“He does,” Flinn answered brusquely. “Dayin, huh? That scamp saved your life. He concocted the herbs that drew out the poison.”
“What do you know about him, Flinn?” Jo asked, chewing a piece of the flat bread. Her appetite was slowly returning, and this was the first regular meal Flinn had fed her since the attack.
Flinn shrugged, disinterested. “He doesn’t bother me and I don’t bother him. What more can I say?”
“But why’s he all alone in these woods?” Jo persisted. Flinn looked up from his bowl, his left eyebrow arching deeply. “Why are you all alone out here in the woods? Why am I?”
“But that’s different, Flinn, and you know it. I’m here because I wanted to find you—”
Flinn interrupted, his voice mocking and bitter, “You wanted to find Flinn the Mighty, not me.”
Johauna ignored him. “And you’re here because this is where you want to be. But that doesn’t explain why…” Her voice trailed off as a scowl deepened across Flinn’s face and his cheek pulsed.
“Sometimes you have no idea what you babble about,” he spat out, standing up. He strode about the cabin, collecting gear and cooking supplies. Jo watched him in shock as he packed the items into a backpack. “I have trap lines to tend, and this—” he waved his hand about the room “—is only keeping me from them. You’re well enough to fend for yourself here in the cabin.”
“You’re leaving, Flinn?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly small and pained. For a moment Flinn’s eyes caught hers, and she thought she saw some emotion flicker there, but he averted his gaze.
“I’ll be gone a week, maybe ten days, to check the trap lines. I’m a trapper, remember. The griffon and mule will be with me, so you won’t need to worry about tending either of them.” He was backing out the door, finally turning his stony face toward her. He pivoted and began walking toward the barn, leaving Jo at the doorway.
“What will I do while you’re gone?”
Flinn stopped in the yard, then turned about slowly. “If—” he stressed the word “—you’re still here when I return, we will see.” His eyes caught hers again. “We will see.”
He turned and left.
A week passed, then a fortnight before Flinn finished his trapping and returned to the cabin in the woods. Snow had fallen recently, and in some parts of the woods it reached his waist; he had had to dismount from Ariac and lead the animals through snow-blocked passages. Now Flinn peered down at his cabin, studying the few tracks surrounding the buildings. He wondered if Johauna had indeed left. Then he saw smoke curling lazily away toward the blue, afternoon sky. He sighed.
The girl is still here, he thought. She is still here. Praise the Immortals.
Giving Ariac’s flanks a light tap, Flinn pressed onward. Fernlover brayed in anticipation of the comforts the barn promised. Flinn wasn’t surprised to see the barn door swing open and the girl emerge. He nodded at her but said nothing, not even after she broke into a wide smile.
“Flinn!” she shouted and raced to meet him. “You’re back!”
“Obviously.”
“I expected you a week ago.”
“I told you I might be longer than a week.”
“You said ten days, outside. It’s been two weeks.” She took Fernlover’s lead from him and led the pack animal into his own stall. “I was beginning to worry.”
Flinn halted his dismount in midstep to look at her, his eyebrow arching in amusement. “I find it unlikely you’d ever worry, girl, save perhaps when your next meal is postponed.” He finished swinging off the griffon. “Besides, I left plenty of food, and you obviously didn’t starve.”
She faced him squarely. “No, I didn’t starve.”
He eyed her slowly, noting that she had fashioned herself some breeches from the damaged hides he couldn’t take to market. She was wearing the shift he had made her, and she also had a new fur vest. Her damaged shoes, he noticed, had been repaired with some leather.
“You also didn’t leave.”
The words hung in the air between them. She moved her hand and pursed her lips, as if words threatened to spill forth that she couldn’t give voice to. At last she said, “I didn’t want to leave, Flinn.”
Without taking his eyes off Jo, Flinn opened the saddlebag next to him. He pulled out the blink dog’s tail and threw it at her. “Good. I’m glad.”
Jo caught the tail and cried, “Flinn! You found my tail! How? When? I thought too much snow had fallen! I thought I was never going to see this again.”
“I brought Ariac over to the scene of the fight. He’s got a keen nose—he found the tail without much trouble.” The warrior turned to the griffon and began undoing Ariac’s tack.
Jo stepped into the stall’s doorway. “Flinn,” she said tentatively.
“Yes?” he drawled, his back to her.
“Flinn,” she repeated, “why were you glad I hadn’t left?” The warrior paused, then continued undoing the buckles of the griffon’s girth strap. Still, he wouldn’t turn to her, but said instead, “How’s your shoulder? Any pain?”
“A little—not much. It itches,” Jo replied.
“Good. That means you’re healing.”
“Flinn? You were saying…”
“Saying what?”
Jo sighed in exasperation. “Unless my ears tricked me, you were saying you were glad I hadn’t left. Why?”
Flinn ground his teeth, then shook his head. He turned around, his expression serious. I can’t tease her anymore, he thought. I must tell her what’s on my mind. “I’ve decided to teach you a few things you’ll need to know to petition as squire.”
“Flinn!” the girl cried, her voice breaking an octave. She looked positively stunned. Jo took a step forward, her hands out to embrace him, but she stopped short. Flinn felt a wave of both relief and disappointment wash over him.
“Oh, Flinn!” Jo said again. Suddenly she looked out the barn door. “I’ve got something on the fire that needs watching, Flinn. I hope you like it! Hurry in!” The girl whirled out the stable and raced toward the cabin.
Flinn shook his head ruefully as she ran off. “What have I done,” he muttered to himself. Turning, he stabled the animals, tending to their ice-crusted hooves and pads. Then Flinn walked to the cabin. A savory smell wafted from the pot Jo was stirring.
“That smells good,” he said, putting some of his belongings in the cupboard by the door. “What is it?”
“Rabbit stew.” Delicately she blew on the ladle and tentatively tasted the sauce.
“Rabbit?” Flinn asked over his shoulder. “I know I had some stored vegetables, but where’d you get rabbit?”
“I trapped them yesterday.”
Flinn was dumbfounded. “You—a city girl—trapped them?”
Exasperated, she glared at him. “Don’t look so surprised, Flinn. Not all city girls are helpless, you know. Some of us do know how to hunt. There’s really no difference between trapping rabbit for the pot and wharf rat for the spit.” She turned away and began ladling the stew into bowls.
“Wharf rat?” Flinn’s voice rose. “You ate wharf rat?”
Johauna nodded. “It wasn’t bad, really. You have to eat something, so when you’ve got no money, you hunt whatever’s around. At the wharfs in Specularum you hunt wharf rat. There are worse ways of surviving. The sailors would’ve paid handsomely for… favors, but…” her voice trailed off and she was suddenly still.
Silently Flinn’s hand reached out to touch the glossy braid down her back. She moved briskly away, fetching the bread and water. He drew back his hand.
Jo faced him across the table as they sat down to the meal. “What made you decide to teach me how to be a squire?” she asked awkwardly.
Flinn shrugged, then sniffed happily. He didn’t cook very well, and the rabbit stew smelled excellent. “I… I’m not sure I know why. Suffice to say that I think you’d be a good squire, and that I think I could teach you a few pointers.”
Jo said nothing, only looking at him inquiringly.