Chapter 14b

                                    

                                          
Jastin returned with a small clay pot of . . . something.
                          
"It's a salve for your feet. So those cuts don't get infected," he said.
                          
"Oh, thank you. I can do that." I reached for the pot.
                          
He moved it out of my grasp. "No. You sit right there and finish your—" He glanced at my plate. "Oh, you already did."
                          
Eating like an emaciated wolf. That was another point. I ducked my head. I couldn't imagine what kind of horrendous impression I was making.
                          
"Don't move." He fetched a large basket and set the whole thing next to me. "Take whatever you like, as much as you like."
                          
He removed the square of cloth covering it, and my mouth watered at the bounty. An entire loaf of bread, more apples, and hunks of dried meat. I forgot all about my feet and tore off a large chunk of bread. An involuntary moan escaped my lips as I chewed. 
                          
He smiled and fetched a bucket of water from under the table, setting it next to my feet. Then he reached for my leg.
                          
"You don't have to do that," I said, reluctant to let a stranger touch my feet. I was, after all, serious about my personal space. "I'll take care of it." I reached for the bucket.
                          
He slapped my hand away and went for my leg again.
                          
"Jastin."
                          
He looked up when I said his name. His eyes caught me by surprise. I already knew they were like Siena's, but up close, I could see they were a little bluer. But no less intense. I wondered if it was an Iceling trait, to be able to see clear into a person's soul. 
                          
I forgot what I was going to say, and he resumed his task by first rolling up one muddy pant leg, then the other. His movements were careful, as if dealing with a wild animal. The water in the bucket made sloshing sounds as he dipped a washcloth and wrung it out. He began wiping my shins, and I couldn't help feeling self-conscious. He was a stranger, after all. Maybe even a handsome one.
                          
After tossing the cloth into the bucket, he picked up my foot—his hands felt cold from the frigid water—and dunked the entire thing into the bucket. He watched for my reaction. Since I was almost back to my old self, I didn't mind the cold.
                          
I had mixed feelings about Jastin washing my feet. I didn't know him, and wasn't used to people touching me. But it felt nice. And awkward, at least for me. I shoved another chunk of bread in my mouth to distract myself. Somehow, washing my feet felt more intimate to me than his hand on my face yesterday.
                          
When he finished, he dried my feet with another cloth, and then retrieved the little pot.
                          
"I can take it from here," I said, and tried to retrieve it again.
                          
He had an amused look on his face when he turned to me. "You are an independent one, aren't you?"
                          
I hadn't thought about that. One more point. "I kind of have to be," I said cryptically.
                          
His head listed to one side, but he didn't press for an explanation. He simply said, "It's not a bad thing."
                          
Really? I smiled and cheerfully retracted the point from my list. Then I reached for the pot again.
                          
He yanked it away. "Stubborn too."
                          
That one I already knew about. I sighed and started gnawing on a piece of dried meat.
                          
He removed the lid and dug a gob of the salve onto his finger, then touched it to my foot. I was unprepared for the blast of pain, and nearly choked on the meat as I grunted through clenched teeth.
                          
Jastin looked up apologetically. "You have a swollen laceration here." He tried again, carefully spreading the salve over it. "How could you possibly have walked so far on this?"
                          
My hands clutched at the material of my pants while he worked. "The snow must have numbed it," I said, trying to keep the pain out of my voice.
                          
"You have the soul of a warrior."
                          
A proud smile plastered my face, and I distracted myself with another apple.
                          
I blew out a breath when he finally finished his ministrations and wrapped both feet in bandages. He sat back, and I inspected his handiwork. The wrappings were tidy and secure as I wiggled my toes. "You did a very nice job. Thank you."
                          
He stood up and glanced at the basket. So did I. 
                          
I winced with embarrassment. The only thing left were a couple of apples and a single strip of dried meat. I'd scarfed the entire loaf of bread and everything else.
                          
I couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Umm . . . I hope you weren't hungry." 
                          
"Sember."
                          
I looked up at him then, liking the sound of my name on his lips more than I should have.
                          
"You are a guest in my house, and therefore welcome to anything in it."
                          
I looked at the basket again and told myself I would refill it when I could. I was no freeloader, and I was not about to single-handedly clean out someone's food stores.
                          
Goben suddenly burst in through the front door. 
                          
Thank goodness. Maybe he could save me from further embarrassment.
                          
"Squirrel! You're awake!" His face radiated happiness.
                          
Or he could embarrass me further.
                          
He dumped an armload of wood by the fireplace and strode over to wrap me into a fierce hug. I squeezed him back, every bit as relieved that he was well.
                          
Jastin raised an eyebrow. "Squirrel?"
                          
"There's a cute story behind that," Goben offered as he pulled away. "When Sember was five—"
                          
"Goben! Can I have a word with you?" Why did he insist on talking about me to someone we just met?
                          
He cast Jastin an apologetic glance and sat next to me. Jastin excused himself and went outside.

                          


                          
Three parts to this chapter. A quick vote before you get to the last part?