Man, that got him outta here quick.
It didn’t look like he’d slept in here either. Frowning, she took another sip of the drink then set the cup down and eased her way up off the pallet. As expected she was sore all over, but a quick inventory showed their advanced g’hir medicine had worked magic; her bruises were faded to almost nothing, her scrapes and blisters gone.
She’d slept in the shirt but it wasn’t as rumpled as she thought it would be. Granny Jones, a Southern belle if there ever was one, always said that a lady never set out of the house no matter what the day or time without her hair neat and a least a little lipstick. Summer’s mouth curved into a wry smile. Granny would probably have paused during the escape to touch up her face powder but Summer didn’t even have a brush or comb; sneaking those hadn’t been a priority. Neither was make-up. She didn’t even have lip balm with her.
She pulled on the trousers then ran her hands through her hair, not that it did much good against the many tangles.
Damn it, who cares how I look out here anyway?
She’d used Ke’lar’s too-big soft foot coverings last night when her feet hurt too much to don her own shoes but she’d been riding, not walking, then. They kept her feet warm enough but flopped comically whenever she walked and Ke’lar’s fangs flashed in a smile when he saw her emerge from the shelter.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed at being so clumsy. “I didn’t see my boots and I didn’t want to just go riffling through your stuff looking for them.”
“There is no need,” he said, bending to retrieve a bundle of shaped skins. “I have made you new ones.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I have made new boots for you.”
“Wait—you made boots for me?” He jerked his chin toward her—a g’hir’s nod—and her eyebrows rose. “When did you have time to do that? And why?”
“After this morning’s hunting. As to why—” He sent a glance at her feet. “You cannot wear the others without suffering pain and clearly my foot coverings will not suit.” He extended the boots toward her. “These are of simple design; they will be easy to adjust for your comfort but you must put them on for me to be sure they fit. If they do not, I can alter them.”
“Uh, okay,” she managed, taking the pair from him. They were beautifully made, a deep brown, created from skins that made them look a lot like the sheepskin boots she wore at home in the winter but made without a hard sole, like moccasins.
Balancing on one foot, she pulled on one then the other and using the leather straps secured them to the carved buttons. She took a few experimental steps. They were soft, warm, and extremely comfortable to walk in.
His glowing gaze met hers. “Do they fit?”
“They’re perfect,” she said honestly. “They’re amazing.” She gave a laugh. “I can’t believe you just made these for me! Where did you learn boot-making, Ke’lar?”
“It is one of the skills a warrior learns.”
“Like fighting? Like hunting?”
Her throat tightened. Like capturing women?
Ke’lar indicated the spit and the meat roasting there. “And cooking.”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl and her face heated when he gave a huffing laugh.
“It will be ready shortly,” he promised.
“Well, then.” She brushed her hands on the sides of her trousers. “I best hurry and wash up. Which way to the water? I want to take my new boots for a test drive.”
“Come.” He swung a small pack over his shoulder and indicated a thicket of trees about a football field away. “It is not far.”
“I just needed you to point the way,” she said, turning in that direction. “I’ll be back a few.”
In an instant he was in front of her, blocking her way. She gasped at his speed.
I’ll never get used to how goddamn fast they are!
“You are my responsibility, Summer.” His glowing blue gaze was earnest, his growl caveman brash. “Mine to protect now.”
“What are you going to protect me from?” she asked, her face heating. “The fish?”
“I vowed to bring you safely to the Erah clanhall so that you may make your appeal to my father.” His nostrils flared a bit, his booted feet planted firmly. “I cannot honor my vow if I do not keep you safe.”
“Damn it, I don’t need you to—!” Summer threw her hands out in frustration. “You know what? Fine, whatever. I’m hungry.” She gave a flourishing mocking wave in the direction of the trees. “Lay on, MacDuff.”
He didn’t budge, his alien brow furrowed. “‘MacDuff’?”