Page 32 of Last Rites

The lumberman rolled his eyes. “I’m not about to waste time and rations on an animal that will be dead in a few hours. Didn’t you say we should kill the godsdamned thing? Why don’t you go ahead and finish it off now, then we can have a bit of peace.”

He pulled his machete free from its tie on his belt and brandished it.

“No!” I yelped, dropping the food I’d been holding to spring toward the caged animal.

Kit retrieved the discarded sweet rolls and straightened as he brushed away invisible dirt. “Find a good patch of grass, Pen,” he told me while leveling a sharp gaze at Anders. “Put Delilah’s crate on top of it. She can have a bite through the floor.”

Anders frowned but gave no protest while Kit and I abandoned our provisions for the cause of moving Delilah’s cage. She settled after that, and Anders sent Isla and Rosie to gather firewood.

“You two head into town,” he instructed Kit and me. “Find a path to the well where we won’t be spotted.”

“And what will you be doing?” Kit inquired, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Anders flashed the machete again, and I groaned. “I’m going to hunt,” he bragged.

“We brought plenty of supplies,” Kit told him. “We’re only out here until tomorrow.”

“All I found was bread and dried vegetables,” Anders whined. “Men need meat. If you’re not opposed, I could butcher Delilah.” He said her name in a mocking tone. “Surely we don’t need the whole body to poison the well.”

“Go find a rabbit or something,” I sneered, then gave a shooing flap of my hands.

Kit and I waited while Anders trotted off, then I gave a noisy huff. “Some people are less human than animals,” I muttered.

Kit looped his arm around me and pulled me in for a quick kiss on my temple. “You’re precious, you know that?”

I shot him a sideways look as we started toward the town and found a narrow bridle path. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I just… I’ve never met anyone like you.”

My eyes narrowed. “You think I’m being silly? About Delilah?”

We were getting closer to the village now. I could smell hearth smoke and the faintly sour tang of manure. The path widened into a road, the trees thinned out, but Kit didn’t let go of my hand.

He stopped walking and turned to face me. “No,” he said, and there wasn’t an ounce of teasing in his voice. “I really don’t. I think you’re being exactly the man I fell in love with.”

The words hit low and warm, and I couldn’t think of anything to say in return, but I knew that no one else could make me smile while walking into a doomed town.

Millfield was as sparsely populated as I’d first surmised. It wasn’t difficult to plan a route by which the five of us could scurry in with Delilah on a lead and heave her over the edge of the old stone well. I lingered too long at the site, using the last bit of daylight to gaze down, down, down into the watery pit.

A lump clogged my throat.

It would be a terrible way to die.

Kit seemed to sense my trepidation and hurried me back to camp before I could ruminate too long on our crime.

We arrived to the campsite in a commotion.

Anders had Rosie and Isla in his sights as he shouted.

“Well, if we don’t find the thing, we’ve come here for nothing!”

Rosie’s worried brown eyes found mine, and her interest signaled Anders to turn. He whirled around, swinging his machete with reckless abandon.

“You!” He leveled the oversized blade at me. “You ran it off, didn’t you?”

I raised my hands in surrender while Kit reached to the dagger at his belt.

“Ran what off?” I asked.