“No,” I snap, then soften my tone. “But if you could tell me how much farther, I’d be grateful.”
His inscrutable gaze lingers on me. “The main cavern is just around that bend.” He points the torch toward a distant crimp in the path. I wait to grimace until his back is turned again.
We eventually reach the turn and are greeted by the flicker of distant campfires. The tunnel widens, with a few openings on either side—smaller caverns where I can hear people talking and water splashing. The front cave comes into view a moment later. It’s massive, at least as large as the domed chamber in the Temple on the Rock. Around its edges are . . . well, calling them cottages would be generous. At least forty small shelters line either side of the cavern, low walls of stacked stones from which jut rough frames of wood. Hanging from those are loose fabric, animal pelts, drapes made of dried and woven marsh grass, anything to give the residents a bit of privacy. None of the shelters have roofs, but they don’t need them—the cavern provides one, though water drips from its black, spiky ceiling.
In the center of the broad, relatively flat expanse of this cavern is a crudely made hearth, and it’s obvious that it’s a community oven, as several women surround it, poking at dark-brown loaves of bread with sticks and wooden paddles. Children chase one another around the edge of it, their faces streaked with dirt, the knees of their trousers worn and holey. Men gather close to a large fire nearer to the front of the cavern, playing their games of cards. Some are working near their own shelters, oiling traps and untangling fishing lines. One man nearby is skinning a hare, peeling its fur from its flesh with brutal efficiency. I swallow hard and look away.
“And here’s the main cavern,” Oskar says in a low voice, leaning against a rocky ledge and sweeping his arm across the scene. “Otherwise known as the den of thieves. Don’t they look vicious?”
Several of the cavern’s inhabitants have noticed our entrance. One by one, they stop what they’re doing to stare at me. “They don’t exactly look friendly,” I mutter, taking a step back.
Oskar’s large hand closes over my shoulder. “They know you’re under my protection,” he says, waving at a stout, brown-bearded man standing near the big fire. The man raises his hand to acknowledge Oskar, then returns to tossing split logs onto the flames. “Newcomers make them wary. Mind your own business, and—”
“Oskar!” cries a piping voice. A young girl, perhaps ten years of age, comes darting out of a shelter on our left. Two braids of dark hair on either side of her head flap as she runs. “Is this her?” she huffs as she stops in front of us.
“No, this is the other girl I rescued from a bear trap.”
She slaps Oskar’s fur-covered arm. “You are so grumpy when the cold comes.” Her green eyes are full of energy as she turns to me. “Why is your dress on backward?” she asks, looking at my awkwardly high neckline. Raimo strikes again. “And what’s wrong with your hair?”
My left hand rises to my kerchief. “I . . .”
“Her hand is injured, and she hasn’t had the benefit of a mirror for several days,” says Oskar, saving me from revealing my ignorance. “Or of female company. That’s where you come in.” He gestures at the girl. “This little bandit is Freya.” He reaches out and tugs one of her braids. “My darling sister and a budding master thief.”
“Thief?” The girl scowls. “What in stars are you going on about—”
“Of course you’re not a thief,” I say, glaring at her big brother, who merely looks back at me with challenge in his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Freya. I’m Elli.” I give her a curtsy, as I’ve seen Mim do so many times.
Freya snorts and imitates me, confirming that I’ve done something stupid. “All right, Elli, come on. My mother wants to meet you, and Oskar needs to go kill some furry woodland creatures.”
Oskar touches her shoulder. “Freya, if the alarm is sounded—”
She lifts her chin. “I know what to do. I can take care of myself and her, too.”
Oskar grins, his whole face brightening, and he tugs Freya into a quick, fierce hug. She disappears into the folds of his cloak and emerges with her hair mussed and a big smile on her face. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he says.