than usual, as if he’d been sobbing uncontrollably for hours. Or as if he’d been shouting. “Nothing happened.”
His mother’s hand began rubbing his shoulder as she considered this. Colin could feel her thinking, could feel her debating whether to press him.
But then she patted his hand and stood, moving back to her work.
“Your father and the others have gone down to the docks. There’s a new ship expected today, and they’re hoping to get some work unloading the cargo. As soon as I’m finished here with the stitching, do you think you could run the clothes up to Miriam? She should have a few loaves of bread for us in return.”
She spoke as if nothing were wrong, as if nothing had happened. But Colin could feel her eyes on his back, so he nodded.
“Good.”
And then she left him alone, working in silence behind him. Slowly, the ache in his chest receded, and he could no longer feel the blood pulsing in his skin, in his throat. He found he could breathe.
When he finally rolled over, arms sluggish, body tired, as if exhausted, he found her watching him, her brow creased slightly in concern.
“All right?” she asked, her voice soft and calm.
He nodded, even though it wasn’t. He didn’t think it would ever be all right again.
His mother accepted the nod, and somehow that made it worse. She handed over the basket of clothes with a smile, reached to tousle his hair, but then caught herself, a fleeting expression of regret passing through her eyes.
“Don’t forget the bread,” she said.
Colin ducked out of the hut, paused outside. He squinted up at the afternoon light, the sun almost too bright, then headed off up the slope toward Miriam’s, moving slowly.
He hadn’t gone twenty paces when Karen fell into step beside him. She smiled when he looked up, then glanced down at the basket of clothing.
“Finally learned to wash your own clothes?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
He rolled his eyes. “No. These are for Miriam. My mother mended them.”
“Oh.” Karen hesitated, then added, “Mind if I join you?”
Colin answered her with a confused look and she laughed.
“I’m headed that way anyway,” she said. “We may as well walk together, right?”
Colin shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t want to deal with Karen. Not now.
Karen gave him a questioning look. “Is there anything wrong? You seem . . . different somehow.”
“Different from what?”
“I don’t know. Different from when we crashed into each other by the stream.”
Colin blushed. “We’ve seen each other since then.”
“I know,” Karen said. “I’ve seen you watching me.”
The blush suddenly deepened, and Colin found he couldn’t speak.
Karen grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been watching you as well. Down on the beach, practicing with your sling, and here in Lean-to when you helped your father and his friends build the community oven, and dig the plot for the garden, and any of a hundred other small things. You’re pretty good with the sling.”
Colin ducked his head, but not because of the compliment. He thought of Walter writhing on the ground instead. “Not that good.”
“That’s not what my dad says.” She eyed him from the side. They’d almost reached Miriam’s tent. “You usually bring back at least one kill every time you go hunting. That’s something to be proud of.”
Colin was about to respond when a voice he recognized—a voice that filled him with dread—barked, “That’s him! That’s the bastard who attacked me!”
Colin spun, Karen turning beside him. He saw Walter almost instantly, noticed the two guardsmen in the Carrente crest a moment later. Seeing the Armory in the middle of Lean-to, where they’d never dared enter before, sent a shock down through his spine and froze his feet in place. Seeing the pure hatred on Walter’s face made his heart shudder.
His only thought was that he’d left his sling back in the hut.
Karen raised a hand
His mother’s hand began rubbing his shoulder as she considered this. Colin could feel her thinking, could feel her debating whether to press him.
But then she patted his hand and stood, moving back to her work.
“Your father and the others have gone down to the docks. There’s a new ship expected today, and they’re hoping to get some work unloading the cargo. As soon as I’m finished here with the stitching, do you think you could run the clothes up to Miriam? She should have a few loaves of bread for us in return.”
She spoke as if nothing were wrong, as if nothing had happened. But Colin could feel her eyes on his back, so he nodded.
“Good.”
And then she left him alone, working in silence behind him. Slowly, the ache in his chest receded, and he could no longer feel the blood pulsing in his skin, in his throat. He found he could breathe.
When he finally rolled over, arms sluggish, body tired, as if exhausted, he found her watching him, her brow creased slightly in concern.
“All right?” she asked, her voice soft and calm.
He nodded, even though it wasn’t. He didn’t think it would ever be all right again.
His mother accepted the nod, and somehow that made it worse. She handed over the basket of clothes with a smile, reached to tousle his hair, but then caught herself, a fleeting expression of regret passing through her eyes.
“Don’t forget the bread,” she said.
Colin ducked out of the hut, paused outside. He squinted up at the afternoon light, the sun almost too bright, then headed off up the slope toward Miriam’s, moving slowly.
He hadn’t gone twenty paces when Karen fell into step beside him. She smiled when he looked up, then glanced down at the basket of clothing.
“Finally learned to wash your own clothes?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
He rolled his eyes. “No. These are for Miriam. My mother mended them.”
“Oh.” Karen hesitated, then added, “Mind if I join you?”
Colin answered her with a confused look and she laughed.
“I’m headed that way anyway,” she said. “We may as well walk together, right?”
Colin shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t want to deal with Karen. Not now.
Karen gave him a questioning look. “Is there anything wrong? You seem . . . different somehow.”
“Different from what?”
“I don’t know. Different from when we crashed into each other by the stream.”
Colin blushed. “We’ve seen each other since then.”
“I know,” Karen said. “I’ve seen you watching me.”
The blush suddenly deepened, and Colin found he couldn’t speak.
Karen grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been watching you as well. Down on the beach, practicing with your sling, and here in Lean-to when you helped your father and his friends build the community oven, and dig the plot for the garden, and any of a hundred other small things. You’re pretty good with the sling.”
Colin ducked his head, but not because of the compliment. He thought of Walter writhing on the ground instead. “Not that good.”
“That’s not what my dad says.” She eyed him from the side. They’d almost reached Miriam’s tent. “You usually bring back at least one kill every time you go hunting. That’s something to be proud of.”
Colin was about to respond when a voice he recognized—a voice that filled him with dread—barked, “That’s him! That’s the bastard who attacked me!”
Colin spun, Karen turning beside him. He saw Walter almost instantly, noticed the two guardsmen in the Carrente crest a moment later. Seeing the Armory in the middle of Lean-to, where they’d never dared enter before, sent a shock down through his spine and froze his feet in place. Seeing the pure hatred on Walter’s face made his heart shudder.
His only thought was that he’d left his sling back in the hut.
Karen raised a hand
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