HAVEN ✓

Sixteen

Sol and I spend the next hour packing my leather satchel with provisions for the coming journey. She replenishes my food rations with two loaves of flat bread, dehydrated fruits and vegetables, cheese, a few sugary clumps of whole oats, and a few strips of dried meat. When Sol informs me that we will eventually have to gather and hunt, I get the feeling this will be a much longer trip than the one to Keir.

Sol also lends me a change of clothes. She insists I'll take them for extra insulation, if not to rest my current attire: denim shorts and sky-blue tank from my wardrobe at home, which I've been wearing three days straight. Along with that, she straps a bedroll to me like a backpack.

Coen hands me a package of bandages for "just in case." I'm grateful to him for thinking of such a thing; I have no doubt that I will use it.

"Sophie," Sol takes my hand in hers. In it, she places a small, reddish-brown rock. I look at it, confused. What would I do with a rock? Not wanting to offend her, I smile and take it, slipping it into my satchel.

"Harbor no illusions," she says, grasping my hand once again and squeezing. The touch is a comfort to my growing bundle of nerves. "It will be a dangerous journey. Trust Luke. And remember what I said before," Sol's eyes pierce mine with a meaningful intensity. "Survive."

Our conversation is interrupted by a brief knock at the door. It opens, and Luke stands in the doorway, a leather bag similar to mine slung across his shoulder.

"Aunt Sol," he greets, and she leaves me to wrap him in a warm embrace. Right, Sol is Luke's aunt. His mother was her sister. I guess it hadn't occurred to me that this was the nephew Rik was talking about.

Clive practically tackles Luke when Sol releases him. Luke deftly shifts milliseconds before impact and grasps him in a headlock, grinding his knuckles into Clive's head. I smile at the camaraderie.

"Come on, Luke! I give! I give!" Clive pleads, flailing under his arm. When Luke releases him, Clive rubs his head, grimacing in Luke's direction.

"You never learn," Coen says, shaking his head in disappointment. He definitely seems like the responsible brother.

"Where's the fun in that?" Clive counters. He holds his hand out to Luke. "Here, I'll refill your canteen as a prize."

A minute later, Clive returns with the canteen and gifts me with a second canteen heavy with water. I'm hit again by the hospitality I've stumbled into when I ran into the Outlands. I dare not think of how different things would have been if I had encountered anyone else. What would happen if I had crossed paths with a Skinwalker instead?

Neither Luke nor I have acknowledged the other's presence since his arrival. The Summus ordered him to be my guide, but I guess that doesn't mean we're going to be friends.

I take the time to study the man I'll be spending the next who-knows-how-many days with. The Subter of Kier. Luke Aspen. A hunter. A man.

A man.

A different kind of nervousness is added to my anxiety. It makes me feel restless, like I need to run a mile. Or two.

While his attention is focused on securing the canteen in his pack, I inspect his figure. He's as tall as I remember, his form towering nearly a foot above me. His long, lean limbs give him the look of a swimmer. Which is ridiculous, it's not like there are swimming pools in the Outlands. But then the image of Luke cutting through the serene water of a blue lake invades my mind, and I wonder if his sun-lightened hair is as soft as it looks.

Where did that come from? I feel my cheeks warm at my own thoughts. This is no time to be checking out a near-stranger. And an Outlander at that.