her jacket. She looked around the room before sitting at the table.
“I can sleep on the floor, really,” she said. “You don’t have to—”
“Pull-out bed,” he said, spilling some of the soup on his beard. He gestured at the wall that separated the living room and hallway. “It’s up right now.”
Skyla wasted no time digging at the bottom of the pot with her ladle, hoisting up a pile of meat and vegetables into her bowl. It almost overflowed as she shoveled food into her mouth. James’s eyes followed her movements.
“You’re from the river.”
She shook her head, her mouth still full. “Bollingbrook.”
“Bollingbrook? And you walked to here, and now you are walking… all the way to Lassimir?”
“I have Orrin,” she said. “I should throw him a scrap.”
She began to get up, but James stopped her. “Don’t. He’s spooked and you’ll only draw raccoons and possums.”
“But he’s hungry .”
“He’s a crow,” James said. “They’re scavengers. He’ll be fine out there.”
A gust of wind buffeted the building from outside and Skyla gave him a plaintive look. She sat back down with a huff and stared out the window for a moment.
“He’s a raven.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not,” she said. “Ravens are much smarter.”
“Well, if he’s as smart as you say, then he’ll be fine.”
James finished his meal and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He cleared the table in silence. Skyla looked around the interior of the cabin as he took the dishes to a basin in the back. She considered stealing a piece of meat for Orrin, but stopped herself. She had probably overstayed her welcome as it was.
She got up and walked to the couch, covered in a variety of animal skins, so inviting it made her body ache. Her eyes burning, she removed her shoes. Her toes creaked and cracked as she flexed them, cringing through equal parts pleasure and pain.
Rain had begun to crawl horizontally across the windowpane, carried by the shrieking wind. Had Orrin been visible right then, it would have broken her heart. She tried to imagine him somewhere safe.
James emerged from the kitchen wearing a white apron. Skyla stifled a surprised giggle as he wiped his hands on a dishrag.
“Not sure what the hot water situation is anymore, but you’re welcome to use the tub.” He walked to a closet and threw a flannel shirt over a chair. It was big enough to fit her like an overcoat. “You can dry your things by the—oh. You already got your shoes drying. Good.”
She scooped up the flannel shirt and dashed into the washroom as James continued to bang around in the kitchen. The copper tub she had been eyeing earlier was every bit as wonderful as she imagined. The water was lukewarm, but still more than adequate. She soaked until she was shivering and the water turned opaque.
As she dried herself, she found it peculiar that no more noise came from the main room. In fact, the noise from the kitchen all but ceased once she drew the bath. She crept closer to the door and pressed a wet ear up against it. There was suspicious shuffling. Placing a delicate grip on the handle, she cracked the door enough to see.
Her wet clothes were laid out along the floor in a neat pattern. At first this pleased her that James had been so thoughtful, until she saw him standing over them. His back was hunched and as she watched from the door, his shoulders heaved with a great sob.
He’s crying , she thought. Why is he crying?
Had she been such an awful guest? He might be disturbed to live this far out in the middle of nowhere. No family, no friends… no neighbors. She felt a chill begin to work its way down from her scalp.
Or if he’s crazy , she thought. He’ll kill me in my sleep.
Then, cast from the glow of the woodstove she saw his shadow dance, a slow, sad lapping of waves and kelp at his ankles. She felt herself drawn to it.
He took a step back and walked over to her rucksack. He opened it. He
“I can sleep on the floor, really,” she said. “You don’t have to—”
“Pull-out bed,” he said, spilling some of the soup on his beard. He gestured at the wall that separated the living room and hallway. “It’s up right now.”
Skyla wasted no time digging at the bottom of the pot with her ladle, hoisting up a pile of meat and vegetables into her bowl. It almost overflowed as she shoveled food into her mouth. James’s eyes followed her movements.
“You’re from the river.”
She shook her head, her mouth still full. “Bollingbrook.”
“Bollingbrook? And you walked to here, and now you are walking… all the way to Lassimir?”
“I have Orrin,” she said. “I should throw him a scrap.”
She began to get up, but James stopped her. “Don’t. He’s spooked and you’ll only draw raccoons and possums.”
“But he’s hungry .”
“He’s a crow,” James said. “They’re scavengers. He’ll be fine out there.”
A gust of wind buffeted the building from outside and Skyla gave him a plaintive look. She sat back down with a huff and stared out the window for a moment.
“He’s a raven.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not,” she said. “Ravens are much smarter.”
“Well, if he’s as smart as you say, then he’ll be fine.”
James finished his meal and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He cleared the table in silence. Skyla looked around the interior of the cabin as he took the dishes to a basin in the back. She considered stealing a piece of meat for Orrin, but stopped herself. She had probably overstayed her welcome as it was.
She got up and walked to the couch, covered in a variety of animal skins, so inviting it made her body ache. Her eyes burning, she removed her shoes. Her toes creaked and cracked as she flexed them, cringing through equal parts pleasure and pain.
Rain had begun to crawl horizontally across the windowpane, carried by the shrieking wind. Had Orrin been visible right then, it would have broken her heart. She tried to imagine him somewhere safe.
James emerged from the kitchen wearing a white apron. Skyla stifled a surprised giggle as he wiped his hands on a dishrag.
“Not sure what the hot water situation is anymore, but you’re welcome to use the tub.” He walked to a closet and threw a flannel shirt over a chair. It was big enough to fit her like an overcoat. “You can dry your things by the—oh. You already got your shoes drying. Good.”
She scooped up the flannel shirt and dashed into the washroom as James continued to bang around in the kitchen. The copper tub she had been eyeing earlier was every bit as wonderful as she imagined. The water was lukewarm, but still more than adequate. She soaked until she was shivering and the water turned opaque.
As she dried herself, she found it peculiar that no more noise came from the main room. In fact, the noise from the kitchen all but ceased once she drew the bath. She crept closer to the door and pressed a wet ear up against it. There was suspicious shuffling. Placing a delicate grip on the handle, she cracked the door enough to see.
Her wet clothes were laid out along the floor in a neat pattern. At first this pleased her that James had been so thoughtful, until she saw him standing over them. His back was hunched and as she watched from the door, his shoulders heaved with a great sob.
He’s crying , she thought. Why is he crying?
Had she been such an awful guest? He might be disturbed to live this far out in the middle of nowhere. No family, no friends… no neighbors. She felt a chill begin to work its way down from her scalp.
Or if he’s crazy , she thought. He’ll kill me in my sleep.
Then, cast from the glow of the woodstove she saw his shadow dance, a slow, sad lapping of waves and kelp at his ankles. She felt herself drawn to it.
He took a step back and walked over to her rucksack. He opened it. He
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