Page 11 of Sustaining
Dirty Work
I walkout into the forest with them the following morning. The sun isn’t even ready to be up yet, and here we stand in the dim lighting of the dawn that’s shining through the brown leaves clinging to the limbs overhead.
Chaos, Rime, and Sinister are given tools. Rime and Chaos nod along to what Brenton, my father’s worker, is instructing them on, but Sinister’s gaze keeps drifting down the sharp blade of the axe Brenton just handed him. He holds it like it’d like a prop rather than a tool.
“Okay, so you got your axe, you got your trees.” The man with the easy smirk lifts his hands to the forest around us. “I’ll check back in with you in about an hour. Try not to fuck anything up.”
“Wait.” Sinister tosses the axe aside and takes a step after Brenton.
The worker arches a blond brow at the demon, eyeing him closely as if Sinister might rip out the man’s soul at any minute.
“Do you have…blueprints? An outline? Something we should be going by?”
“No. That’s…that’s definitely out of your skill set, my man. You three are just here for your muscle. I’ll take Arlow up to the steam rooms, and we’ll get this shit done in a couple weeks. No problem.” The cocky smirk never falters, and he’s the only person smiling this damn early in the morning.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you were going to lead my girl to a steam room?” Chaos is just now looking as concerned as Sinister about this situation, and it isn’t because he’s never used an axe before.
“The steaming bends the wood, gives it form. Pretty girls make for good wood handlers, you know.” The asshole licks his lips as he winks at Chaos, and it does not make this situation better.
Rime doesn’t share the guy’s amusement, and he takes two steps forward, his gaze cold and calculating. He’s a predator who knows how quickly and how easily it would be to make this man shut up.
“Okay. We’re fine. We’re going to get this done. Everyone’s fine.” I smile forcefully as I step into Rime’s path, putting my hands firmly against his chest until his cruel attention finds my calm features.
He doesn’t immediately react. That glaring emptiness still shines in his gaze, and I stay for as long as it takes with my hands trailing up, cradling his jaw until the tension subsides from it. I nod slowly. He nods as well.
“It’s fine,” he whispers. His hands remain at his sides, his chin lifting to Brenton. “Don’t fuck up, Brenton.” He repeats the man’s words right back to him. It’s eerie the way he smiles after he says that. One side of his lips turn up sharply, a threat lingering unspoken against his mouth.
“Yeah, I won’t.” That arrogant smile isn’t Brenton’s mouth anymore, and he’s careful not to make direct eye contact with me as he motions for me to follow him.
“Be good.” I watch Rime closely. I sound like that beast tamer scolding her arrogant dragon taints all over again.
“I am good,” Rime rasps, that manic smile only growing when he finally looks down at me.
I shake my head at him, slowly releasing him and backing away to follow after Brenton.
“Tell me if he fucks up, Tamer.”
“He won’t, Shifter.”
Chaos and Sinister smirk at my teasing nickname, but Rime’s cruel amusement is different than theirs. Dangerous. That smile hides all the dark things that flash through his quiet mind, and I know it.
His pale eyes narrow on me. “We’ll see.”
I turn my back on them when branches tangle in my dress and I trail quickly after Brenton.
“There are three other groups working farther down the southern bend. I don’t expect your friends to get much done on their first day, but hopefully they’ll catch up to the other logging group’s speed within a week or two.” Brenton no longer smiles that teasing smile with me. He’s one hundred percent serious now, and I know exactly who to thank for that. “You’ll be on the coast in the steam room. Between steam cycles, you can come up deck and start the staining process.”
“I’ve actually done this several times. You don’t have to go over it with me.” Hell, I’ve even worked in the forest a few times, but my father always hated me out there. It’s dangerous. More than just the sharp tools and possible trees falling, but rollover logs are a danger out there.
I hate the tearing away of the trees and disrupting the environment but the work they do is nothing short of amazing. I loved helping him on the dock, working by the sea and enjoying the sun, but the entire process, start to finish, is kind of incredible. My father doesn’t hold any magic of any kind, but he takes all these beautiful things in nature and makes something miraculous. The trees that line this land sail out into the violent sea and withstand the wrath.
It’s nothing short of amazing.
When the smooth, warm deck skims underfoot, Brenton barely even motions a hand toward the steam rooms. He must value his life more than flirting with me. He’s a smart man.
To my left, the framing structure of a ship rests on stilts. It’s bare, just the ribs as my father would say. Men work with hammers and nails in the cool morning air. The sun is just crawling up into the sky, and I look up at the building in front of me. On the edge of the dock is the large square building of the sweat sauna—I mean, steam room. Three women sit up on the edge of the roof, their hands stained, and they continue to swipe over the side of the ship floating mere inches from the steam room. It’s a perfect setup here, employing hundreds of people and making Warf a nice little coastal village.
And yet I’d rather be anywhere else.
