Page 39 of Moonless

It rattled behind my heels, and I looked for feet farther down the slope while hers were still beside me. A pebble.

I set it back among the stones and turn toward the pines.

The first low branches are wet with dew. Farther down, under the thicker canopy, the needles are dry. I cut the springy tips and carry them uphill, stopping at the sheltered bank for dry grass. By the time I reach the entrance, the bundle spreads wider than my shoulders. The old bedding was fine.

She lifts her head when the pine tips brush through the bend.

“Lose a fight with a tree?”

“Get up.”

“Nothing? You usually object.”

She can have that one.

I lower the bundle beside the pallet.

“I need to lift the bedding.”

She gets to her feet slowly, keeping her left arm close, and I fold the old furs back.

She prods a bough with her foot. “What’s wrong with the bed?”

“Damp.”

“It’s been here for days.”

So it has.

I bring a folded hide and a clean fur from my stores and spread them over the new bedding.

She bends to catch the far edge.

“Leave it.”

Her hand stops above the fur. “I can pull a blanket.”

I reach past her and straighten it myself.

“It’s my right hand. The good one.”

“You’ll brace with the other.”

She sits, pressing her good palm into the new fur. The pine scent rises when the boughs shift beneath her.

She breathes in, and I stay crouched until she moves her hand.

Damp.

She points past my ear. “You’ve got needles on your back.”

I reach over my shoulder.

“Lower.”

I brush them out of the pelt and collect the old bedding.

When I pass her again, she has the cup in her right hand. I look at the bandage above her collar.