Tainted

Chapter Forty-Two

I wake to stiff muscles. It's a feeling I'm accustomed to, but it's still uncomfortable, especially when I know that I'll spend the rest of the day clenching my burning thighs around a sturdy horse.

"Get up," Sani snarls.

I roll over. She's standing just outside the tent, her silhouette casting a shadow over the canvas in the dim, dawn light. Surma's already gone.

Grumbling, I wiggle backwards out of the tent and into the open air. It's chilly. I pull the hood of my cloak low over my head, trying to keep in some of the warmth.

The men are already dismantling their tent. I see the final folds of it as Dem tucks it into a saddle bag.

Hot breath warms the tips of my ears. Without looking, I reach back a hand and rub James's snout.

"Good morning," I say sleepily.

James snuffles and rests his nose against my shoulder.

"Do I have to spell everything out for you?" Sani snaps. She stands with a hand on her hip, her features angular.

"What do you mean?" I ask, still rubbing James's snout. I feel his lip curl toward Sani.

Sani rolls her eyes. "I said 'get up'," she says, checking it off on one finger, "do I have to tell you to put the tent away as well? Can't you just know what to do?"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. I hang my head and drop my hand from James's snout. I shuffle over to the tent and pull it from its stick frame, folding the canvas as neatly as I can. It's hard to do one-handed, but I don't dare ask Sani for help. She stands watching me, her lips pursed in a permanent sneer.

James, to his credit, helps by gently pulling the tent posts from the ground and piling them together.

"Thank you," I whisper to him.

Sani rolls her eyes for a second time and walks away to deal with the remains of last night's fire.

I can't imagine rolling my eyes as often as Sani. I'd be worried I'd strain a muscle and my eyes would be caught forever looking off to the side.

I try not to wish that upon Sani as I tie a rope around the folded canvas to keep it together.

The only open saddle bag I see is Surma's, so I tuck the tent inside and squeeze the tent poles in beside the fabric. Surma is nowhere to be found, otherwise I would ask before using the bag. But I can still feel Sani's eyes on me, and I want to appear like I know what I'm doing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sailor waddling toward me, two bowls of steaming oats in his outstretched hands.

"Goo' mornin', Mira!" he says happily. The dawning sun splashes his face with gold.

"Good morning, Sailor," I say back, glad at least someone's pleased to see me. He hands me a bowl of oats, and I take it, smiling graciously.

"Did yae sleep alrigh'? I kno' th' lodgin's on th' road aren' th' best," Sailor says.

"Oh it's fine," I say around a mouthful of oats. They're piping hot and burn the roof of my mouth. I swallow, but all that manages to do is set my throat on fire.

"Are yae sure? Your eyes are waterin'," Sailor says, looking concerned.

"No, that's not...that's from..." I sputter. I fan my hand in front of my mouth, desperately trying to cool down my throat.

"If you wanted to get my attention, you could have just said hello," Rogue says, sidling up to Bo and me. "You didn't need to wave."

I cut him a look. "This isn't for you," I say.