Page 8 of 1000 of You
Returningto his shed, he went back to work on the dagger. He was able to immerse himselfin his labor without further interruption.
The sun wasdirectly overhead when he dipped the blade into the wooden bucket of water tocool the metal and glanced outside. The hiss of steam covered the sound of hisstomach reminding him it was time to eat. Taking both blades with him, he wentto his hut to grab a bite, and hopefully exchange a few words withGova.
Again, shewasn’t there, but there was evidence she had returned after his previous visit.The wolf pelts had been stacked on one end of the bed. Also, his bowl and spoonsat to the side of the fire, where the low heat could keep the contents warm. Apiece of cloth lay over the top, to protect the contents from dirt and insects.Knowing she’d left him this portion pleased him.
Laying theweapons on the shelf, he deposited the money he’d earned from thesharpeningsinto the small clay pot he kept buriedunderneath that shelf. Once he was assured it was safely hidden, he retired tothe fire pit.
As he ate, he also noticed her oldshift, as well as a pair of his breeches, appeared to have been washed. They nowhung from the wall pegs to dry, along with more fresh bundles of herbs. Slowly,the hut was beginning to look lived in and comfortable. He sniffed. It smelledgood, too.
“Ah! Youfinally stopped long enough to eat,” a voice greeted him from the doorway.Govaentered and went over to her bed to dump the smallbundle of items she’d been carrying in the makeshift pouch she’d created out ofthe front of her tunic. “I was wondering when you would come eat. Did you getmuch accomplished?”
“I workedon the dagger,” he commented around his mouthful of food, and watched her dustoff her lap. She went over and picked up the weapon, lightly testing the edgewith the ball of her thumb.
“It doesnot get a final sharpening until I am satisfied with the overall design,” headded. Seeing her examining the blade reminded him of the spoon he’d shaped forher. Pulling it out of the small pouch hanging from his belt, he held it out toher. “I also made this for you.”
She gavehim a surprised look and plucked the utensil from his hand. After turning itover and over, she tilted her head at him. “For me? This is for me?”
“You needyour own to eat with. I cannot in good conscience watch you burn your fingerswhen I have the ability to furnish you with one of your own.”
She satdown beside him, still staring at the simple spoon in amazement. “No one hasever made something specifically for me.” She touched her knee. “This shift isthe first new thing I have ever owned in…” She smiled and sighed. “I cannotremember the last new thing I have owned.”
“Maybe itis time for that to change,” he remarked, and gestured to her new bed. “Youwere not here when I brought you those pelts. They are not the softest quality,but they will do for now.”
A warm handrested on his arm, surprising him. At her touch, he stared into her face, intothose purple eyes, and he would almost swear he could get lost in them.
“Did youthink I had left you?” she softly asked.
“I hadwondered.”
“Muam, you never have to fear me trying to run away. I donot care how many times I will have to repeat myself, but I will until youfinally believe me.” The corners of her mouth curled upward. “I am happy here.I am content. Why would I ever leave?”
He couldn’tanswer her, and didn’t.
Giving hisarm a little squeeze, she removed her hand, and he regretted the loss. Hecurled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her, when everything inhim screamed to pull her into his arms.
She rose, twirling her spoon in herhands. “Until you sell me, or give me away, or until the day when you tell meto leave, I am staying. You have my word.”
Heswallowed hard. “Be assured,Gova, that day willnever come. Only in the event of my death, or yours, will we part. And on that,you havemyword.”
Her smilewidened, and it was then he knew he had fallen in love with her.
Chapter 7
Comfort
The horseswere getting restless. She could hear them snorting and shuffling their feet inanticipation of the day to come. The morning was cold, making the sunlighthitting her face a welcomed warmth.
Nearby, agroup of men were talking. No, arguing. One man’s voice, in particular, stoodout among the rest, rising in volume as his anger increased. The moment sheheard it, a shaft of pure fear went through her, chilling her to the marrow ofher bones.
Gova’seyes flew open.
No. No,this was not possible!
Panicthreatened to shred her sanity. Slowly, she lifted her head to look around her.Not far away,Kolisstood nose-to-nose in a heatedargument with another man. Challenging him. Berating him. Insulting him. At anymoment he would instigate the first slap, the first poke, or the first shove,and the fight would commence.
She triedto muffle the whimper rising into her throat. WhenKolisgot angry, he lost the ability to reason. And when that happened, in most instances,he came out the loser. Beaten and resentful, he would take out his shame onwhoever was least likely to strike back. In almost every case, that would beher.
She glancedaround in mounting dread as it all came roaring back to her.Muam, the hut, the shed, the village—it had been a dream. Alost dream. A wish her heart and mind had made and turned into fantasy to helpher escape the ugly reality of what she was forced to live in.
