“I heard people talking below my window last night. I—I was wondering who they were.”
“And you thought you could tell that by their footprints?” He lifted his own foot and looked at the bottom. “You can do that?”
She scowled. He was making fun of her now. He thinks I’m an idiot! Great. “No.” She felt her heart sink. “Please, just leave.” She felt so awful she might cry and absolutely didn’t want him to see that.
He turned to walk away again, but once more stopped. “Okay, so you have to tell me, or it will bother me all day. Why were you looking for footprints? How would that help you identify who these people were?”
I hate my life.
Brin didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust herself to talk anymore, and thought he might just leave if she remained silent. He didn’t. Feeling stupid—no, she was well beyond that—she sighed.
I never had a chance with him anyway. What was I thinking? I wasn’t—I was dreaming. Look at him! Gorgeous, strong, dashing, and those eyes—those eyes! And then there’s me, a pale twig with no shape, an orphan who spends her days scribbling nonsense with discarded quills. He never was going to be interested in me. I might as well light the pyre under that dream and just let the whole thing burn.
“I—I was looking for footprints that weren’t human.”
“Are Fhrey feet that different?”
“Not Fhrey.”
He looked at her, puzzled. “You mean…wait—what do you mean? A dog or something?”
She shook her head. “Dogs don’t talk.”
He stared at her, eyes narrowed, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Then…what do you think was below your window last night?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it!
He walked back to her. His expression was exactly how she pictured he would look as she captivated him with tales of her literary prowess just before he fell in love with her. But that wasn’t going to happen now. She sighed and gave up. “A raow.”
You moron, Brin! I told you not to say it! Idiot! Idiot.
He’d laugh now—no, most likely he’d ask what a raow was and then not believe her when she explained. She’d face the humiliating experience of telling the tale of how she’d once nearly had her face eaten by one. Any thoughts about her being the sort of person he should stay clear of would be confirmed. He’d see her for what she really was—the real her—what she never was in her fantasies.
“Really?” he said.
Brin didn’t know how to respond. She searched his eyes for evidence of sarcasm, his lips for hints of mockery. Nothing—nothing obvious, at least.
“You…you believe me?”
He nodded easily, shifting his weight, and resting a hand on the butt of one sword. The confident, casual act was so insanely attractive that Brin sucked in a breath.
“My mother told me about the raow. Come from bodies left unburied, people who were wronged in life—betrayed, usually. Wait, you’re Brin, aren’t you?”
“You—” Her throat closed on her. She swallowed hard to clear it. “You know me?”
“Well…” He chuckled.
“What?” Her heart hesitated mid-beat.
He pointed to the house. “I was told Roan, Padera, and Brin lived here. I’ve met Roan.” Then he chuckled again. “I’m guessing you aren’t Padera.”
“Oh—” Brin laughed then, too. “No…no, I’m not her.”
“Yeah, I heard she’s like a couple hundred years old and doesn’t have any teeth.”
She nodded.
“I’m Tesh.” He extended a hand.
Brin hadn’t shaken many hands. Her mother and friends were huggers. Unsure and tentative, she reached out. He did the rest. He had rough skin that in places was polished to smooth calluses and a firm grip that tightened in stages, but he didn’t squeeze. He pulled her hand toward him giving it three solid pumps before letting go.
“Nice to meet you,” she replied, then immediately wondered if that was the right thing to say. She’d thought it was appropriate, but coming out of her mouth it sounded too formal and—
“Why do you think a raow was here?” he asked, looking down at the flower bed.
She shrugged. Her hand was still up from the shake, and she had to will it down to her side. She could still feel the warmth of his palm. “It’s hard to explain. But what they were saying was—”
“Raow talk?
“Yes, but maybe it wasn’t two raow—maybe it was one raow, and one…I’m not sure. I only know for certain that one was a raow.”
“How do you know?
“The voice. It sounded—”
Tesh’s eyes grew big, realization dawning. “You’re Brin.”
“We’ve already established that.”
“I mean—the Brin. Roan mentioned you. Told us about how you were grabbed by a raow under a Dherg mountain. She said you almost had your face eaten off.”
Thanks a lot, Roan. I should just die now.
“Is it the same one? Did it follow you?” Tesh looked around, as if the monster might jump out at them from a nearby hedge.
“No,” Brin said. “The one in Neith was killed.”
“So, why is this one after you? Do you think it knew the other raow?”