Home > Scarlet (Scarlet #1)(18)

Scarlet (Scarlet #1)(18)
Author: A.C. Gaughen

The cut on my leg already stopped bleeding, but John’s knuckles were torn up and Rob had a slice on his arm. Much were going to have a bright, shining eye the next day; the skin were already closing over. “Sit,” I told Rob, going to our kit to get some bandages and water. When I came back he had taken his shirt off, and it made my mug feel a little hot.

Honestly, it’s not like I’ve ever lied about the fact that Rob’s fair enough to look at. With or without shirts in the mix.

I chewed the skin off my lip while I rubbed the dirt and blood and bits out of the slice with the water, then lifted his arm gentle and tied the torn bits of muslin around the wound. I pressed my hand to the wound when it were done.

“Why do you always do that?” he asked soft.

“What?” I tucked my hands back around myself.

“Put your hand over the wound like that.”

I shrugged. “Habit. Someone told me that hands can heal. I figure if they can kill, it ain’t much of a stretch that they can heal too.”

“Someone tell you that around the same time you got this?” he asked, putting his hand on the scar on my cheek like I had with his arm.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

His hand dropped away. “You did well today. Like a warrior woman,” he told me.

“More like a warrior squirrel,” John threw in. “Hopping and twitching about like that.”

“You saved my life today, you know, Scar,” Much said. His voice were graver than the other two.

I nodded. “We watch each other’s backs.” I didn’t want to fuss about it much more than that. “But we lost the chest. We lost the baubles, the coin, all of it.”

Rob sighed. “It was Lady Luck that put that in our hands in the first place, and she just took it back. It was too much to hope for.”

I looked around. Our stockpile were fair meager. “We won’t make it, Rob. We won’t have enough to pay the taxes, and he’ll string up as many as the gallows will hold.”

Rob looked around too. “We’ll find a way. We have to find a way.”

Later that night, after a cold supper, we all went inside the cave. We kept some mats there for sleeping on, just burlap stuffed with hay and some bits of wool when we could get it. It were dark as pitch in there, and I could hear the boys breathing and the cats scratching around.

“I can still smell the smoke,” Much murmured.

“Me too,” I told him. “Can’t believe they killed Major Oak. What did the tree ever do to them?”

“Several,” John said. “Looked like a few around it caught light too.”

“It were our home,” I said, soft as I could manage. I didn’t know if the others heard.

“She’s a tough old tree,” Rob said, his voice rough and farther away. “She might last.”

“Unlike that guard that tried to grab Scar.” John laughed. “You know, I’ve heard all the sayings about the wrath of women, but whew, Scar, you have a temper.”

The others chuckled.

“Keep it in mind, John Little,” I warned him. I didn’t feel much like chuckling.

He laughed. “I’ll be sure to inform Jenny Percy,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, but this time I heard a small laugh come from Rob’s distant corner. “So she really kissed Scar?”

“Should have seen it, Rob! Scar’s right in the middle of giving her a talking-to, and Jenny lays one on her,” Much crowed.

“So that’s how we shut her up,” John said.

I knew he were fair close to me so I tried to kick him. It took a few attempts, but one finally hit something and I heard him whine, “Ow, Scar!”

“And none of you jumped in to defend—her—her honor?” Rob asked, but it got broken up with laughs.

“The lot of you are stupid blighters,” I snapped. “It ain’t for laughing.”

This made them crack apart with howls. After a day where another home got ripped away from me and the smell of smoke were still wrapped around us, I could play at being fair grumpy—but honestly, it felt better to hear them around me. Their laughing even made me smile a small bit, and it felt like a gift.

We piled up all the blankets we had and turned in for the night. I don’t know what it were; I were used to sleeping outside, which should have been much colder than the cave, but I were shivering cold. The scent of smoke had snuck into everything—the blankets, my hair, my clothes—and it made me feel colder, hollower. I called for the kitten, but even he wouldn’t go near me, like death and sin were hung round my neck. The shivering got worse, until my breath started coming in harsh shudders.

An arm with an extra blanket wrapped around me, dragging me back against John’s chest. I went stiff.

“Easy, Scar. You crying?”

He thought my shakes were for tears? “No,” I snapped, offended.

“Then you’re cold, and I’m warm, so just hold on to me and go to sleep, all right?”

He were warmer than sitting next to a hot fire, and I felt him like a blaze all along my back. His arm wrapped over my arms and held me tight against him. It were passing strange, but I stayed still and warm against him. The shudders began to ease. I felt his breath on my neck, his nose against my head.

“Your hair’s longer than I guessed,” he said.

I killed a man today. It were the first response that bubbled up out of my head, but I didn’t open my yap. I didn’t know what that had to do with my hair or him pressed against me, all warm and alive and very much not dead, but it were all I could think. I couldn’t say it, and it settled down like a rock wall between my head and his, even though his breath were on my neck and his nose were against my head.

I woke up feeling warm, but my head were ringing with alarm. I were still tucked against John, both my arms behind his one like it were some shield, and the light were snaking into the cave. I looked around, trying not to move till I knew what were wrong. I saw Rob, sitting up a few feet away and looking at me, and looking at John, and looking at the way me and John were wrapped together.

He met my eyes, his face grim and his eyes stormy blue black. He didn’t say nothing and stood and walked out of the cave.

I pushed away from John and pulled the blanket around me, cold again but for my cheeks, which were blushing hard. He were walking away fast, and I moved faster to keep up.

“Rob,” I called. “Robin.”

He stopped.

“I just—” I stopped, and he turned to me, his eyes dark and hard. I felt shaky again. “I killed that guard yesterday.”

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