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himself.
    “Please, Eirn?”
    “Right,” I murmured, shooing him sideways. He had enough strength to roll to his favorite position—on his side—and I shed my sheet and climbed in next to him. He wrapped his burly long arms around me, and I clung to him, furnace-heated skin and all, and prayed that should Hammer die this night, that I would die with him, and our bodies would be found just like this, twined together like roses that had grown together for too long.
     
     
    The morning found him no better but no worse. I helped him to the privy, and he asked me with wonder where I’d found the wherewithal to wring our clothes out to dry and hang them on a line above the tub, and I told him, with a little bit of wonder myself, that I hadn’t; the cottage had done that all on its own, thank you very much. He’d laughed and then blessed it gravely, with more soberness than I’d give him credit for.
    He must have still been a little loopy from the fever because he looked at my surprise and said, “A storm, a forge, or a magic cottage, Eirn, it all deserves our respect, don’t you think?”
    I agreed with him, and made a point of thanking the cottage myself when I went in to fill the tub for him.
    I made the water warm—not to scalding but warm enough to match the heat of his blood and not make him shudder. I wanted his arm to have a long, clean soak, and then the cooling water to pull his body heat with it.
    I checked on him periodically, as I made us breakfast and unpacked the meager contents of our knapsacks. I took out my book of science and my notebook and put them on the small end table by the bed. I took the hammer and our knives and put them in the drawers in the kitchen. In a fit of whimsy, I took out the small stuffed bear that I’d had as a child, and that Hammer had rescued for me as we ran, and put it on the bed, as though this were our home and we had time for such nonsense.
    When that were done, I folded our clothes. I stacked the first armload of them together on a dresser, and then went back for another armload. When I came back, the drawer itself were open, and there were several new sets of linen small clothes, and I were so happy, I near to wept.
    I put mine on, then went and pulled Hammer out of the cooling water. He hadn’t started to shudder yet, and his arm were smaller and cooler to the touch, and that did bring tears to my eyes. I hid them from Hammer, though. I didn’t want him to know how worried I’d been, because then he’d know how sick he really were.
    He were a fractious patient—didn’t like me helping him into his things, didn’t like that I put him right back to bed when we were done, didn’t like that I set to making the house to rights without him. It were to the point where I had to laugh or snap at him, so of course, I snapped at him.
    “Dammit, Hammer, I just hauled you through a week’s worth of fuck-all wilderness to get you some place that might not kill you! Do you think you could just lay back and get better already?”
    “But how long, Eirn? I put a price on your head, whether I meant to or no. How long are we going to sit here and wait for someone to collect it?”
    I blinked, and then I did laugh. “Hammer, this place doesn’t even exist in our time. It’s late fall outside, and we were trudging through the dead of winter. For all I know, we’re not growing any older while we’re here either! Enchanted cabinets, clothes that fold themselves, and a whole other season; I don’t think the constable of our unremarkable little town is going to come banging on the bloody door any time soon!”
    Hammer blinked and wobbled where he stood next to the bed. I drew closer to him (as I had backed up to yell at him—it only seemed polite) and put my arm around his waist to help him into bed.
    “Besides,” I said softly, “the price on our head is justly mine. It were for my defense. Now come on,” I urged. “Just lay down and accept that we’re safe.”
    He