Rhyode was sitting on the other side of a fresh fire, tending to a pot he’d hung from a makeshift frame. The horses grazed nearby, as though they’d been there all along. Most of the day had passed. The shadows were long on the grass.She was grateful that he had pulled her from that water, and glad he’d defeated the elf-woman who had attacked them both. Zhira wet her lips and found them cracked and peeling.
Sore, like all the rest of her. She felt bruised from head to toe, as though her skin was the only thing holding her bones and muscles in place. Shuffling away from the tree she’d been lying under, Zhira edged closer to the merry flames that danced in greeting. She pulled the blanket tighter around her clothes. Rhyode was watching her. Eventually she found her courage and met his gaze.
