Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 12

He was cooler!

Over the next hour, she watched as Joshen sweated out the last of his fever. His body relaxed. Finally, he let out a long, deep sigh.

"Thank the Creators," she said with relief. Too tired to feel anything but a numb joy, she collapsed beside him.

***

Senna awoke to find sunlight drenching the room in gold. As though pulled by some unnatural force, she rolled over and her gaze met Joshen's. She swam in the sea of his gray-blue eyes. "Joshen?"

His brows wrinkled and he sounded battered, as if he had been dragged behind a horse. "Senna?"

She threw herself onto his chest. "You're okay," she sobbed.

He weakly embraced her, his arms patting her bare shoulder. "Well, of course I am. Hungry as a half-starved horse, but other than that ..." he trailed off as Senna's sobs increased. Gently, he pulled her back. "Senna, what's the matter? And why are we in the same bed?"

She shook her head, wiping her tears. "You've been sick."

His brow creased. "For how long?"

"This is the third day."

His eyes widened.

She smiled and pressed her palm to his cheek. She felt giddy, like she could dance and sing and cry all at once. "You said you were hungry. I'll go make you something."

Outside, she threw on one of the borrowed dresses before hurrying to the kitchen to prepare an herb stew.

Pogg came in dripping wet, a fish wriggling between his clamped jaws and a starfish tucked under his arm. The Mettlemot grinned broadly at her. She winced. It wasn't like a human smile. Pogg must have known people widened their mouths to show they were happy. So he did too. But it didn't have the same effect.

Feeling guilty for her reaction, she smiled weakly back. Even still, he seemed genuinely happy as he handed her the fish. "Other does better. Fish makes strong." He tossed the starfish to Bruke, who immediately tore into the chewy treat.

Senna figured Mettlemots must be like a seal or walrus, hunting in the seas but living on the land. She felt a surge of fondness for the creature. "I'm not sure Joshen should have meat yet," she said gently.

Pogg looked at her oddly. "Fish makes boy strongs. Gives him strengths."

She debated. Joshen hadn't had solid food for days. Better to start small. But perhaps some fish broth would help. She cut the meat into chunks and dumped it in a pot with the herbs.

"Fish," she mumbled as she set the entrails on a plate for Bruke. "I'm so sick of fish I could eat a whole steer." But as far as she could tell, the island had nothing else. Not even chickens.

She strained meat from Joshen's bowl but left hers alone. Joshen slid eagerly back on the bed as she came into the room. She handed him the bowl and sat beside him. One look at her soup and he traded his for hers. Before she could argue, he gulped down half of it. With a sigh he leaned back against the wall. "Senna, I'm sorry."

Examining his broth with distaste, she set it down on a side table. "For what?"

"For using my knife on the kelp. I didn't understand, I—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips. Her skin tingled at the contact. "Shh. You didn't know. No real harm done."

Joshen nodded and gulped a few more swallows of soup. Already, his eyelids drooped heavily.

Senna stood. "Rest for a while. By tomorrow, you should be able to move around."

Finishing the rest of the bowl in one gulp, Joshen nodded and scooted down in the soft covers.