His shoulders shook, and he tilted forward with laughter, but he honored her wishes and didn’t turn around. “It’s really charming that you’re so modest. Are people usually this shy in your world?”
“Yes!” Lily shouted through chattering teeth. “Sweet jeezus, this lake is cold!”
Lily took a few deep breaths and dunked her head underwater. She washed as quickly as she could, then ran out of the water. She took up a small square of material that Tristan had brought. It was some kind of synthetic fabric that turned out to be incredibly absorbent, and she dried herself with it in a few fast swabs. When she was fully dressed in her new outfit, she told Tristan he could turn back around.
“What?” she asked, when he gave her the once-over.
“You look like a rebel,” he replied with a little shake of his head. The way he said the word “rebel” made it clear that he wasn’t talking about disaffected youth. “I know you don’t understand yet, but trust me, it’s incredibly ironic.”
Lily fell into step next to Tristan, scrunching her curls dry with the ever-thirsty bit of fabric as he led her back to the fire. Apart from the growling in her empty belly, she felt remarkably at ease.
The wearhyde pants and jacket moved like the softest of leather on her legs and across her back, the boots were well-balanced and light, and the smog-free air was like a blessing to her lungs. The hills rolled and stacked themselves into the distance, just as they did in Lily’s world. The leaf-covered ground shuffled and crunched underfoot in exactly the same combination of birch, oak, and beech leaves as she remembered from her woods. The landscape was bigger, the trees older, and wildlife wilder than anything she knew, but this was still a New England forest in late autumn.
Lily had read Emerson and Thoreau. She’d read Walden sitting on the shores of Walden Pond, but she hadn’t felt like she was experiencing that same natural wonderland that they’d been moved to expound upon so long ago. It might have been because even at Walden Pond, she could hear the traffic on Route 126 droning away a few hundred yards behind her. But she finally understood all the poetry. Like a fish that had been pulled from its bowl only to be placed on the other side of the glass, she had a new perspective on a room she’d lived in her whole life. Except unlike the fish, she could breathe better outside the bowl.
Then there was Tristan. She glanced over at him as they neared the center of the camp. His shape, his scent, even the length of his stride were all the same, and all were second nature to Lily. He wasn’t the version of Tristan who had hurt her, but he was still basically the same person, and that was the problem. He had the same easy way with women—the same flirtatiousness. Even though this Tristan had never done anything to hurt her, Lily found herself bristling at the same charming smile she used to love.
As they joined the main group congregated by the fire, she recalled Lillian’s words. You belong here, and wondered if it was true. Then she thought about the Woven out there in the woods, and decided that she most definitely did not. This world was far too scary for Lily.
She looked up and saw Rowan staring at her over the fire, his eyes searching hers. Any thoughts of belonging were abruptly discarded. Rowan definitely didn’t want her here, and his distrust colored everything else. Rowan glanced from Lily to Tristan, and then his eyes darted swiftly away, like he knew her well enough to make assumptions about her character. It annoyed her beyond reason.
Lily had just taken a seat by the fire with Tristan when the sachem came striding stiffly into view. Everyone jumped to their feet at his approach and Lily followed suit.
“Don’t get up,” Alaric said gruffly. He bent over the fire and ladled out a bowl of what looked to Lily like lentils and potatoes. “Did Lady Juliet’s guard return yet?” he asked Rowan while he served himself.
“No. We should move camp as soon as possible,” Rowan replied. The sachem shook his head gravely.