The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 17 - Tale of Tales

Night fell quickly, turning the haze around their ridge-top campsite from downy grey to thick, smothering dark. It reminded Lhara of crawling under a wool blanket and pressing it around her head. The little campfire ate through lichen quickly. Soon the flames began to sputter and burn low between the stone. It would be a cold, wet night for certain.

That was why, when Jath tucked himself against the rocky wall at their backs a short distance away, Lhara was too tired to even hesitate before closing the gap between them. She felt the Factionist stiffen in surprise when she slid down to lean firmly into his shoulder.

"I'm a whole lot warmer than the stones are," Lhara said by way of explanation. A gust of cold wind came whistling through The Teeth, further proving her point. "The fire won't be able to help us for much longer."

"Of course..." Jath did not sound very at ease. He remained tensed beside Lhara. Then he shifted himself upright as if trying to accommodate her and her comfort, meager as it was.

Lhara sighed in exasperation, looking up. "It's not my head that was nearly split open like an egg, you know." When Jath didn't seem to understand, she huffed again. "Here, let me."

A little bit of rearranging ended up with Lhara's shoulder more even with Jath's, their cloaks tightly tucked about their arms and their heads meeting somewhat in the middle. Lhara could already feel the knot threatening to tighten on one side of her neck, but at least they both could prop each other up instead of relying on the hard rock. And, most importantly, she could feel the Factionist's body heat against her own. Even summer nights in the highest reaches of The Teeth could be as cold as early winter.

Jath remained rigid, if warm. Even as Lhara watched her breath begin to even out in long puffs of fog through her nose he did not relax. It made her yearn for Marden's broad, comfortable arms. The resulting lump in her throat made her foggy breath hitch abruptly. She struggled not to cry over her brothers yet again. It was one thing to huddle next to a traveler for warmth on the road...quite another to start sniffling on a stranger's shoulder. With some effort, Lhara let out a long, slow breath through parted lips and tried to sleep.

OoOoO

Some time later Lhara was awakened by screaming. Half-shrill, half-growling, the din echoed off the faces of The Teeth all around. It was a horrible sound, but not one Lhara was unaccustomed to; a catamount, or mountain cat, yowling for its mate somewhere off in the distance. Her first instinct was to go check that the sheep were secure. Then Lhara remembered where she was, and that there was no flock to guard.

Something clamped down hard on her forearm, startling a yelp out of Lhara. A leather glove creaked, and she realized that Jath had her arm in a death-grip.

"What is that?" A whisper came from the darkness beside her head. Jath sounded petrified.

"You've never heard a catamount's cry before?" Lhara asked.

"I have."

"Then why such a panic?" Lhara flexed her hand. Seeming to realize how tight his grip was, Jath immediately let go. "The red cats are shy creatures; they won't bother us."

The catamount screamed again, and this time it was answered. The pair's wailing growls could have been either a single league or twenty away from where they sat, the mountains made it impossible to guess. It was too dark to see Jath's face, if his face could have been glimpsed past the hood of his cloak. Lhara could hear his quick, shallow breathing though.