He wrapped his fi
ngers around her small wrist, taking her hand off him and her lips came away from his. “I’m not like them,” he said, rough sand in his voice, taking her by the upper arms and setting her away. He brought the blanket to her, wrapping it around her shoulders again and covering her nakedness. He didn’t know exactly who “they” were, but whatever enemy she’d run from had taken her clothes and made her scared enough to run mostly naked out into the snow, made her offer her body to him though he had not asked for it, or done anything to make her want to give it to him. He hadn’t fed her, or hunted for her, or brought her gifts that made her dance.
She stared up at him and he saw tears shining in her eyes. She nodded and walked to where she’d dropped her clothing. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt he’d outgrown long ago and handed them to her. “The seams are gone in places because I used the thread, but they’ll keep you warm. You can stay here for a little while if you need to. I have weapons.”
She smiled, and to him, it seemed sad. “You’d fight for me, wouldn’t you? A stranger.”
“Yes.”
She smiled again and used her hand to touch his cheek. “You’re very attractive, you know that? Not just here”—she turned her hand over and ran it down his face and over the bone of his jaw—“but here.” She patted the place where his heart beat under his skin.
Jak didn’t know what to say to her, was unsure why she seemed so sad suddenly. He was confused about all of this. Part of him wanted her to leave right away so things would go back to normal, and the other part of him hated his normal. “Do you think they might need me to fight in the war? Are they looking for soldiers?”
“No, I don’t think so. I really have to go. My family will be looking for me.”
He frowned, not understanding how she suddenly knew her way back when they hadn’t even stepped outside of his house, but before he could ask, she said, “You’re not uncivilized at all, Jak. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you are, okay?”
He didn’t answer. Who was he going to tell? As far as he knew, he might go his whole life never talking to anyone except Isaac Driscoll again.
“Let me walk you to—”
“No.” She took a quick glance around the room they were in, her eyes moving over the ceiling like she was looking for something. “I’m fine now.” She walked to his front door and opened it, turning around after she’d stepped onto his porch. He stood in the doorway, watching her. She gave him a shaky smile, reaching her hand out. He looked at it, not knowing what she wanted. “Shake my hand, Jak. This is what people do.”
He reached his hand out and took hers, and she grasped his hand, holding on and moving her eyes up and to the side like she was telling him to look somewhere with her eyes. But before he could figure what she was telling him to look at, she pulled him to her, and as she hugged him, she whispered, “There’s a camera in that tree behind me. Don’t make it obvious you know it’s there. I saw one down by the river too as I was on my way to you.”
On your way to me? “Camera?” he whispered. A camera took . . . pictures. He remembered. He remembered that word.
“You’re being watched. Please don’t tell anyone about me.”
Before he could ask her anything, she turned and ran away, going through the trees toward the road in the not too faraway.
He watched her until she disappeared, his heart pounding. They’re watching you. What did that mean? Watched by who? I saw one down by the river too. A camera. A camera watched.
Jak closed the door and then sat in his cabin, doing the numbers his baka had taught him in the long ago as he tried to clear his mind and slow his speeding heart. What is going on? He counted to one thousand, twice, and then took his bow and arrow and his coat and went back outside. He took a few steps in the snow and then bent down like he was fixing something on his boot, but while his hands moved on a tie, he looked upward through his hair that hid his face.
He didn’t know what he was looking for and it was a few minutes before he saw a small flash of something dark that was not a material found in the forest high up in the branches of the tree. He stood, putting his bow and arrow on his back again and walking toward the river.
His thoughts rolled and jumped like a downhill stream as he tried to make sense of what was happening with what was too little knowing.
Should he ask Driscoll? Maybe he was being watched too. But Jak threw away the thought. He hated the man, and he’d been trading with him for less and less as the winters had passed. Jak had either figured out how to do without things he’d gotten before from Driscoll, or he’d learned to make them himself using things he could find in the forest.
For all he knew, Driscoll was the one watching him. His skin prickled. Driscoll is bad. He’d known that, though, figured it out a long time ago. But . . . what did Jak have to fear from Driscoll’s badness, whatever it was? Jak was way stronger than him now, though he’d never tried to hurt Jak even when he wasn’t.
The river came up, the low roar of the icy water splashing over rocks and around small raised pieces of land in the middle of the rushing river. He’d bet there was a name for those, but he didn’t know what it was. He’d bet there was a name for everything, if he only knew where he could find the answers. The notes had given him lots of new words, ones he had to figure out the meaning for by how they were used. But he was good at figuring things out—he always had been.
Jak took off the bow and arrow from his back and sat on a fallen tree. He took out one of the arrows and picked up a flat rock from the ground and started pretending to sharpen the arrow as his eyes moved around, looking here and there, in a way someone watching him couldn’t tell.
It took him a long time before he saw the tiny flash of dark something that didn’t belong. It was in another tree to the side of the river bank. He’d have never seen it if he wasn’t looking for it. It was high up in one of the evergreens—just like the one in the front of his house—that stayed green all year round, so it’d never be uncovered by falling leaves.
His head spun. What does this mean?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Harper opened both eyes, blinking around. Reality filtered in in small pieces. An ice storm. No signal. Missed shift. Lucas. No, Jak. “Damn,” she whispered, concern bringing her fully out of sleep and prompting her to sit up and look around. Her head turned immediately to the bed where Jak had slept the night before, but it was empty.
Why did she always sleep so hard when she couldn’t manage more than a few hours at a time at home? Because you’re alone. Listening for . . . danger. All right, so she knew the problem, just not how to fix it. Apparently her subconscious felt no danger here though, and she slept soundly. There was a piece of fur on the floor under her, and she’d been kept warm by his blanket once again, while he’d slept without it. She’d tried to resist taking his blanket, but Jak had simply shaken his head and shoved it at her. She’d assuaged any guilt by telling herself he was right by the fire. And he was bigger than her. Quite a lot bigger.
Where was he? Harper got up, pulling on her boots and her jacket and opening the door to his cabin. She sucked in a small gasp as she took in the surroundings: a world shimmering and sparkling and seemingly made entirely of ice.