Veiled Eyes

Chapter 12

Balance – noun: an even distribution of weight enabling someone or something to remain upright and steady.

Kael crouched beside the deer, already pulling a smaller, hooked blade from his belt. His movements were quick, practiced—he’d clearly done this more times than I could count. Without hesitation, he began the first cuts, peeling back hide with a precision that made my stomach twist but also commanded respect.

“I’ll gather firewood,” I blurted before I could think about it. I didn’t want to just stand there and watch—I needed to do something, anything, to prove I wasn’t just dead weight.

Before he could argue, I turned and jogged toward a stand of scrubby, wind-bent trees a short distance away. My leg throbbed, but I ignored it, scanning for branches dry enough to catch quickly. I found a few, then more, breaking them over my knee and stacking them under one arm.

The air bit at my cheeks, the wind pulling at my hair as I moved from bush to bush. By the time I returned, my arms were full of wood and my breath was coming in short bursts. Kael looked up from his work, the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes before it was gone.

“Dry,” I said, setting the pile down near him.

He gave a short nod. “Good.” And just like that, no cold dismissal, no insult—just simple acknowledgment. But it was enough to warm me in a way the firewood never could.

The wind was sharper now, needling through my clothes as clouds slid over the sun. Kael had the deer quartered and wrapped in a rough hide bundle he’d pulled from his pack. He tied it off with a length of cord, hoisting it over one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

I bent to gather the last of the firewood into a bundle, binding it with a strip of cloth he’d handed me earlier. Even with the load tucked under my arm, the edges bit into my ribs, and the weight pulled at my sore leg with each shift.

“Careful,” he said, glancing over as I leaned down and gripped the second bundle of wood. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I can handle it,” I muttered, though I loosened the knot.

He didn’t argue, just slung his own smaller bundle of wood across his back, then stepped past me toward the cliffside path. “We move quick. Wind’s shifting—something’ll catch the scent of this before long.”

I fell in behind him, matching my steps to his. The deer’s blood left a faint, dark trail in the dust, one Kael kept casting glances at before scanning the horizon. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring, as if he was smelling the air the way an animal might.

“What is it?” I asked after a moment.

“Nothing… yet,” he replied without looking back. But the way his shoulders stayed tight told me otherwise.

We reached the narrow ledge again, the barren expanse falling away below. My grip on the wood tightened as the wind gusted, tugging at us both. Kael glanced over his shoulder. “Stay close. If you slip, drop the wood first.”

I nodded, my focus narrowing to the steady rhythm of his steps, the crunch of stone beneath our boots, and the weight of what we carried—food, warmth, and maybe, for the first time since I’d left the Haven, a real chance at surviving another night.

We stopped to rest near the mouth of a ravine, the air thick with the scent of dust and stone. Kael knelt to check the strap on his pack, his hair falling into his face.

“You’re quiet,” he said without looking at me.

I shrugged, shifting the weight of the wood in my grip. “Just tired.”

He glanced up then, studying me in that way of his—like he was pulling apart every word I said. “Not tired enough to keep your teeth from chattering.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, even though my jaw ached from trying to keep it still.

His gaze lingered another second before he straightened, closing the distance between us. Without asking, he tugged the wood bundle from my arms, slinging it onto his own pack with the deer meat. “You’ll slow down if your arms go numb,” he said simply.

“I could’ve kept carrying it.”

“Not without freezing your fingers off.”

I pressed my lips together, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of being right. “I told you I’m fine,” I argued.

He gave a short huff of a laugh, low and almost—almost—warm. “You said that last night too.”

It took me a second to realize what he meant. Last night. The cave. The blanket. His arm around me.

“I remember you being bossier then,” I said, arching a brow.

Something flickered at the corner of his mouth—a ghost of a smirk. “You listened, didn’t you?”

I looked away, hiding the small smile tugging at my lips. “Only because I didn’t feel like freezing to death.”

Kael’s eyes shifted past me, his head tilting just slightly, nostrils flaring. In an instant, he went still—that unnatural, predatory stillness I’d begun to recognize, as if the air itself had changed.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Something’s moving,” he murmured, so low I almost missed it beneath the rustle of the wind. “Too far to see. Close enough to smell.”

A shiver crawled up my spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

“Stay close.” His chin jerked toward the ravine’s narrow trail. “We keep moving. Don’t lag.”

His gaze caught mine for a beat too long, something steady in it—calm, certain. The kind of look that said he’d already decided he wouldn’t let whatever was out there get to me. Then he straightened, slinging his pack over one shoulder.

“Come on,” he said—quieter now, the edge in his tone dulled. “It’s not far to the den.” And for the first time, the warning in his voice didn’t send a spike of fear through me. It settled me instead.

He was right—the walk wasn’t nearly as grueling as I’d imagined. The air still bit at my skin, sharp and dry, but the thought of shelter—and maybe the faint trace of warmth I’d heard in his voice—made each step feel a little lighter.

The weight of the deer and firewood shifted with each of his strides, the soft creak of leather straps marking our steady progress through the narrowing trail. Shadows stretched long over the rock walls as the light dimmed, the path ahead dipping into darker bends where sound seemed to travel farther.

I found myself matching his pace without thinking, my gaze drawn now and then to the way he scanned the ridges and shadowed crags ahead—as if he could hear, see, and smell things I couldn’t. And maybe he could. Every so often, his head tilted just so, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing toward some faint sound or scent that never reached me.

The entrance to the tunnel revealed itself almost suddenly—a jagged split in the stone, half-hidden by a tumble of boulders and shadow. Kael shifted his pack higher on his shoulder and angled his body to slip through first, the weight of the deer dragging over the uneven ground with a low, fleshy scrape. The bundle of firewood he’d taken from me knocked softly against his back, yet he moved with a sure-footed ease that made the burden seem lighter than it was.

If I had glanced back just then, past the boulders and into the barren stretch beyond, I might have seen a darker shape melt behind the rocks—a figure pacing our steps at a careful distance. But my focus stayed fixed on the narrow slice of darkness Kael had already disappeared into, and on the promise of warmth and safety waiting somewhere beyond it.

The air inside was instantly cooler, quieter—the wind outside cut off as if a heavy door had slammed shut behind us. Our footsteps softened against the packed earth, the muffled silence settling over us like a second skin.

By the time we reached the den, my legs were screaming, every step sending a throb up through my hips. My shoulders ached from the weight I’d carried, and the fatigue in my muscles made even lowering my pack feel like a small relief.

Kael dropped the deer just inside the mouth of the chamber and stacked the firewood in a neat pile, his movements precise and efficient, as though every action had its place and order.

“You. Sit,” he said, not looking at me. “I’ll get the fire going. Then we eat.”

For the first time since stepping out into the Barren, the thought of warmth and food eased the tight knot in my chest. I lowered myself onto the bedroll, grateful for the give of the furs beneath me, and watched as he worked—hands steady, deliberate—striking sparks into the tinder until the first flames curled to life.

The cold retreated inch by inch, replaced by the crackle of burning wood and the rich, metallic scent of fresh meat waiting to be cooked.