Meriwa watched Walker walk away, up the stairs and out of her sight. He didn’t look back at her once, and she could tell from the tense way he held his shoulders that he was pissed. She could smell the wood smoke on him, charcoal and salt.
He was sad too, under the anger.
It must have been a rough night, with the funerals and whatever else had happened. She still wasn’t sure about that, but from how drawn and pale he was, it couldn’t be good. Meriwa had to fight the urge to chase him down and explain that she hadn’t meant to make things more difficult for him; she’d only wanted to check on her plants.
It sounded so selfish when she thought about it like that.
She’d made things harder and, once again, he’d stuck his neck out of her. If he wanted to talk later, then she could shelve
