Page 126 of Bones
“It’s ok. Let’s take a break.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“C’mon, we can eat a little something too.”
I gave up and let him usher me over to a fallen tree, watching as he brushed the snow off. He sat next to me, close enough that our thighs pressed together, but I didn’t feel trapped, not with Trey.
“Ok, I got some dried meat and some apples. How about you?” he asked, digging through his pack.
“I got dried meat too.” I fished out the small satchel I’d been storing bits of food in. “And I gotthis.” I pulled out a full wedge of hard cheese and his face broke into a grin.
“How the hell did you get that?” he demanded.
“I stole it,” I admitted, flushing slightly. “Neena has a thing for Griz. I sent him to the kitchen on a fake errand. She was so distracted by him that I was able to slip into the root cellar and grab it.”
“You tricky little thing, you.” That sunshine smile lit up the whole damn woods.
“It’s also how I was able to get this.” I pulled a chunk of cornbread out wrapped in a clean cloth.
"Well, you win this round." He held up a withered apple with a playful grimace.
We ate in companionable silence. The woods had grown even darker, which meant dawn wasn’t too far off. Wolf growled in my head, but I did my best to ignore him.
You’re gonna watch him die,Wolf whispered.Don’t you remember?
The horrific, bloody images flashed through my mind and I flinched like I could get away from my own memories.
“What’s wrong?” Trey stiffened, his eyes scanning me.
I tried to get a hold of myself, but Wolf had opened a floodgate of memories I did my best to keep locked away. My heart seized in my chest and my lungs turned to stone.
“Bones?”
“I can’t watch you die.” The words slipped out, harsh and panicked.
“Well, I don’t plan on dyin’ anytime soon,” he said, nudging my leg with his.
I couldn’t respond because I used up all my air to get that one sentence out.
“Hey,” he laid his hand over mine where my fingers dug into my leg.
When I didn’t pull away, he flipped my hand over and laced his fingers through mine. I gripped them, trying to pull some of his steady strength and calm through our joined hands.
“You want to talk about it?” he murmured. “Or would you like a distraction?”
“Distraction,” I managed to get out.
“Alright,” he said with no judgment, “when Mac and I were about thirteen we stole a bottle of moonshine and got shitfaced. Then ’cause we were shitfaced we thought it’d be a good idea to challenge each other to climb the watchtower.”
“The outside?” I choked, thinking of the rough concrete exterior.
"The outside," he confirmed with a grin. "Course we got probably twenty feet up and panicked. So then we had to cling to the wall and yell for help, which brought all the guards running. They had to go fetch ladders to get us down. My mom was so furious at us that Madame let her pick our punishment. We had outhouse duty for two weeks."
Tight bands still wrapped around my chest, but my lungs breathed a little easier. “What happened to Mac’s parents?”
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Mac’s mom died when he was three. His dad was one of the leaders of the early rebellion, but Madame caught wind of it and had the leaders whipped.” He squeezed my hand a little tighter, his voice rough with pain. “Fifty lashes each.”
My back spasmed in pain at the thought. “Fifty?” I gasped.
