Chapter 9: The Cabin in the Rain

I left Torin standing at the barrier with his shaking hands, and I did not look at Margo again.

She had looked at me, though, all the way back to the car.

Kurt drove us out onto the hunting road, the long way round to the moot, because every road to Harrow Ridge had a warden on it now.

The storm caught us two hours before the cabin.

Rain came down so hard the wipers gave up.

Kurt pulled into a clearing where a low log hut sat under the pines.

We ran for the door and were both soaked by the time he got it open.

There was a woodstove, a bunk with a wool blanket, and a shelf of tinned beans.

Kurt lit the fire without a word and I stood dripping on the floor, shaking.

"Take the blanket," he said. "Get out of the coat."

"You first."

"I'm not the one who knelt in sleet for a night."

I looked at him across the fire.

He crouched at the stove with his wet shirt stuck to his shoulders.

My mouth went dry.

"Kurt."

"Mm."

"Ask me."

He turned his head.

"Ask me about her," I said. "Nobody has."

He sat down on the floor and didn't move toward me.

"Tell me about the pup," he said.

I'd never spoken of her to anyone but a stone and a cold sky.

"She was fourteen weeks," I said. "I named her the day Dessa showed me the scan."

"I was going to tell Torin at the Gathering."

"I had a blanket knitted. It's still in the house."

My voice went out of control, so I stopped.

He said nothing and didn't tell me it would be all right.

He held out one hand, palm up, on his knee.

I crossed the floor and took it.

"Dessa cleared me," I said. "Yesterday. I'm all right. Don't treat me like I'll break."

"I wasn't going to."

"The pack is one thing, the bed is another," I said.

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