across the mental barriers until it all rushed out. With it came the fear of rejection, even after all that had transpired between them.
“I love you, Remy, and I am afraid I always will.”
Madison’s soft laughter was like music, its melody made all the more beautiful by what it meant for her health—that she was strong enough to laugh at all—and by the fact that he had nearly lost her forever that terrifying morning. Remy reveled in her gently shaking shoulders, moving now with amusement rather than shivers. He pressed his cheek once more against the side of her head and smiled against her hair. If he could not find happiness in the dark truth of his sugarcoated anecdote, he could at least claim it as a genuine reaction to Madison’s mirth.
But then something shifted in her. The slack in her shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly against his chest, and suddenly the realization of what he’d said, how he’d addressed her—my love—washed over him like a cold wave. He went still as stone, and his cheeks, already flushed from the roaring fire, blushed a markedly deeper crimson beneath his stubble.
Had he gone too far, too fast? For a man with so many secrets, who was accustomed to guarding each syllable for fear of endangering himself, the words had flowed from his tongue as naturally as a habit—unrestrained and open, the simplest of truths laid bare for her to receive. Yet the pang of nervousness that fluttered in his belly contained no trace of regret. In a world as dark and cruel as theirs, where death lurked around each corner and in every shadow, they had stumbled blindly together into a rare beacon of warmth and light. And he no longer felt he could waste another moment without letting her know what she meant to him.
When she turned to face him, his expression was one of soft certainty; his cobalt eyes glinted gold in the firelight, and he squeezed her hand as her fingers entwined with his. Remy reached up to cradle the side of her face with his other hand. “Yes,” he breathed, their faces just inches apart. He pressed his lips to her forehead tenderly. “My love.” And then their mouths met, and a shockwave of heat rocketed through his limbs. He returned the kiss with tentative passion, matching her intensity with care.
His brows knitted with concern when she pulled back and clutched her side. “It’s okay,” he murmured, shifting to allow her to lean once more against his chest. “You’re okay.” He draped one hand over the ribs she had just clutched, applying gentle pressure with his palm to ease the sharp pain. He kept his fingertips hovering at her waist even as she leaned away to ladle more broth into her bowl, as though she might disappear if not tethered by his touch.
His expression shifted as he watched her sip the salty liquid. Her statements were so matter-of-fact between swallows that under any other circumstances, he might have laughed at the absurd delivery. But now…the stresses of the day were catching up to him with each word, the fear and exhaustion and not knowing whether she would live or die. His breath hitched. The image of her face, with its clammy sheen and blue-gray pallor, flashed before his mind’s eye.
He had lost patients before. He’d seen carnage, he’d witnessed war and slaughter, he’d watched life fade from their eyes and held their hands while the last of their strength faded to nothing. But never before had he felt such bone-quaking fear and helplessness as he had that morning, with the woman he loved teetering on the precipice between life and death. He bit his lip, trying to quell the flaring panic, but the swirl of thoughts refused to relent.
“I was…so afraid that I would feel your heart come to a stop, right under my fingers.” His voice broke, and he looked down at his hands, which carried the memory of her thready pulse. “I couldn’t look away. I just…watched. To make sure you were breathing. To make sure you weren’t…” Dead. The word was too painful to voice. “I did everything I could. Everything I knew how to do. But it still might not have been enough, and I kept thinking about how…how I couldn’t lose you.” He averted his gaze, which had gone stormy with emotion, and watched as the flames danced and crackled.
And then she said it. I love you, Remy. And I’m afraid I always will.
His eyes widened and snapped back to her immediately, brow furrowed, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. But the earnest, almost frightened look on her face erased all trace of doubt, and his chest felt as though it might burst with nervous joy.
“Oh, Madison,” he murmured, reaching up to run a curved finger down her cheek. “I have loved you for a long time.” A hand slid back to her hair, fingers tangling in the brunette tresses. “And I will love you for a lifetime more.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft, delicate kiss to her lips. He pulled away just far enough to look into her blue eyes, which shone so bright with life and affection that tears stung his eyes.
Despite himself, he smiled, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. “Thank you for not dying,” he told her, “so that I could tell you that I love you, too.”
The declaration hung between them as if held up by a thread. Madison kept her gaze on his face, even though he had looked away after his confession. His eyes snapped back and locked with hers, surprise dancing amidst the storms of emotion that always swirled there. The caress of his voice as it formed her name sent an elated, anxious shiver through her. Heat raced up her spine and flared across her neck, urging her to look away from him. Remy’s hand twined into her hair and she maintained her position as shock rocked her. She had hoped, she had dreamed, that she might hear him say that to her. It was so much more than she could have even imagined. The nervous knot in her chest eased and she released a tightly held breath. That kiss, so brief, so perfect, was a memory she would cradle in her heart for their lifetimes. Each word he spoke stoked the fire of life inside of her core, urging her to always fight her way back to him. If it was deceptive travelers or brutish soldiers or the icy embrace of death, Madison knew in that singular moment that she’d find her way to him through any storm.
A whole new feeling raced through her, igniting every nerve fiber that had fallen to sleep with cold. It might be a trick of her mind, fueled by the passion of his words or her first second of feeling precisely like her pre-hypothermic self, but she felt alive. The movements she made were agile albeit slower than before. Madison abandoned her blanket and took up residence on his lap. Long, cold fingers tangled into his hair, tilting his neck up. She searched his face and in every inch of his gaze she found what she did not think she had needed anymore. The love reflected there rivaled her own, heating her inside and out. The young huntress did not seem to care (or register) that all she had on were her undergarments. Madison needed this.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, roadwalker.” Madison lowered her mouth to his with a hunger that would please the medical side of Remy’s mind. Energy hummed throughout her body. The taste of her love’s lips was all the sustenance she required. Where there had been near-frozen flesh, now there was scalding skin. Ardently she kissed him, tasting him and exploring every inch of the familiar territory. She lowered them back, leaning over him and supporting her weight with an elbow. Desire ripped through her like the howling wind between the trees outside. It flared across her hips and down her thighs.
Eager hand ran through his tangled hair and down his neck, across his shoulder and stopped above his heart. Her mouth followed the same path on the opposite side and then back. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She breathed it against his jaw, his ear, and then his lips. “Forever, I’ll love you.” Exhaling against him she met his eyes and her hunger gleamed in her gaze.
Last night she had wanted him to take her to bed and asked as much. The feel of it would have been breathtaking, exciting. If he had acquiesced, their union would have been through a haze of heady desire. A tangle of limbs unfamiliar with each other, fumbling to find all the secret spots that would draw hums of pleasure. The idea now sent a whole new torrent of emotions coursing through her veins. To make love to her heart’s one desire. To become so intimate with the one person on the entire, corrupted earth that she loved. To become one body as the broken pieces of their souls mended the other’s. The thoughts made her gasp with need and she drew back. Madison’s breathing labored, with the evidence of having just run miles through thick snow. Sweat glistened on the back of her neck and then her supporting arm began to shake.
A gentle expletive left her lips as she rolled off of him to settle at his side on the unforgiving wooden floor. Her body settled sidelong against his with her head on his chest. Chest heaved as she took full breaths of air. The energy she had melted away and every single digit and limb tingled, softly protesting all the movement. Madison traced absent shapes against his skin as happiness brimmed up in her. The glow of the fire played against his face and the wind died down. Closer to the door, there was the soft clattering of the bowl being batted around by the dogs. The hounds seemed to be set at ease by Madison’s recovery and focused their attentions elsewhere.
“We could never leave here.” She whispered, voicing the thought that she had mulled on even last night. Madison wanted to spend the rest of her life telling him she loved him, wrapped in his arms at night. They’d raise their pups here. And maybe even children. She would teach them to hunt amongst the trees and he’s train them in the lost arts of medicine. They’d hide away in this cabin, so far away from the Commander and his greedy minions. Even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t abandon her mission but it was nice to entertain the idea, just for a moment. “And you could spend all your time nursing me back to health. I feel as though I might need a lot of attention.”
The laughter she released was brief, lungs protesting the movement now. Madison was healing but the expending of so much emotion and desire left her exhausted. As the seconds ticked by her heavy breathing softened and she was able to lightly prop herself up to look at him. “I want to hide away here with you, Remy, I do.” Wistful words drifted into the minimal space between the pair. “But I don’t think I can. It’s not...” A sigh slipped from her slightly swollen lips and her eyes darted away from him momentarily. “It’s not who I am.” She said as a way of apologizing to him even though it was her idea moments before. Madison knew herself too well.
“But if I could stay, would you stay with me?” A shy smile played her lips and she dared to turn it into a devilish smile. It conveyed her feeling but there was an evident undercurrent of fatigue. “We could occupy our time attending educational lectures in reading and anatomical studies.”
Perhaps it was the lingering exhaustion, or the immense flood of relief, or the rush of warmth that blossomed from his chest—but against her hungry lips, Remy could not suppress an ecstatic smile. Having at last given his feelings words, he was seized with such indescribable bliss that anything else to say escaped him completely. Nevertheless, the ardent kisses he pressed to her lips spoke all the volumes he could not voice. The nervous quiver in his fingertips eased as he ran them through her hair, cradled the back of her neck, and traced the length of her spine.
He leaned slowly downward at Madison’s prompt, his palms finding her hips as their mouths connected once again. Her movements were slower than the previous night, and his more measured; for as much as he craved her, hunger raging anew, he knew better than to push her healing body faster than it was ready to go. But her touch, however more delicate, was no less passionate, and her kisses no less intoxicating—fueled now not just by the novel sensations of their bodies together, but by the three profound words they exchanged to the crackle of the fire.
I love you. I love you. I love you. The phrase blurred in his mind until it was no longer three distinct syllables, but rather a feeling whose roots stretched deep into the very core of his being—entwining with his vessels and wrapping around his bones, becoming a part of him he could never extract. She had changed him. She had found a way in, past the heavily-guarded walls of his heart, and now he never wanted her to leave.
“I would stay with you anywhere,” the physician replied, He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she nestled into his side, squeezing her tight against him as her exhausted breathing calmed. As she rested her head against his chest, he became hyperaware of just how quickly his heart was beating behind his ribs. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.” He exhaled a breathy chuckle, which faded as she propped herself up to look at him. The gleam in her eyes was one of determination, which contrasted the apologetic tone of her voice. “You wouldn’t be the Madison I know if you stopped now,” he said quietly, reassuringly. He reached up to tuck a loose strand of brunette hair behind her ear. “There will be more cabins, when it’s all done. There will be more woods and mountains.” He propped himself up on his elbow, moving so their faces were near. “And there will be more lessons. Many, many more lessons…”
He pressed a teasing kiss to her cheek, then shifted to sit upright. The fire sent up a plume of sparks as if in response, and he rose to his feet to add another log to the blaze. Then he offered her his hand. “Come on,” he encouraged. “Let’s get you off this floor.” He tugged her gently to her feet, pulling her against him to steady her shaky legs. “Do you think you can climb the ladder?”
After making sure she got to the loft safely, he finished the preparations for the evening—dogs fed and let outside, canteens filled, two more logs on the fire. He arranged Madison’s coat, boots, gloves, and socks near the hearth to finish drying overnight. When everything else was prepped, he threw a couple of dry clothing options over his shoulder and ascended the ladder, tossing them on the foot of the bed. “I know it’s warm up here, but…in case you’d like a few more layers,” he explained.
He looked down at her in the steady glow of the oil lamp, unable to keep from smiling. “The real question, though,” he said, a suggestive glint in his eyes, “do you remember your vowels?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, a wicked laugh shaking his shoulders. But the humor ebbed quickly, replaced with a look caught between concern and affection. “Thank you for coming back to me,” he murmured. “I want you to know that I will stay with you always. I will fight for you, always. And I will come back to you, always. My love.”
Cold fingers enfolded into his hand and air rushed across her flushed cheeks as he pulled her upward. Her lithe frame collided into his body, borne on unsteady legs. She longed to wrap an arm around his waist and kiss him there until her legs gave out. But that would not be as long as she would have liked. In agreement with her thoughts, left leg buckled slightly and she grabbed his bicep. Hand tightened slightly and she inhaled slowly. Madison forced herself to focus on moving. With his assistance, she was able to climb the ladder over a period of a few minutes.
Arriving at the base of their bed, she crawled upward to the wall and propped a pillow there. Leaning over, she turned on the oil lamp as her companion had the night before. It flared to life. A blanket fell across her lap with a quick jerk of her wrist. She listened to the yips and soft barks of the dogs as he tucked them in for the night. A bit more rustling and then she heard the creaks of the ladder beneath Remy’s feet. Merely at the sound of his ascent, Madison’s heart picked up speed. She bit a small portion of her lowered lip, giddiness sliding through her body at the thought of seeing him. It had been thirty minutes at most and still she could not wait to see him, to talk to him, to touch him. If there was a way to be drunk on love, then she was just that. Lovestruck. Lovedrunk.
Tilting her chin upward, she stared at him. Madison’s cheeks remained rosy, fueled by her inner fire of desire, of love. Fingers itched to reach out and pull him towards her, down, down, down until her resided at her side, on top of her, beneath her. His query did nothing to lessen her need for him. A. E. I .O. U. She flushed again and tossed his pillow at his folded legs. “Don’t tease me.” She chided, softly into the few feet that separated them. He was so far away. An annoying pang prodded her ribs, missing him when he was directly in front of her.
Each sentence pulled her heart further towards him. Each word intertwined their fates, their lives, together forever. Each soft, loving syllable he uttered rendered her incapable of ever setting her eyes on another person with the same emotion in her heart. She was utterly and irrevocably his. For now. For always. She reached out for him, holding her hand into the space between them. When he took it, the huntress used some of her strength to tug him upwards, towards her. Taking his other hand, she positioned his knees on either side of her covered legs. The clothing he brought remained at the bottom of the bed, ignored. She drew him closer, until they were nose to nose. Then, their mouths met and she kissed him, long and slow. Savoring the taste and smell of him, Madison wrapped one hand at the base of his neck.
“I will always find you. I will always come back to you, for you. Always. You are mine, Remy Sterling. You are mine and I am yours.” Madison kissed him again, deeply, hungrily. “My love. My love. My love.” She kissed along his jaw, the short stubble of his beard tickling her cheek. “My heart. My soul. My whole life.” She did not pull away as she murmured the final three words. Elation flooded her veins, invigorating her against the hypothermic threat of the earlier hours. Energy rushed against her heart, speeding her pulse. Faster. Faster. Faster.
Pulling back, she struggled to steady her breathing and with a guiding hand reversed their positions. She settled onto his lap, knees against the mattress and feet pointed back. “And as mine, I will do as I see fit.” A coy smile played her lips as she lifted his shirt over his head by the hem. At one moment, he reached up to touch her and she lowered his hand back down to his side with her own. A smirk as she shook her head slightly, denying him. With slow, silky caresses, she ran her fingers from his collarbone and across his shoulder. Down his arm on one side and following his ribs on the other. Occasionally his muscles would flex and twitch involuntarily and she would smile wider, laughing, kissing him. She spent long minutes exploring him, kissing him, loving him at a pace that fit her current ability. Blue eyes held his with a strong magnetism. Madison kissed along his jaw and came to rest by his ear. “A. E. I. O. U.” She breathed, barely audible, hands dancing across his skin with each exhale of vowel. Remy’s patient taunted him with each breath, with each touch, with each whisper.
“I should stop, I should…” a whisper against his lips. Madison kissed him deeply, tugging briefly at his bottom lip. “But I can’t. I can’t.”
He reached out to grasp her hand, their touch filling the space between them where his murmured words had floated just moments ago. And when she tugged him closer, he gladly complied, straddling her legs over the blanket and allowing himself to be drawn lower and lower until their torsos were nearly pressed together. He propped himself up with a hand on either side of her shoulders, muscles flexing as the physician held his weight to float just a finger’s breadth above her. For a moment, he took her in—her bright blue eyes reflecting the golden lamplight, her skin aglow, her loose hair fanned out behind her on the pillow, her lips slightly parted…
She pulled him in just as the tension—and the temptation—became unbearable. Their mouths met fervently, and Remy breathed in the scent of her as their kiss deepened. Exhilaration set each nerve alight with an electric thrill. The insistent pressure of her hand on his neck, pulling him tighter towards her, told him that she was feeling the same magnetic pull—that against all the world’s odds, they fit together, and they simply could not be close enough.
“Oh, Madison…” he breathed. Her words were exactly what he never knew he needed to hear. After the better part of a lifetime alone, not once did he imagine he could find such sanctuary in another soul. He lifted his chin as her kisses traced his jaw. His pulse thrummed against her lips, and a shiver raced down his spine that had nothing to do with cold. He needed her, but it was not only her body he craved—he needed her love like he needed oxygen; she was his shelter in a storm that never abated, but he no longer minded the thunder or the rain.
“I am yours,” Remy whispered, “always.” Burying his face in her neck, he planted featherlight, teasing kisses against her throat, his lips and breath tickling her skin when he spoke. “And you are mine. Always.”
Her bodily reaction to his touch, his kisses, and his words threw gasoline on the fire that raged in his veins. A gasp escaped him when, in a surprising display of corporeal strength, she abruptly shifted their positions. He moved with her, back pressed to the wall, and flashed her a wanton grin as she landed in his lap. “I am yours to do with as you please,” he purred, biting his lower lip against the renewed surge of desire. He caught her gaze just as she reached for the hem of his thin t-shirt…and suddenly his heart pounded not with passion, but with panic.
Instinctively, he reached up, hoping to divert her attention. But she grasped and lowered his wrist with such insistence that he did not fight the motion…and the wicked smirk she wore on her face made him not want to. Her hands were on his bare chest, tracing the borders of his lean muscles, outlining the silvery scars scattered sporadically across his torso from clavicle to waist. His flesh ached beneath her electric touch, and a hum of pleasure vibrated deep in his throat despite himself. He found his worries dissolving to ash in the blaze of his want—which, on some level, alarmed him. But in Madison’s presence, he was unable to rescue his logic from the tempest of need that raged beneath his skin. He was powerless.
Her slow exploration of his torso was the best kind of torture. When at last she looked up, her eyes were alit with teasing mischief. And as she recited her vowels between kisses along his jaw, he felt his mouth pull into a grin, and a low chuckle shook his shoulders. “Very good,” Remy praised, voice coarse with yearning. “My star pupil proves herself yet again.” With his hands now free to roam, he reached up to rest them on either side of her waist. He tugged her gently forward and towards him until her torso was a gentle pressure against his. “Yes, you should stop,” he affirmed. He ran his hands up and down her back, pressing one more deep kiss against her lips before he sat up straighter and lifted her up, reversing their positions yet again. This time, he lowered her back to the mattress, her head cradled by the pillow, and he settled in at her side.
“You should stop,” he repeated, his eyes glittering devilishly now, “but that doesn’t mean I have to…” Leaning forward, he craned his neck to the side and moved his mouth toward hers—pausing just a hair’s breadth before their lips brushed. With a teasing smirk, he hovered there. “Remember,” he whispered, “you should try and stay as still as possible.”
He moved downward, his fingertips tracing a path from her neck to her abdomen. Delicately, he edged the hem of her camisole upward, exposing her midriff to the lamplight. He caressed the skin there softly, tracing patterns from her sides to her navel, marveling at the soft curve of her waist and the delicate shadows of her ribs. Then he leaned down to plant a kiss against her warm flesh. He hummed in approval and looked up. “Well,” he declared, “it seems we’ve raised your core temperature.” He flashed her a grin before returning to plant another tender kiss on her temple, settling against her side with his head propped up on his arm.
“We should…ah…” He cleared his throat, loathe to douse any of the flames that danced between them, but knowing it was the best for Madison’s strength. “You need to rest if we’re going to leave tomorrow. Doctor’s orders. But trust me, the doctor does not want to order it…” He uttered a groan of frustration at his own instructions, and he collapsed into the pillow next to her, wrinkling his nose. “You know," he said, unable to keep the humor from his expression, "your almost-dying has really turned out to be an inconvenience. For both of us, frankly.”
Every time he whispered her name in that throaty hum of desire, electricity shot through her veins. Once she heard it, her only desire was to find creative, new ways to make him say it, just so she could hear him murmur her name over and over. She would never tire of hearing it fill the little space between their mouths. A deep seeded yearning expanded from her center at his kisses until she had taken her position on top of him. She felt his heart rate speed up faster and faster against her palms and attributed it only to passion, blissfully unaware of the ink marking his shoulder. Their current position kept his secret from her and preserved the evening’s passion. A thrill slithered through her at each and every noise of pleasure that he made at her delicate ministrations.
Madison gasped delightedly when he wrapped his hands at her waist, faint touch brushing the skin between her camisole and bottoms. Relishing in his caress, she found herself on her back. Bright eyes stared into his, taking note of the sly smile on his face. Excitement settled into her stomach and spread a delicious heat across her lips. Yet, it was nothing compared to the sensation his words brought about. The mere idea of not responding to his touch made her squirm and she had to bite her lip to contain her feelings. His name slipped from her lips anyways, more of a moan than a whisper. “Remy.”
Gooseflesh followed his trail and little whimpers of desire escaped her mouth. Heat flared through her and her breathing sped with each kiss, each stroke. The effort tightened her lungs and as she felt a flood of need, so too, did she feel a pang of strain in her chest. A laugh racked her chest at his words but was short-lived. She inhaled slowly, focusing on her breathing. The last effort she could manage was to sneak a kiss from his lips as he settled at her side. “I might have to find myself a new physician, then.” She teased, hearing his groan of irritation that mirrored her own inner frustrations at their current situation.
“My current one seems to leave me more flustered than satisfied at the end of my appointments.” Madison bit her lip and then closed the space between them further, settling partially on her own pillow and partially on his. A lazy smile came to her mouth as she looked at him from the side, examining his profile. Warmed fingers itched to run the sharp angles of his jaw but the best she could manage was to twine her finger with his. Eyes fluttered closed. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Each word grew softer until they jumbled together in an exhausted murmur. The exertions of the day coaxed her toward sleep, but without the malicious lulls of hypothermia.
Dreams eluded Madison that night and for that she was thankful. She slept through the bright flickers of light from the dusty window but final woke with a stretch of her feet. Memories flooded back into her awareness. The crack of ice. The rush of cold. The lure of forever sleep. My love. My love. My love. A tired smile tugged at he corners of her lips, eyes still closed. The huntress began to test her muscles, their agility and their strength with small movements at first. Limbs felt normal, responding to her micromovements. The only thing that felt uncomfortable was the hunger in her belly. Opening on eye first, she turned to look at her companion, who was turned on his side, facing her. The hunger for food was swiftly replaced by a different sort of need. She pushed his upper shoulder back gently, soft fingers persuading him to roll as he awoke. “Good morning, my love.” She murmured against his mouth, stealing a quick, sleepy kiss before sliding off the bed. Madison knew that they could not spend the whole day abed, as much as she wanted nothing more.
Attentions focused on the clothes at the foot of the bed. Remy had selected quite a few pieces that were soft and delicate. She ran her fingers over them, choosing a soft sweater, the fabric unlike anything she had felt. Having chosen a pair of thick leggings, lined with a soft faux fur, and a light blue cashmere sweater, she proceeded with their preparations. There were stolen kisses and gentle caresses throughout the morning, drawing giggles and laughs. Madison, hesitantly, asked Remy to fetch water from the river so she could bathe and retrieve her frozen back from its banks. It was too soon for her to venture there herself. While he was gone, she found a new pair of thick pants, as her now resided as a pile of shreds in the corner.
Madison bathed upon his return and washed her camisole and undergarments, having found a new set in one of the boxes. The colors of them were sharper than anything she had seen. Vivid emerald camisole contrasting with a silky black pair of panties. The material was silky against her skin and she felt guilty for liking the sensation. It was a luxury she should not grow accustomed to, she reminded herself. Long hair cascaded down her back and she sat in front of the fire to finish off the soup they had made, letting her strands dry. Eating until she was blessedly full, she plaited her hair and rearranged her pack. Packing a few books, after checking with Remy that she had complete sets, she added new blankets and other useful items. It was heavier, with the books, but Madison’s desire to learn to read was ingrained now.
Walking down the snow-covered embankment with the pups loping excitedly at their sides, the huntress took a final look over her shoulder at the cabin. She memorized the dirty windows, the interplay of the wood, the snow pressed on the rooftop. Closing her eyes, she recalled the sounds of pleasure he made at her kiss on his hipbone. She played the sound of ‘And I will come back to you, always’ in her mind. Madison made sure to hold them tightly inside her as they moved forward to her goal. Remy called her name and she moved after her family, down the mountain and towards Thebes.
The next two months proceeded in a blur of hunting, walking, training. The dogs grew and grew, hungrier and hungrier. Madison spent hours laying traps and collecting meat for them. Magnolia grew long and lean, taller than her brother and faster. Damon shed his baby fur first and grew stocky. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his master’s hand when she would pet him. He was more attentive than his sister to commands, yet they both learned swiftly. Madison taught them to track prey she had wounded, which made their hunts even more successful. The hunting team they formed was a work in progress. With each passing day, they began to run as a finely tuned machine. So lucrative were their hunts, that their packs grew heavy laden with the pelts.
At night, by the fire, Remy taught her to read and would hold her in his arms. They were not afforded the same time for anatomical studies as they had in the cabin, but it did not prevent fervent kisses and sultry whispers. Never had she considered she would find such a perfect match, the ideal companion to spend her days with. Every second she looked at him, Madison was in awe of the luck that had found its way into her life. She never tired of whispering his name to him, coaxing him to fevered caresses with quick nips and hungry words.
Winter thawed to spring, so much so that Madison shed her thick bear-fur lined coat in favor of the thinner faux fur jacket stolen from their cabin. Birds tweeted in the trees and their descent from the mountains brought the sight of small buds from the underbrush. When possible, she taught him how to use a bow. She rewarded him when he was close to their target and even when he wasn’t. Once she had mastered the basics, she tore through their books with ease. She read them over and over again, memorizing them and quoting her favorite lines to him. Her favorite to whisper into his ear in a quite moment was from The Wicked King. Softly, she’d kiss his earlobe and murmur, Kiss me again. Kiss me until I am sick of it.
Midday, about halfway to Thebes, she stopped and clicked her tongue at the dogs. They stopped and sat, anxiously shifting from paw to paw. Crystalline blue gaze turned to her companion, smiling slightly it cautiously. “There’s a town up ahead.” The matter-of-fact statement softly left her lips. The smell of fire in hearths carried on the wind. “We should stop.” The pack at her back shifted at her words, emphasizing its weight. “We could trade, take some of the Commander’s coin too, for when we get to Thebes. What do you think?” She asked, taking her gloves off as she did so. Agile hands placed them into her pocket and zipped them up. The ring on her finger glinted in the spring sunlight. “We could be married again, trading for our son, James.” Their made-up child from before who they named after her father, when they had last been in a town, was a pleasant memory for her now. If they had a real child, a real son, would they name him James? The thought flickered through her mind and she smiled, lovingly, at him.
Winter gradually melted to spring, and the miles amassed steadily behind them. Though they’d had to leave behind the physical sanctuary of their cabin in the mountains—the one that had saved their lives, whose walls had borne witness to their declarations of love and promises of forever—they honored its memory in every living breath they took and every adoring look they exchanged. They carried their safe havens within each other now; as long as Remy had Madison and Madison had Remy, they were equipped to weather any storm.
And that’s precisely what they did. From sleet and mud, to sun and birdsong, they persevered. The pups grew older and stronger and smarter, taking to their commands with an eagerness that made it difficult to be angry when they decided not to listen. Remy taught Madison to read by firelight, and in turn she patiently instructed him on the use of a bow. They absorbed one another’s knowledge like sponges, each proud of and excited by the other’s expertise. He coached her through basic wound treatment and infection prevention, and she got to practice when he lost his footing on a slope and sliced his forearm on a rock. She taught him how to speak the language of the wilderness, and he learned to lighten his roadwalker footsteps until his paces were nearly as silent as Madison’s own.
Despite the increased danger of nightfall, Remy found himself most looking forward to the sunsets. Sleep came easier with the dogs on guard, and though they still took most nights in shifts, occasionally their slumbers overlapped for a few blissful minutes. In the time they had together around the fire, as the western sky blushed orange and pink through the budding treetops, he found peace and comfort unlike any he had ever known. “I would be at home anywhere I was with you,” he would whisper to her, pulling her close against the evening chill.
Their journey was so gradual that it was almost easy to forget just where they were going, and why. He reveled in the moments when their destination was not top of mind, but he was no fool; the closer they got to Thebes, the more tension he could sense in the air, and the more palpable Madison’s determination became. The capital was a dangerous place for the general’s son, but there was little chance of him being recognized outright. Still, dread weighed leaden in his chest. What would the city look like, more than a decade later? What inevitable cruelties would they witness? And how could he even begin the search for his sister?
But what was perhaps worse was the reality for which he’d been preparing himself since agreeing to Madison’s quest—the possibility of seeing his father again. And knowing that if Madison were unable to follow through, he would be the one burying a bullet in the cruel man’s skull.
The click of Madison’s tongue pulled him from his anxious thoughts, and he halted at her side. The dogs looked up at them curiously, attention shifting to the huntress. Remy matched her smile when he met her bright azure gaze, his stress eased immediately. “The woodsmoke,” he affirmed, giving her a nod. He surveyed their surroundings with a quick sweeping glance, as though she were quizzing him on his tracking lessons. “The birds’ nests are higher and thicker, farther out of reach but built with different material. And there’s less kindling on the ground, where villagers would have gathered it for fires. See, you’re not the only star pupil anymore.”
He reached out to clasp her hand as she took off her gloves, giving it a squeeze. “You’re right. The more prepared we can be for Thebes, the better. We’ll definitely need coin.” He lifted her hand up to his lips, where he planted a soft kiss. “A great idea, Mrs. Sterling,” he said. “Besides, yes, I think our son James could really benefit from selling some pelts.” He offered her his arm. “I think we make a pretty convincing couple, don’t you?”
They began walking once more, arm-in-arm, picking their way across the thaw-softened earth. “You know,” he remarked softly, “we’re not so far from married.” He smiled crookedly and glanced down to her, blue eyes sparkling. “Not a lot of lies left in our cover story.”
Madison’s smile grew wider with each mention of birds and branches. He had, indeed, turned into a very apt pupil. His archery needed the most work but she sensed in his muscles his reluctance to kill anything. Everything that he did endeared him to her further. The way that they moved when setting up camp was fluid, passing items without a word, knowing the others next move without having to say anything.
The gentle weight of his lips on her hand drew her back from her memories of their travels. A shot of heat and a tingle of excitement races up her spine at Mrs. Sterling. Warmth suffused her cheeks, turning them a bright red, even despite the chill of early spring. “I think we might be able to pull the wool over some prying eyes.” Madison bit her lower lip. Another thrill shot through her as they walked arm in arm. They weren’t far from married, that was the truth of it. Their love far outmatched many married couples throughout Northam. Except for one thing. The huntress swallowed hard and was thankful for the midday breeze that helped cool her heating face.
It did not take long for them to descent the hill and enter the town, if it could be called that. Madison has never seen so many buildings in a row with offshoring streets to other homes and structures. Purposefully, she had skirted Atlanta and avoided most settlements. It was for that reason that this small city took her breath away. The sight was marvelous, a testament to the budding central government and restoration of lost businesses and technologies. Once the awe melted away, a pressing sense of anxiety replaced it. Far too many people were walking in the streets. Children were running this way and that, more children than she had ever seen in one place. They were mostly covered in a thin layer of grime but the adults were not. They were dressed in colored clothing - women in skirts of navy and green. Glimmering thread lines the hems of jackets and skirts. Frantic blue eyes searched the crowds and attempted to process all of this information. Unknowingly, she gripped his arm a bit tighter. The fear of so many people constricted her throat and she closed her eyes to ease the panic. She has survived poisoners on the road. She had survived pillagers and rapists. She had survived hypothermia. She could survive this. If only because she had Remy at her side.
The dogs trailed them closely, but their noses sniffed shoes that walked too close and tails wagged excitedly when a child ran by. Madison’s gaze fell on a larger building with the symbol for shop carved in the sign, yet she read the words inscribed beside it. Panic eased as she took pride in being able to read, thanks to her companion’s tutelage. “I’ll sell at the tanner’s shop. So you want to buy at the apothecary?” Madison hadn’t failed to notice, even through her anxiety, that his eyes had settled on a smaller door two down from the shop. She could practically feel his desire to explore what they had in stock. A broad smile painted her lips before she kissed him. “We can meet at the market.” She pointed across the street from their respective stores. Quickly, she took the pelts to sale that he had been carrying and gave him the berries and mushrooms they had foraged for exchange at the apothecary.
Parting company, Damien followed after Madison with an excited little trot at her heels. When the huntress pushed open the swinging door, a little bell chimed above her head. A man appeared behind a counter much further away. The surprise flickered across her face. The walls were covered in fur coats and capes and lined skirts. Their quality was unparalleled, unlike anything she had ever seen.
“What can I do fer ya?” The man asked, wiping tanning solution from his fingers on a dirty rag.
“I’m looking to sell some.” Madison cleared her throat and kept her voice even. People made her uncomfortable.
“It’ll cost extra to kill it but he has quite a fine hide.” He shook his rag at Damienn as Madison made her way to the counter. The comment irritated her immediately and she tightened her jaw.
“He is not for sale.” She snapped, tossing her pack onto the counter. Deft fingers began to unload it. Damien say at her side, eyes to the door. “But these are.” Madison unloaded an array of pelts and Akins, the shopkeepers eyes growing wider.
“We’ve never seen ya ‘round here.”
“Cause I’m not from here.” She continued unloading. “Where’d ya get all ‘em from?”
“Forest.” Madison kept her responded curt but it did not dissuade him.
“Lot for one lil lady.”
Madison’s eyes bore into his as she set the final one on the counter. “I hunt with my husband.” She shouldered her pack again. “And I’m not little.”
The keeper held up his hands and shook his head before beginning to inspect the merchandise. He nodded and frowned at different intervals before making her an offer. Madison’s brows rose. It was a high number from other places she had sold, the highest she had ever been offered in fact, but she also knew that he was undercutting it for the demand. Her look turned skeptical and she sighed, reaching to collect them again. “We’d get over twice as much in Thebes. I’ll just buy cart and take them there.” The man wipes his hands again, a habit more than out of necessity.
“Now now, no need for all that. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” He appeared to consider everything again and offered her a sizable sum. Madison kept her face neutral but inwardly buzzed with excitement.
“Done.” She collected her coin, the pouch heavy. She had never held so much money in her slender hands. Before Remy this amount would have fed and clothed and kept her somewhat comfortable for nearly half her life. The sensation was staggering.
The huntress did spend a few long minutes examining the wares inside the store. There were a pair of calfskin boots that looked about her size and the craftsmanship was exceptional. She traced the rubber like sole and the fur that enclosed the top. The color was a stunning caramel and she longing stared at it, but as she considered it, she thought of Thebes and the money it would require to get close to the Commander. A sigh escaped her and she turned to leave.
Damienn at her heels, Madison made sure to tuck the pouch firmly inside her jacket against her chest. She cast a glance over at the apothetcariuem. She had tarried a while in the store and he was likely waiting for her at the markets entrance. When she arrived the market was connected to the tavern, likely making the production of food much easier. She entered and looked around, clicking her tongue on occasion to keep the dog close. A few patrons cast their skeptical glances at her, as she was clearly overdressed for the warming season. Their unwanted attention made her neck warm but she finally found a familiar face just as Damien smelled his sister.
Remy was seated at the bar of the tavern and appeared to have not been waiting long. The sight of him comforted her instantly and she took a seat at his side. Removing her pack, she placed it between her legs beneath the bar, keeping a firm grip on it. “Find anything useful?” She asked, only to grow immediately distracted from his stormy gaze by a wail from the back of the market. A larger woman in a brown apron and long-sleeved cream dress buried her head into a burly mans chest while two watchmen- dressed men stood before them. Curiosity flickered in her mind but Madison did not get involved in such affairs. Other people’s business was not her business. The barman came over and began to talk without asking what they would like.
“Terrible thing to happen to the Graftons. Losing their only child like that. Just up and gone. Went off in the woods and the watchmen can’t find him. Shame. What a shame. They’re good folks too. Good boss. Gave me a job to tend this portion of their market and tidy up the rooms upstairs. Anywho, that why y’all here? Looking for a room?”
The apothecary’s weathered façade blended seamlessly with the neighboring buildings, but the well-worn path leading to its unassuming doors suggested it was a popular stop for the locals. With Magnolia on his heels, Remy trod that same trampled trail in the dry dirt and pushed through the scuffed wooden door.
He eased the door closed behind him and paused just inside the threshold. Silvery light filtered through the dusty front windowpanes, casting odd shadows across a wraparound front counter and several display shelves in the center of the room. No other patrons browsed the short aisles, whose dusty shelves were only sporadically stocked—certainly not a surprise in a town as remote as this—and the air was eerily silent.
He took a few steps inside, creaking floorboards making his presence known, and Magnolia sat obediently with the soft click of his tongue. Behind the counter, tall built-in bookcases stretched high to the ceiling, each broad shelf sporting metal canisters and meticulously organized glass jars that glittered in the strange light. He scanned the labels curiously. Birch bark. Valerian root. Epsom salt. Crushed peppermint. A typical cast of herbs and supplements.
An apothecary was not a pharmacy, and that was to be expected. Only the largest cities had the resources to support true pharmacies, where higher-grade medical supplies and chemical medications were available thanks to heavily-regulated suppliers. Remy had set foot in one on the outskirts of Thebes only once, not long after Dr. Sterling had taken him under his wing. But he’d visited plenty of small-town apothecaries, and he knew their expertise was not to be dismissed for lack of formal training. Indeed, much ingenuity was born of those desperate to survive.
Apothecaries by trade were just as devoted to healing as any physician. Even in the metropolis, premium inventory was limited, and most drugs were too astronomically expensive for anyone less than an upper-ranking military officer to afford. So apothecaries filled in the gaps, providing what they could for the people of Northam, learning from one generation to the next and training anyone willing to lend them an ear. Remy had picked up his fair share of tricks from places such as the one in which he found himself; this, he hoped, would be no different.
“Hello?” he called when no one responded to his heavy footsteps. He peered over the counter to a doorway obscured by a heavy green curtain. Magnolia stared up at him, bright-eyed, tongue lolling out from the side of her mouth. She perked up her ears just as he heard soft footsteps, and her tail began to thump rhythmically against the floor.
An older woman hovered at the curtain, dressed in a simple blue shift dress with a black apron tied at her slight waist. Her auburn hair, pulled into a tight bun at the crown of her head, was streaked with gray, and she regarded him from a distance with dark, suspicious eyes. “Didna recognize your voice,” she declared cautiously, her tone crisp. She said nothing more, but Remy understood the unspoken message in her glare—there was likely a good reason she was hesitant to address a stranger alone in her shop. Particularly one who looked as wild as he did, his hair long and disheveled, his wintry clothes bulky on his lean form.
“I’m hoping to trade, is all,” he said, slowly lifting his palms in a gesture of goodwill. He rested his fingertips on the edge of the counter and offered a small smile. “I have some—hey! Magnolia, no. Come back here!” The mischievous pup sprang to her paws and slipped under the hinge-top that allowed entry to and from the back, bounding toward the woman with her tail swinging excitedly back and forth. He lunged after her, catching her just before she slipped underneath. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, she’s learning…” he said through gritted teeth, clicking his tongue twice in disapproval. Magnolia lowered her ears and sat once more at his feet.
Remy looked up, expecting the woman to have retreated. Instead, she stepped closer, her severe expression softening at the sight of Magnolia’s floppy ears. “Ain’t seen a good-looking dog like that in a long time,” she said. Magnolia’s tail began to wag again, her guilt from disappointing her master immediately forgotten in the presence of this exciting new human. “’specially not around here. Unless someone’s wearing one, that is.” The woman wrinkled her nose with disdain, then looked to the pup kindly. “May I?”
Remy rose to his feet. “Of course. Her name is Magnolia.”
“After the flower,” the apothecary said knowingly, kneeling down to scratch the pup’s fluffy chest. “The tree bark’s good for—”
“Anti-inflammatory purposes,” Remy filled in. “And a sleep aid.”
The woman paused, brows arching high in surprise.
“I had a little training under a physician,” Remy explained, “before he died.”
“Then you’ll know that magnolia bark is a popular remedy for childhood influenza.”
It was Remy’s turn to look surprised, and then immediately intrigued. “Really? I knew it could be used for asthma, but I didn’t…oh.”
The woman’s smug look stopped him, and she stood. “An honest traveler is rare to come by,” she remarked, not unkindly. “You wouldna have been the first to try and pull wool over my eyes with a story. Although you woulda been the first to try it with a dog, that I can give you.”
“Well, my name is Remy Sterling. I’m passing through town with my wife.” He smiled, hoping the gesture would ease her suspicion and not make him look like a crazy man through his stubble. “There, now we’re not strangers.”
“S’pose you’re right, then. I’m Ursulah.” She rose to her feet. “Now, what can I help you with?”
Remy placed two small sachets of berries before her, then untied the kerchief of mixed mushrooms. “I was hoping to trade,” he said. “Some supplies and medication, if you have it.”
Ursulah’s eyes widened a little. “Some fine lookin’ Brown’s Hornswallow,” she commented, picking one of several cone-shaped, chocolate-colored mushrooms from the pile. “Hard to come by, that. Only grows this big in higher elevations.” She studied him, this time not with wariness but with approval. “I take it you know how valuable it is.”
Remy nodded once. “Closest thing most people have to an antibiotic for septicemia.”
“Worth a hundred times its weight in gold out here in these woods. And these…” She held up a small white mushroom with a broad translucent cap. “Don’t see a lot of Snowcaps this low off the slopes. You were apt to spot them.”
“My wife is an excellent forager,” he remarked, pride shining in his blue eyes. “We make a good team.”
“I’d say so. If you were high enough in the mountains to find these…you’d have to be, to make it down alive after the winter we’ve had.” Ursulah pursed her lips in consideration. “A quick job with the mortar and pestle and you’ve got a mighty fine styptic powder with these. I trust you kept some for yourself, for the journey.”
“Yes.”
“Then I willna feel guilty for the trade.” The apothecary smiled, this time warmly. “Have you a list of what you need?”
Remy nodded and recited his requirements. Items to replenish and stock up—bandages, gauze, pins—as well as a handful of nonstandard needs, worthy of the rare and valuable mushrooms they’d gathered on their trek—two bars of utilitarian soap, a pack of three razor blades, a strong alcohol-based antiseptic distilled by Ursulah herself in the back room, a jar of petrolatum, as well as several wild herb blends; one to stave off nausea, an anti-diarrheal, and a mixed root powder that contained caffeine.
The apothecary packaged the goods efficiently. “Anything else, Dr. Sterling?”
Remy looked up. “Actually,” he said, “do you have any scented soap? I’d like to surprise my wife.”
Ursulah smiled and nodded. “Made with lavender and peppermint essence.” She slipped a small rectangle wrapped in burlap into his bundle of goods, then slid the package across the counter. “It was grand to meet you, Dr. Sterling. Thank you for these. They will save lives.” She knelt down to scratch Magnolia behind the ears. “I wish you and Mrs. Sterling and Magnolia the best.”
Remy thanked her again, then swiftly left the shop with the spritely pup at his side. The air felt thicker as the breeze caressed his face, as though it might rain. “As much as you don’t deserve it,” he muttered to Magnolia, shaking his head to himself with amusement, “I guess I owe you a thanks for that, Mag.”
He entered the market and glanced around for Madison, then took a seat at the tavern bar when he did not yet find her there. It seemed he just sat down when Magnolia leapt to attention, greeting her brother with enthusiasm. Madison approached just behind Damien, her face rosy but triumphant, and Remy couldn’t help but grin.
“Welcome back, my love,” he greeted. “As a matter of fact, yeah, it was a success. Wait until you see…” The physician trailed off, interrupted by the wail of a woman near the back of the tavern. He exchanged a bemused glance with Madison before the barkeep sauntered up.
“A kid’s missing?” Remy asked the fellow, completely ignoring his question about a room. “We just came from the northeast and didn’t find anything amiss…” He looked to Madison, then back to the barman. “Tell us everything you know. Maybe we can help.”
The barkeep looked skeptical. “Look, if the watchmen can’t find ’im, I’m not sure that you two will…” He was silenced by a poisonous look from Madison, as if daring him to continue that particular sentence. Remy almost laughed, but managed to keep his expression neutral. The man flushed under the pressure of both their imploring stares, then continued with reluctance. “Alls I know is, the boy went out back with the food scraps to feed the animals, like he does every morning. And he never came back inside. Found the bucket still full right outside the pen. The pigs was squealin’ about not getting their breakfast, that’s how Mrs. Grafton knew to check.”
Remy turned to Madison. “The dogs might be able to pick up a trail,” he suggested. He lowered his voice then so only she could hear, suddenly aware of how many eyes had shifted to focus mistrustfully on the two of them. “I don’t get the impression these townspeople are very wilderness-savvy. We might be able to help find the kid. Winning their trust might not be the worst idea. What do you think?”
The term of endearment warmed her from her center outward. Remy had spoken those soft two words to her nearly every day since she had fallen into the river and each time, the swell of love grew inside of her. There was not a single thing about him she did not love and admire. The constant raging storm in his eyes. The sweep of his hair across his forehead (now long again). The manner in which he kissed her. The subtle way he’d manage to brush her hand at unnecessary moments. The compassion he showed other people.
The chance to take the man up on a warm room and even warmer meal was lost to the traveling pair when Remy responded to the barkeep. Madison looked at him with irritated surprise and then immediately knew she should not have - this was who he was and it was why she loved him. The physician’s eagerness to help others, in any way that he could, glimmered in his eyes now and the huntress knew that all potential of retiring early for the day was lost to them. She listened idly to the man’s words, well aware of what was being said without needing to listen to it. He was going to volunteer them to go hunt for the boy, of that she was certain. Blue-gray eyes turned to her and she gave him a knowing look. The barkeep wandered off to help a patron that had actually laid coin onto the table.
“You know how I feel about helping strangers, roadwalker.” Madison responded immediately in a low voice that only he would hear. Her innate need to avoid other people proved to be quite difficult to counter. Yet, crystalline eyes searched his face and it softened her in ways she had not thought possible. “And I know how you feel about it.” She added, smiling gently at him but trying to maintain the facade of irritation. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned all thoughts of food for the moment and stood up. Heavy pack was loaded back onto her aching shoulders and she gave a soft click for the dogs to heel. “But you do the talking with the parents.”
Her companion’s face lit up and she smiled broader when his back was turned to her. Remy didn’t need to see just how much he could get away with now. Rolling her eyes at herself, she cursed the day she asked for a reading lesson as Remy introduced them to the Graftons. The innkeeper gave them information while the wife blubbered and sputtered, rubbing swollen eyes. The couple leapt at the chance for assistance, though the watchmen seemed ill at ease by their offer. Eavesdroppers skeptically listened, having placed significant faith in their town’s police force. Their doubt at the pairs abilities was evident, but Madison paid them no heed.
While the parents of the missing child continued to discuss possible places their son might have gone, the huntress wandered towards the back door with Damien on her heels. She kicked it open with the toe of her worn boots and looked about. The slop had been removed and she spied the pigs off to the side of the inn. Curious gaze wandered up the small hill behind and at the rear entrances to the adjacent shoppes. So many individuals had mucked the mud up that she could not distinguish any child’s footprints from those of adults. Even with so many watchman searching though, there should have been one or two if the boy wandered off.
But what if he was carried?
A frown drew itself to her mouth and she hovered on the precipice until Remy joined her. “I think he didn’t walk off.” She murmured, following the trails about. “And no one would have stolen the boy in either of these directions. The only option is up and over the hill, towards the woods, if you want to maintain some sense of secrecy. Could have drugged him.” A shrug lifted her shoulders. “You know he’s likely dead already.” Then huntress admitted, searching her companions face as they set off up the hill. “Those people that like children...”she shifted the pack on her shoulders, uncomfortable with the thought, “don’t usually leave witnesses.” Killing or harming a child under ten was a hangable offense, but that did not stop perverted individuals from their desires.
Cresting the hill that sported bursts of grass as winter thawed, the trees began to thicken. The whisper of animals lurked within in depths, a cooling evening breeze rushing against her flushed cheeks. Madison paused here and there at first, examining broken branches and shuffling through in the dirt at their feet. “Doesn’t look like anyone searched this area.” Brown brows knitted in confusion and she cast a glance down towards the west, along the tree line. Disturbances there were obvious even at such a great distance. “There they did, but not the eastern side.” She gestured dismissively with her long fingers. Magnolia snuffled the ground, moving old twigs about with her nose and drew Madison’s attention back. A large footprint captured in the mud, clear as glass.
“He was carried.” Worried eyes met the doctor’s. Worried not so much for the child. She was too realistic for optimism of that kind, but instead she worried how this would affect Remy himself. “You know what we may find. Do you want me to go ahead alone?”
For how long he had traveled alone since the death of his mentor, and for how many months it had been since he and Madison had run into another human soul, Remy found that his natural ability to interact with others returned to him with fluid ease. It was one skill that had served him well despite the general hostility of the world; he possessed an uncanny talent that allowed him to get along with others and to win their trust, with very little conscious effort on his part.
It made him a good doctor—patients were more open and willing to let him do his work, and he could put them at ease almost without thinking about it. But it was, at its core, the same skill his father possessed, and that knowledge made Remy bristle. The commander, who could charm a starving man from a meal, used his undeniable charisma to lie and manipulate and craft himself whatever persona suited him at the time. He could stand in a pool of blood, crack a saccharine smile, and tell a mother her son’s death was for the good of Northam…and she would smile while he slid the boy’s body from the end of his bayonet.
Remy knew how Madison felt about offering help to strangers, and he could certainly see why. It posed all kinds of risks…as their experience with the malicious band of drifters in the woods had proven last fall. But as averse as the huntress was to agreeing to help other people, Remy was just as adamant to lend a hand whenever it was possible to do so. It was a compulsion he was hard pressed to ignore, engrained in him since his fateful escape from Thebes all those years ago. He was not his father. He would never be his father. And if he had to spend every waking moment of his life making up for the heinous crimes of the commander, he would.
The physician did his best to listen to Mrs. Grafton’s tearful description of her son and where he might have ventured, but he couldn’t ignore the pressing, mistrustful stares of the watchmen that flanked her. Remy met one of their unreadable gazes and held it intensely until the man looked away. Something about their lack of a reaction didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t tell if it truly was just because two strange travelers had just barged into a very sensitive community issue.
He followed Madison out back and joined her at the edge of the yard. Magnolia, sensing new urgency in her human companions, thrust her nose into the mud and began to sniff dutifully at their feet. Remy followed Madison’s hand as she gestured to the footprints and then to the woods, nodding grimly. “Something’s not adding up,” he agreed. “If they haven’t found him by now…yeah, he’s probably dead.”
They picked their way through the forest, the bitter chill on the evening breeze serving as a reminder that they hadn’t quite escaped winter yet. The dogs criss-crossed paths in front of them as they investigated the underbrush, occasionally bumping into each other resulting in playful nips before they parted ways again. Madison being the more skilled tracker of their pair, he followed her lead and instead adopted the role of guard so she could focus on the trail of snapped twigs and upturned earth. But even Remy could spot the obvious disturbances in the bushes ahead compared to the unscathed eastern half of the treeline. “Shit,” he breathed. “Seems pretty fucking weird that a group of trained watchmen would miss an entire search quadrant.”
He gnawed at his lip, the dread in his chest growing heavier as Madison’ uncovered the boot print in the mud. When he met her blue eyes, they were dark with the same foreboding reflected in his. He understood her meaning right away. But his brows met in confusion when she asked if she should go ahead alone. “What? Of course not,” he reached down and took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “If anything, I feel like I should be asking you if you want me to go on alone. You didn’t want to come at all. We both knew this didn’t have a happy ending.” He searched her face and realized that despite her initial reluctance, she wasn’t going to leave his side. Warm appreciation fluttered in his belly, and together they moved forward.
Their footsteps—even Remy’s, thanks to Madison’s training—were no louder than the soft wind whispering through the pines. He reached into his pocket and gripped the cold metal of his pistol, fully prepared to draw it. Whoever was depraved enough to steal a child and haul him through the forest would definitely be armed…and Remy, healing be damned, wouldn’t hesitate to fire.
Magnolia and Damien, having picked up the scent from the footprint, now guided them deeper into the woodland. Madison confirmed their path with other clues, such as changes in the pattern of pine needles underfoot, and a scrap of brown fiber snagged on a fallen branch. The trail seemed endless…until Damien suddenly buried his nose in a pile of leaves and surfaced with something in his mouth.
A small calfskin boot. Child-sized, and stained down one side with dark red blood.
All four of them froze simultaneously. Remy locked eyes with Madison, and for several silent moments, they neither moved nor breathed. Sensing. Listening. And then there it was…the sound of a whimper so faint, he thought he might have imagined it. But the dogs both turned their heads, ears perked, and Remy gave Madison a tight nod.
He drew his pistol out of his pocket and braced it with two hands in front of him, pointing down, creeping toward the source of the sound. A slight movement caught his eye through the brush, and he peered through the dense, bare branches. A young boy, covered in dirt, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, cowered in the nook of a wide oak tree. Remy gestured to Madison, who had spotted him at the same time.
“You should go to him,” he whispered. “I know, I know…” He turned to look at her in the dusk light, anticipating a look of bewilderment. “But you’re a woman. If a man took him and…hurt him…he might not trust me. I’ll watch your back. Okay?”
Their path was long and winding. The effort that the abducting individual went through to hide from the prying ears of the town was almost admirable. The smell of woodsmoke from the tavern was hardly discernible to her distinguishing nose and her frown deepened. Her primary focus was the task at hand, but that did not keep her from appreciating the significant absence of noise Remy made as he traversed the forest. As they walked, she only noticed that she did not notice him. They moved cohesively, in time with each other and tending words nearly unnecessary.
The warmth of his breath on her knuckles warmed up her arm against the faint chill of winter turning spring. Remy was capable but he was a soft center coated in a thin, hard exterior. Madison would never leave him alone in a difficult situation, in one that he may have to make a choice to kill someone. Together. They would always be in this mess together. She sighed into the sensation before righting her shoulders and continuing on this trek.
Damien bounded happily about with his new prize, despite the fact it was covered in drying blood. Madison hissed between her teeth and his joyful scampering abruptly ceased. Magnolia sensed the tension more readily than her brother and froze. Damien dropped the discovered boot with a gentle thud, cocking his head at the inconsistent human whine. His head titled to the other side, large ears listening intently for the signal that he could search it out. Exchanging a concerned glance with Remy, Madison slipped her knife into her left hand. Her right was ready for an array of different possibilities as they both heard the whimper again. Brunette braid whipped around to the other side with the toss of her head. Knees bent and she loosened her shoulders, ready to strike the pedophile as he made his way towards them.
Wary blue gaze searched out the source of the noise and fell upon a huddle child, body drawn in tight as if he could dissolve into himself. Large, frightened eyes peered at them through the branches. Frantically the gaze flicked from Remy to Madison and the dogs. The tremble of his body was evident even at a distance and the boy made a louder, but still muffled, noise of alarm at the sight of the pair. The huntress gave the physician a startled look. How could he expect her to go soothe a child? She had little to no experience interacting with child and generally found them to be troublesome. The reason behind the argument already on his lips was annoyingly logical. Madison’s lips gave an irritated, albeit resigned, twitch.
“You just keep getting me to do all my favorite activities today.” She teased him as her eyes remained watchful of their surroundings. A quick click of her tongue and Damien followed her partway towards the boy. Madison stashed her knife back into its spot at her boot and held out ungloved hands towards the child as she crept closer. She could not tell whether his whimpering was louder due to her proximity or if he was actually increasing its volume. Dark brown eyes were the size of saucers, rimmed with read of excessive tears.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She paused when the boy suddenly jerked back closer to the tree hiding him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Madison’s voice went soft, like coaxing a wounded animal before she would kill it, to ease its fear. “I won’t hurt you like he did.” She moved painstakingly slow, barely two inches forward at a time. She tried to remember the sound of Remy’s voice when he had helped that sick child on the road. Her voice attempted to follow the same cadence that his had, soothing and calm. She longed to turn her head back to look at Remy but feared the boy might dart away the very moment her eyes left his trembling form. “And I won’t let him hurt you again.” There was a bite to her words, a distinct promise of retribution if she ever laid eyes on the immoral individual.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of careful movement, she would be able to touch him if she reached out her hand. The Grafton boy cowered and shook, trembling like a sapling in a winter gust. Madison crouched low, drawing her hands back to herself. “Your ma sent me to find you. She was very upset that she couldn’t find you.” The child peered a swollen eye over his arm at her, cautious. “She wouldn’t stop crying,” the tone of her voice so low that even Remy might not be able to hear her from his distance, “though she hiccups when she cries.” The boy’s head jerked up slightly, narrowed his eyes. “She does, doesn’t she? It would be funny, if she wasn’t so sad.” The boy rubbed at his eyes with his torn shirt sleeve. Madison caught sight of a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, remembering his mother. “I’d like for her to stop hiccuping and crying, wouldn’t you?” He nodded, nearly imperceptibly as she extended her hand. “Yeah, I thought so. I never liked to see my mama cry either. Makes me feel bad right here.” Madison gestured to her heart with her free hand. “So why don’t we go see her, hmm? I think seeing you would make her smile.” Dark eyes searched behind her, having spied Remy. “He’s my friend. He’s a doctor to help with your scrapes, but only after we get to your ma, yeah?” The boy began to unfurl, like a wound up ball of twine. Small, slender hand fell into hers and his touch was icy cold for but a moment.
The boy withdrew with a startled, sudden cry, just as Madison heard a crack crack crack to her left. She whirled, slamming her hand into the boys chest. Her efforts pushed him back against the tree, positioning her lithe body between the hunter and his prey. There was no time to draw her knife and all she saw was the glint of a butcher’s knife coming straight for her.
Remy crouched low amongst the dense bushes, watching as Madison delicately approached the quivering boy. Despite the look of disdain she’d shot him when he suggested it be her to approach, she was handling the tenuous situation with remarkable ease. He made a mental note to compliment her later, perhaps with a side of good-natured teasing—once they were all safe and sound and warm back at the inn.
He could barely make out what the huntress was saying to the boy as she got closer to the tangle of roots at the base of the tree, catching perhaps every other word. But whatever she uttered, it seemed to be working—the child’s posture had unfurled somewhat, and the whimpers that had so interested the dogs had ceased.
Magnolia, having initially followed her brother as they emerged to reveal themselves to the boy, now sat halfway between Madison and Remy, ears alert. It wasn’t the first time he’d been thankful for their canine companions, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The kidnapper had obviously taken great care to conceal his path through the woods, which meant he knew how to maneuver in this environment with stealth. And there was no way of knowing how far away the child had fled, or how he had managed to get away…which meant none of them could predict when, or if, the perpetrator might return. The advice Madison had taught him on their journey echoed through his thoughts. When trekking through strange territory with unknown predators, it was better to be cautious and prepared than frightened and rash. Not much different than the mantra Dr. Sterling had drilled into his head: Fear fuels, panic blinds.
Shifting somewhat, he relinquished his grip on his pistol and instead wrapped his palm around the smooth handle of his knife. With the sun dropping behind the hills, it was getting too dark to aim with any sort of accuracy, and with their short supply of ammunition, it wouldn’t be wise to waste a shot he wasn’t absolutely certain would find its mark. He rose to his feet, glancing at Madison before soundlessly maneuvering around the brambles. With her attention on the boy, she needed his eyes and ears to guard her back. And in this case, now that she’d introduced him to the child as a doctor here to help, that was best done with far less distance between them.
Remy paused when was only a handful of paces from his companion, scanning the shadowy underbrush and listening for anything out of the ordinary. A feeling of unease washed over him. He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps what he was reacting to was not the presence of sound, but rather the absence of it—because an unnerving quiet permeated the cool evening air, a quiet that early spring birdsong should have filled as the sun set. He braced himself, grip tightening on the hilt of his knife, and glanced to the dogs.
Crack. Crack, crack.
Brittle twigs snapped as a shadowed figure launched itself from the underwood. The world seemed to decelerate then—the boy’s wail of panic, Madison throwing herself in front of him, the dogs springing into action, the steely glint of a broad butcher’s blade swinging downward toward Madison’s back…
Remy leapt forward, crashing broadside with the man’s shoulder and knocking him from his deadly trajectory. They fell together into the dried leaves, a momentary tangle of limbs and blades. The man was taller than Remy, and stockier, his legs pinning the physician’s ankle for a moment as he scrambled to stand. An elbow connected roughly to the kidnapper’s chin; another found his gut. And in one lithe motion, swinging it back with a strangled cry, Remy sliced at the predator’s lower calf with his blade and used the man’s reaction to twist himself free. “Madison!” he shouted, rising unsteadily to his feet, “Get the kid out of here and—”
An explosion of pain in his thigh corrupted his words into a bellow of pain. He staggered backward out of reach and dropped to his knees, left hand instinctively pressing against a gaping wound that bled freely at his hip. Hot, sticky blood streamed between his fingers through the torn fabric of his pants, and he looked toward his assailant with rage, bracing to advance on him again. But the perpetrator writhed helplessly on the ground, unable to fully rise; the physician’s knife had calculatedly damaged the tendons connecting leg and foot. The man’s curses and shouts pierced unintelligibly through the ringing in Remy’s ears, and he looked up just in time to see Madison approach, flanked by two growling dogs…
…and then all went silent once more but for the ringing in his ears.
“Madison…are you all right?” Remy rasped, letting his knife fall to the leaves to staunch the bleeding with the pressure of both hands. "I need…can you bring my pack over here?”
The world shifted suddenly, tilted on its axis and the attacker began to fall to the side. No, he was slammed into and carried to the ground by a swift form of multicolored brown and black. Remy. Madison kept her hand firmly planted on the boy’s chest, pinning him to the bark of the tree he had huddled under. Her free left hand drew the small blade she kept tucked in her boot, clutching it tightly. Bright blue eyes turned back to the boy and she moved her hand up, holding his chin firmly but gently. “Look at me.” She said, but the boy’s frantic gaze kept flicking towards the fight occurring just beyond her back.
“Look at me.” She snapped, forcing urgency into her tone. Startled, tear-brimmed eyes met hers and he began to shake. “Cover your eyes and do not move.” The boy complied, shoving his head down into the arm resting on top of his knees. Madison made certain that she utilized the same tone her mother would have - a harsh note to her voice that demanded to be followed strictly. Immediately after the boy’s compliance, a howl of pain erupted behind her (that was thankfully not her companion’s) and then her name from familiar lips. Whirling around, the Gallow girl managed to see a blade plunge deep into Remy’s thigh.
Time slowed, as it had for the physician, when she heard his scream of pain. It was an animalistic noise that Madison knew she never wanted to hear him make again. In what felt like an hour of time, she took in the battlefield before her. Blood spurted onto the grown, along with severed tendons and flesh. It splattered against the dirty, melting snow. The scene was an amalgamation of blood and footprints and cries of anguish.
As crystalline sight fell on the assailant, everything around her darkened. Vision narrowed pointedly, unable to look away from the scrambling man if she tried. There was no one but the attacker, clad in a watchman’s uniform. He had assaulted the boy, stolen him from the kind embrace of his doting parents. He had sought to prevent her from rescuing the child. He had thought to end Remy’s life, not to mention her own. For Madison to be without Remy Sterling was unthinkable. The man that sought to commit such a crime struggled before her and her emotions grew overwhelming.
Anger flared to life inside of her, threatening to consume her entirely. Flames of rage licked their way down her arms, as careful footsteps stalked the retreating form. The man attempted to drag himself backward and away, unable to put even an ounce of weight on his severed leg. Her movements were almost languid as she removed her coat and set it down into a small pile of fresh snow, away from the trail of bright red blood he left in his wake. Delicate fingers drew her Bowie knife from its sheath at her side, where it had resided beneath her jacket. It was over twelve inches long and had mainly been used for skinning game and cutting wood. She slipped her small blade back into her boot sheath. Magnolia and Damien moved at her side, growling, but she clicked her tongue and jerked her chin towards Remy, without tearing her eyes away from her target. They slunk back. Now, Madison was a huntress and this man was her prey.
This kill was hers and hers alone.
The flames inside of her burned so fiercely that in a brief moment of clarity, Madison knew she burned white-hot. She knew Remy was injured off to her side. He would have to wait. Emotion consumed her. Revenge was all she had ever known and all that had fueled her before falling devastatingly in love with the doctor. It was her native state of being and in her anguish it was the state she easily reverted to. This man had unfortunate predilections that caused him to be the object of her roaring vengeance.
Madison arrived at his legs and he sought to kick out and injure her. Almost amused, she merely placed her boot on his good ankle and pressed. Even with the soft snow below, he grunted in pain and began to mutter words of mercy. Yet he still held the knife in his hand, Remy’s blood dripping on to the snow beneath it. The sight brought a surge of renewed anger inside of her chest. A snarl left her lips and she moved her boot from his bruised ankle to his wrist. She allowed all of her weight to rest on it until she heard a definitive snap, followed quickly by a yelp of pain.
Elation slipped through her at the predator’s pained exclamation. Good. She hoped it hurt. The knife fell discarded, useless now, beside his rapidly swelling hand. Swiftly, she grabbed the collar of his coat, twisted her left hand firmly into it and slamming him onto his back roughly. Snow burst up around them, creating an eerie white halo around their bodies. It hovered in the air, curious to see where her actions led them. Honed tip of her blade pressed into the soft flesh where his neck rounded to his jaw. Pressure was kept firmly there,drawing a small well of blood, but no more.
“Don’t waste your words on begging. I have no tolerance for it.” The soft cadence of her voice was almost soothing. “I could kill you for any number of reasons. The boy, forsaking your oath, “she enumerated his transgressions and glanced down at the watchman sigil embroidered on his jacket, “trying to kill me. But just know that it is not for any of those.” The knife twitched slightly in her hand as she adjusted her grip on its bone handle. “You sought to end what is mine and for that you’ve met your end.” Madison murmured.
Thrusting her arm forwards, the blade buried itself into his flesh to the hilt. It sliced through his tongue, through the roof of his mouth, into the neurological center of his body. It came to rest with a soft thunk, its point thudding against the inside of his skull. Remy could have told her all the vital organs and structures it pierced as it went, but none of that mattered so long as it found its home. Just as quickly as she had inserted it, she pulled it back with a fluid motion. Blood spurted out onto his jacket to the same, dying beats of his heart. In the brief moment before he took his final gurgling, blood-choked breath, she thought how pretty his hazel eyes looked as the life slipped out of them.
The rage receded almost immediately, staring down at the lifeless form below her. The angry emotion twisted into a feeling of dread. What would Remy think of her for this? Madison had never felt guilt over such a thing, never a moment’s hesitation. It was necessary, though, and in a way it was almost kind. It would have been a far crueler fate to leave the bastard for the bears and wolves to drag off. But what would he think of her? The sound of her name being called broke her pensive thoughts and she wiped her bloodied blade against the man’s jacket, cleaning it before sheathing it once more.
Quick movement snatched the bag and kneeled at the physician’s side in a manner of seconds. Remy’s blood pooled around his bent knees, running down his pant leg. It soaked through the snow, melting it from all the heat. It poured out of him like an old-time faucet turned all the way open. She took in how his hands shook, trying to maintain pressure. “Fucking fuck.” She hissed between her teeth, rummaging through his pack and findings cloth gauze. Pulling it out, her hands swatted his own away. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
Blue eyes did not meet his slate gaze, knowing her resolve may falter. There is no point in panicking. He was not going to die, but he was going to be very uncomfortable for a while. She packed the gauze slightly into the wound and held it firmly with her hand, searching for a tourniquet with her available fingers. The wound’s depth was not excessive but would require sutures and elevation and taking time off the leg. They would be laid up in the town for a few days at least.
Madison wrapped the tourniquet securely above the laceration, tying it tightly to slow the flow of blood. Remy had taught her about tourniquets, their proper application. It was difficult, this high up on his thigh combined with the fabric thickness of his pants. As she worked, the huntress berated him. “How fucking stupid do you have to be to jump in front of an armed man, a watchman with training - at that? I mean, you could have been seriously injured or killed. Then what would I do with two dogs all on my own? How dare you not think enough ahead to take that into account?” If he was looking for a soothing word, or some comfort, Madison was the wrong one to give it. Deft fingers wrapped more gauze around the packed, over and over until she tied it securely in place. “And don’t even lecture me about my bedside manner. You haven’t taught me that yet.” The tease came out as gently as she could manage.
Finally, she met his stormy eyes. Pain flickered in his gaze that made her heart ache. She reached up a bloodied hand and brushed a few strands of damp hair from his eyes. It was the same gesture that had started a hundred kisses, but this time it was different. “Do you think you can walk?” The tone of her voice grew soft, almost repentant for the barrage of accusations that she threw at him to settle her own nerves. “Good. Wait here. I’ve got to get the boy.” Magnolia and Damien waited impatiently beside Remy.
Madison straightened and used snow between her hands to clean off the blood so it wouldn’t frighten the child. She moved back to him, pleased to see that his head remained firmly hidden in his arm. “Hey.” She didn’t touch him, didn’t want to startle him. “Hey. It’s okay. He’s gone. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Brown head looked up, hesitantly, searching behind her. The tension in his shoulders slacken slightly when he did not see the imposing figure with a knife standing there. “Would you come with me? Let’s get you back to your mama, yeah? I gotta get my friend back pretty quick too. And my puppies will help. They like pets, would you give them some?” The boy sniffled, nodded, trembling with cold.
On their trek back to Remy, she wrapped her coat around the boy, zipping it up until it was like a tunic, down to his knees. She withdrew the purse of money from the clothing she gave to the boy. As trusting as she was of the terrified, small child, Madison wasn’t that trusting. The jacket helped stop the boy’s weather-induced shaking. His foot that only had a sock was held up, sopping wet. Madison sighed, resigned to the fact that she would likely have to carry the boy on one hip and support Remy on her other side. Savings be damned, she was going to spend a pretty coin or two on one of the inn’s best rooms and a steaming bath to soothe her muscles in. And when Remy was feeling up for it, he was going to repay her for all this trouble and she was not in the market for coins either.
Tucking the retrieved money into her bag, Madison shouldered it. The doctor’s pupil packed Remy’s now disorganized backpack up but likely not in the same organized fashion it had been in after the apothecary. The dogs whined here and there, pacing back and forth from one master to another. Damien shoved his nose against her hip and she stroked his head. “Alright roadwalker, let’s get you standing. You’ll have to carry your pack but I can support your weight.”
Signaling to the boy to stay put, her shoulder slipped up under Remy’s and lifted him, delicately. The care she took to raise him in order to place weight on his good leg was evident. Slipping his pack onto his back one arm at a time, Madison made sure he was steady and they walked the few feet back to the boy. She let him rest against the trunk of the closest tree as she secured her bag to her body and lifted the boy up onto her hip. “Hold on tight, little man, okay? We’ll be back with your mom in no time. Will you keep an eye on the dogs for me, make sure they’re following.” Fortunately for her, he was a wraith of a boy and she had carried heavier game than him further than she would move him. She inhaled a cool, steading breath before having Remy wrap his arm around her shoulder. Worried blue eyes cast a glance down at his leg, a small spot of blood beginning to seep through the gauze. It would hold. It would hold.
“Ready?”
The world came back into focus as the initial shock of the injury gave way to the pulse of adrenaline. Remy watched as the man dragged himself across the ground, his wound leaving a trail of crimson blood across the patches of snow and leaflitter. He might even have derived some satisfaction from the sight had his own track not looked so similar; deep red stained the mussed snow of his own stumbled path, and still it continued to flow from the wound as he knelt in the drift.
Gritting his teeth, he reached out to retrieve his discarded knife. He brought the blade to the tear in the fabric of his pants and ripped the hole wider, exposing the full extent of the wound for easier access and closer inspection. It was deep—deep enough to require sutures, but not so deep that it would leave any lasting damage to his muscle. Nevertheless, if he couldn’t get the bleeding sufficiently staunched, he would run the risk of losing too much blood…and miles from town, with night already mostly upon them, that would be a recipe for disaster.
He shrugged off the outer layer of his coat and pressed the sleeve as tightly as he could to the laceration, clamping both hands over the makeshift bandage until Madison could retrieve more fitting supplies from his pack. But right now, she was occupied—and Remy found himself rightfully unable to tear his gaze away from his terrifying companion. She toyed with her prey like a cat might play with a doomed mouse, not only drawing out her attack but also, on the most primal level, reveling in it. It was a side of her which, until now, he had only just glimpsed. Now that it was on full display, he couldn’t help but feel awestruck…and indeed, a little apprehensive.
Silent but for his own ragged breathing, he watched numbly as Madison at last held the tip of her long knife to the man’s throat. She’d dropped her voice too low to make out, except for the last four words that heralded the outcome of the confrontation—you’ve met your end. Remy did not react as she slid the blade cleanly through the tender flesh beneath his jaw. He was neither surprised nor disgusted, as Madison might have feared. Instead, he observed with passive calm…the demeanor of a man who had witnessed his fair share of violence. A huntress knew how to end a life, and a human was simply another breed of animal. Perhaps that’s as simple as it needed to be in a case like this.
“Are you all right?” he asked when Madison approached, although his question fell on deaf ears. A sharp breath hissed through clenched teeth as she cinched the tourniquet around his thigh. “Pack it tight as you can,” he instructed, although once again, she didn’t seem to hear him—and she didn’t seem to need the reminder, anyway. Her nimble hands worked quickly and efficiently even as she reprimanded him, and through the throbbing pain of the injury, the uncomfortable pressure of the tourniquet, and the stress of the whole encounter, Remy felt a spark of anger flare to life.
“Well, would you rather I let him stab you in the back?” he snapped. He closed his eyes against the sting of the bandage she wrapped around his leg. She might not have been one whose natural first instinct was to offer comfort, but neither was he a demure patient ready to catch grief for defending the woman he loved. He reached down to adjust the placement of the knot she’d tied, sliding it so it could stick out from the tear in his pants. “Thanks. And…sorry,” he said, tone shifting to one that betrayed his pain rather than concealed it. “This just…really fucking hurts.” He closed his eyes against the soft brush of her fingers against his forehead. “I should be able to walk.”
But even as Madison helped him stand, his limbs were shaky. Pain shot down his leg and up into his hip as the wounded muscle flexed. Shit. He could walk, but it was not going to be pleasant…or swift. After shrugging his bloodstained coat back over his shoulders and hoisting his pack to his back with a wince, they were ready to make their journey back to the inn.
They fell into a rhythm that was steady, if not fast, as they picked their way through the darkening forest. Magnolia trotted behind them, weaving a serpentine path in their wake; Damien, nose to the ground, similarly snaked in front. After what felt like an eternity but was perhaps only an hour, they broke free from the underbrush and onto the trail of packed earth that led directly to town. Remy sighed with relief. Blood had soaked through Madison’s dressing and ran in hot rivulets over his knee, and what was worse, he was beginning to feel lightheaded.
The dark streets were practically deserted as they approached the inn, which glowed bright gold from inside like a beacon. The raucous din of the tavern, far more crowded now than it had been earlier, lapsed into sudden silence when they burst through the doors. They must have been quite the sight—two large, mud-coated dogs; Remy, wild-eyed and covered in blood; Madison, loose hair a disheveled halo around her face; and a sleeping child bundled up in her arms. The exhausted Grafton boy stirred from his slumber and cried out in recognition, thrashing against Madison’s grip until she placed his stocking-feet on the floor.
“Mama!?” he screamed, rushing toward the kitchen doors. “Mama!”
Mrs. Grafton’s wail of relief sliced through the quiet as easily as Madison’s knife had slipped through the kidnapper’s throat. She materialized at the doors and swept the sobbing boy into her arms, her own cries—punctuated, as before, with hiccups—drowned out by the applause of townspeople. Remy braced himself against the wall and let his pack slide to his feet. He sought Madison’s gaze, which he held for only a second before the boy tugged Mrs. Grafton over to them, pointing shyly at Madison and then, after a moment’s hesitation, at Remy.
“Y-you brought my boy back to me,” she coughed, words breaking as she spoke. “I don’t—I don’t know how to th-thank you…”
She wrapped Madison in a sudden embrace. Had Remy not been wounded, he might have laughed at this—instead, he managed a smile and wiped his forehead, which had broken into a clammy sweat. It was his turn after she pulled away, but the innkeeper halted when she turned to him. “You’re h-hurt!” she stammered, blanching at the sight of the crimson-stained bandage.
“I’m a doctor,” he said, doing his best to sound convincing. “I just need…do you have a room open for my wife and I tonight? I need to…I need to change the dressing.” He reached out to Madison and gripped her arm with urgency.
“Our finest room!” the woman crowed. “It’s yours as long as you need. As long as you want. You can live in it if you want to…it’s the least I can do for…for saving my…” Tears sprang to her eyes once more and spilled down her ruddy cheeks. She fished a ring of skeleton keys from her apron and thrust a shiny brass key into Madison’s hands. “Upstairs, first door on the left. I’ll have Reggie bring you some hot tea, and anything…anything you want from the kitchens. Anything.”
Remy picked up his pack and squeezed Madison’s arm again as if to say, Now. Thankfully, she got the message, and they excused themselves with the promise they would return with the full story in the morning. He leaned heavily on his companion, dimly aware of the patrons’ curious eyes on them as they ascended the stairs.
The room spun as they entered it, and he collapsed onto the edge of the bed just as darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He knew the wound itself was severe, but it would not normally have been this serious; its location on his upper thigh, however, meant it had been jostled anew with each step he’d taken to get back to the village, never given the proper chance to clot. That, combined with the exertion of the journey, had obviously contributed to a higher rate of bleeding…the consequences of which he was beginning to feel acutely.
“The snowcaps,” he rasped, gesturing to his pack. He lowered himself backwards, staring at the ceiling until the blackness retreated. “The little white mushrooms…they’ll stop the bleeding. If you can crush them into a powder…they should crumble…easily…in your hands.” He lifted himself slowly up onto his elbow, testing the waters before he sat up fully again. A grimace contorted his features as he tugged at the knot in the saturated bandage, which gave way easily. “Mix the powder with the antiseptic...and don't be shy with either one. I'd hate to...die of an infection...and leave you with two dogs and all.”
