By mid-morning, the mountains were fully in view, towering high and stark against the gentle hills we’d left behind. Torrin paused, shielding his eyes with his hand as he surveyed the path ahead. “We’ll reach the settlement by nightfall if we keep a steady pace. We’ll need warmer clothes and better supplies before we push any farther.”
I nodded, focusing on what Lyra and Evan needed for the journey. Their thin cloaks and patched boots were clearly ill-suited for the challenges ahead. Torrin’s gaze followed mine, and he frowned.
“We’ll get them what they need,” he said firmly. “Blankets, clothes, and bags for their gear.”
Lyra bristled. “We don’t need charity. We’ve managed this far.”
“You’ve managed because we’ve been in the lowlands,” Torrin shot back. “It’ll be freezing up there, and I’m not dragging your half-frozen bodies up a mountain because you’re too proud to accept help.”
Lyra’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue further. Evan looked between us, his expression torn, before muttering quietly, “Thank you.”
I placed a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “It’s not charity,” I said softly. “It’s survival. We’re a team, remember? We take care of each other.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine. But I’ll pay you back when I can.”
Torrin gave a short nod, his stoic expression showing that he wasn’t looking to argue. “Let’s move.”
The rest of the day passed in relative silence, our focus on navigating the increasingly treacherous terrain. The trail wound through narrow passes and over loose scree, the footing precarious at best. Glowbug flitted ahead, its light a small but steady guide through the shaded ravines.
As the sun dipped low, the trail leveled out, revealing a sprawling valley nestled between the peaks. Smoke curled lazily from a cluster of chimneys in the distance, marking the settlement Torrin had spoken of. Relief washed over me, though the sight of the town brought a fresh wave of nerves. The last settlement we’d passed had left me on edge, the fear of bounty hunters lurking in every shadow making it hard to relax. Each glance or whispered word felt like it might bring trouble, and I couldn’t shake the unease that followed me down the road.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Torrin said, leading the way down the slope. “Get what we need and rest up. Tomorrow, we start the climb.”
The settlement was a modest but bustling market town, its stone cottages and timber-framed houses clustered around a central square. A blacksmith’s forge glowed at one edge, while a small market thrived at the other. Children darted between the stalls, their laughter mingling with the chatter of merchants and townspeople.
Torrin guided us to an inn near the square, its sign swinging gently in the evening breeze. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant with the scent of roasting meat and spiced cider. Torrin approached the innkeeper, a stout woman with a kind face, and arranged for two small rooms before turning to us.
“Rest here while I get supplies,” he said. “Harriet, you’re with me. The rest of you, stay out of sight. The innkeeper will bring you some hot meals and then show you to your room.”
Lyra started to protest, but I cut her off with a reassuring smile. “We’ll be back soon,” I promised.
Outside, the market was winding down, but a few stalls remained open. Torrin haggled with a merchant for sturdy blankets and thick woolen clothing, his gruff demeanor earning a fair deal. I lingered by a stall selling secondhand leather goods, selecting two pairs of fleece-lined boots, and two backpacks that were well-worn but serviceable. They were exactly what Lyra and Evan needed, and I felt a sense of purpose as I handed over the coins.
“They’ll be happy to have packs of their own,” I said, clutching the bags to my chest while I scooped up the boots with my other arm.
When we returned to the inn common room, our young companions had just finished their food and were licking their bowls. Lyra’s expression softened as she accepted the clothes and blanket. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and this time, there was no hint of defiance in her tone.
Evan’s eyes lit up as he tried on his new boots, the sturdy leather a far cry from his old, patched shoes. “These are amazing!” he said, grinning up at me. Glowbug trilled softly from inside my hood, its light casting a warm glow over the boy’s delighted face. I patted its side, sending a mental command to it to stay hidden, and it settled down again.
The stairs creaked as I followed Torrin up to the rooms the innkeeper had prepared for us. The warm glow of the lanterns on the walls made the narrow hallway feel cozy, but my nerves buzzed from the long day and the tension still lingering between us.
Torrin stopped in front of a door, the key jingling in his hand as he unlocked it. He pushed it open and stepped aside, motioning for me to enter first. “We’re in this one. The siblings are next door,” he said, his tone neutral.
I stepped into the room and froze. The first thing that caught my eye was the bed—singular. It was large enough for two people but unmistakably one bed. My stomach dropped, and I turned to Torrin, who had stepped inside and was setting his pack down by the door.
“Uh, there’s only one bed,” I said, my voice higher-pitched than I intended.
“Perceptive,” Torrin smiled, and shrugged. “Looks like the innkeeper assumed we were married. Probably thought the kids were ours too.”
I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to process what he’d just said. “Married? And I’m supposed to be their mother? Are you kidding me? I’m way too young to be mistaken for anyone’s mother!”
Torrin chuckled, the sound low and unbothered. “Relax. It works in our favor. A family traveling together raises less suspicion than a random group of people.”
I crossed my arms, my face burning. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with… this.” I gestured at the bed.
Torrin sat on the edge of it, testing the mattress with a bounce. “We’ve been sleeping beside each other for days on the road. This isn’t much different.”
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My embarrassment flared hotter. “That was different! There was space, and it wasn’t…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the bed again.
Torrin’s grin widened. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing here, I know how this story goes—” I put on a deep voice, in a poor imitation of Torrin, “‘Oh look, there’s only one bed! I’ll sleep on the floor to spare your embarrassment,’ and then I feel bad about it and let you stay in the bed, and you get wandering hands in the night!”
“You really think I’m so devious? I did mean it, the floor is fine for me. I’ve slept in worse places after all, you know this.”
I frowned, not detecting any deceit in his words. “Ugh. You don’t have to do that. We’re both adults; we can be reasonable about this. We’ll sleep with our backs to each other. That’s… manageable. Just don’t get any ideas.”
Before Torrin could reply, there was a knock at the door. He stood and opened it to reveal the innkeeper, who held a steaming tub of water.
“Thought you might like a wash after your journey,” she said kindly, setting the tub down on a small table near the bed. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” Torrin said, shutting the door behind her. He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “Ladies first.”
I stared at the tub, mortified. “You mean, you’re going to use my dirty water after me? That’s disgusting.”
Torrin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face. “You’re not disgusting. And it’ll cost extra to get more water. The kids are sharing theirs too. Don’t take long; the water will go cold.”
I spluttered, torn between outrage and embarrassment. Finally, I grabbed a washcloth from my pack and shoved him toward the door. “Go get a drink from the bar or something. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
Torrin’s laughter followed him out the door as he left, and I locked it behind him with a huff. Glowbug chirruped softly from where it had nestled on the bed, clearly happy with the soft pillows, and I groaned. “Don’t start,” I muttered, grabbing a clean shirt from my bag and resigning myself to the wash.
The warm water eased the tension in my muscles, and as I scrubbed at my skin, I tried to push away the awkwardness of sharing a room with Torrin. It wasn’t ideal, but it was temporary. As I dried off and changed, I resolved to make the best of it—even if it meant enduring his teasing for the rest of the night.
When Torrin returned, he closed the door behind him and stripped off his shirt without hesitation, revealing a muscular chest littered with faint scars. I froze, my face heating as I tried to look anywhere but at him. Ah yes, this floor is made of floor, how interesting!
Flustered, I blurted, “I should give you some privacy.” Torrin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “No need,” he said with a shrug, his tone casual. “I’m not as shy as you. Just get yourself settled for bed and face the other way if it bothers you.” Swallowing my embarrassment, I turned my back to him and focused on getting into bed, my movements stiff and awkward.
I heard every splash ring out in sharp relief, every drip of water hitting the floorboards and each sound of wet cloth against skin painted a picture of his actions in my mind. I became painfully aware of his breaths, and the sound of him drying off and then stretching out his tight muscles after finishing his wash.
“Backs to each other,” I said firmly as he settled onto the other side of the bed, giving him no room to argue.
“Understood,” he replied, his tone teasing. “Goodnight, Harriet.”
“Goodnight,” I muttered, staring at the wall. The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the hearth downstairs and the rhythmic breathing of Glowbug, nestled on the nightstand. Despite my exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts churned, replaying the events of the day and the strange, unfamiliar closeness of sharing a bed. Torrin’s presence felt impossibly large, even with his back to me, and every shift he made sent my nerves on edge.
Eventually, my thoughts and anxieties blurred into the half-coherence of near-sleep. That’s when the nightmare began.
I was back in school, sitting at a desk that felt too small, the walls around me closing in. The voices of my old classmates buzzed like flies, their cruel laughter warped into feral snarling. Their faces distorted, their eyes glowing unnaturally in the dim light, and jagged, needle-like teeth gleamed as they grinned. One boy’s shadow stretched behind him, twisting into clawed hands that seemed ready to reach for me, while a girl’s tongue flicked out unnaturally, curling as she laughed. The air felt suffocating, their monstrous features amplifying every taunt.
“Harriet the loner,” one of them sneered, her voice overlapping with the guttural growl of a beast. “Doesn’t belong anywhere.”
Their voices grew louder, a crashing of taunts and snarls. My breath quickened as the room dissolved into the shadowy depths of the forest. The monsters surrounded me, their eyes glowing and their laughter ringing in my ears. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Stop.”
A clawed hand reached for me, and I screamed—
“Hattie!”
The sound of Torrin’s voice yanked me from the nightmare. I gasped, my chest heaving as I bolted upright. Torrin’s hands were on my shoulders, his face inches from mine. His dark eyes were filled with concern, his voice steady but urgent. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. It was a dream. Just a bad dream.”
I blinked, disoriented, the nightmare’s grip still clinging to me. My hands trembled as I clutched the blanket, struggling to ground myself in what was real. “I… I don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
Torrin nodded, his expression softening. “You don’t have to. But if you ever change your mind, I’ll listen.”
The kindness in his tone unraveled something in me, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. My body shook, the lingering fear from the nightmare refusing to let go. Torrin hesitated, then pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me with a steadiness that felt unshakable. “I’m here,” he murmured. “You’re not alone.”
His warmth sank into me, his calm breathing grounding me in the present. The faint scent of cider on his breath reminded me of the festival months earlier, a happier memory that began to push the nightmare’s darkness away. I let myself relax against him, my trembling easing as his presence wrapped around me like a shield.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.
He didn’t reply, just held me until my breathing slowed and the weight of exhaustion pulled me back toward sleep. This time, the dreams didn’t come. Torrin’s warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the safety I felt in his closeness lulled me into a deep, dreamless rest.
Name: Harriet Price
Age: 24
Type: Human (Level 2)
Titles(0/1): None
Classes(1/1): Apprentice
Professions(0/1): None
Talents(10/10): Basic Cooking, Basic Endurance, Basic Mending, Basic Sneak, Basic Survival Instincts, Intermediate Archery, Intermediate Crafting, Intermediate Housekeeping, Intermediate Identify, Sense Magic
Condition: Normal
Attributes:
Vitality: 70/70
Physical: 18
Mental: 18
Social: 14
Luck: 11
Experience: 55/200