Page 38 of Moonless

She puts her good hand over the pad, and the cloth she was holding slides down to her elbow. Her breast is bare beside my wrist, heavy and soft, with the nipple drawn tight in the morning air. I had it in my mouth last night, and I look at it for longer than any knot needs.

I pass the wrapping behind her back, lifting her hair clear with the backs of my claws.

She’s looking directly at me when I straighten.

She saw where I was looking.

I check the knot and get up for her breakfast.

The pot’s warm. I filled it from the inner pool while she slept, and the meat’s had time to soften. I bring her a bowl, then wait while she works her arm back into the shirt.

She catches the sleeve with her good hand before I can help. “I’ve got it.”

I set the food where she can reach it.

Her leather foot wraps lie dry on the hearthstone, and she looks at them over the rim of the bowl. “Are we going out early today?”

I let a long breath out through my nose and lift the empty water pot.

She tips the bowl toward the wraps. “There’s no reason to wait until it’s nearly dark.”

“There won’t be an outing.”

She lowers the bowl onto her knees. “Tonight?”

“Any night.”

“Because I ran.”

I carry the pot into the inner passage. Water trickles from the pool’s narrow outlet, barely audible under her voice behind me.

“That’s petty.”

So it’s petty.

She’s still sitting with the bowl on her knees when I bring the pot back. I set it beside the hearth and go to the outer passage.

The slab’s seated where I put it last night. I press against its edge, then run one claw down the seam. Beyond the bend, her spoon scrapes the bowl.

I left this stone standing open.

From the entrance, anyone could’ve followed the passage into the living chamber. The other opening was in plain sight beyond the hearth. I went down the slope after her and never went back for it.

I put my palm flat against it now, pushing until grit falls beneath the lower edge. It can’t go farther.

When I return, she’s reaching for the water jug.

I take it and fill her cup.

“That was within reach.”

I put the cup into her right hand. “Drink.”

She takes a mouthful.

I leave after she’s eaten, drawing the slab closed behind me. At the mouth, I stop beside the flat stone where she sat yesterday.

The pebble lies a short way down the slope, caught in a crack in the rock. Her scent’s on it. I lift it between two claws, turning the smooth side toward the light.