“It is decided,” Grey Feather said, stabbing his staff into the ground. “We shall depart before the sun rises. We have a day’s ride ahead of us, but we’ll move like ghosts. They won’t be expecting us.”
Overcome with fear, I turned to Roman and grabbed his sleeve.
“What if I never see you again?” I whispered.
“Olivia, please don’t say that. You have nothing to worry about. We have the advantage—rifles, spears, weapons of every kind. We’ll be all right.” His gaze bore into mine. “I’m a man of honor, you know this. I’ll return to you—you have my word.”
A placating smile crossed his face.
My jaw was set in stone, and I shook my head.
“Olivia,” Roman hissed. “I’m going to fight. We must do this for the sake of the tribe. Dancing Fire would have wanted this. He would insist we fight to protect his people.”
“If it’s any consolation, Little Moon,” Grey Feather said, “we’ll attempt a peace treaty first.”
That did sound better, but the words did nothing to quash the anxiety looming in my heart.
I said little about the topic the rest of the day, but my fears got the best of me at night. I tossed and turned by Roman’s side, hoping I didn’t disturb him.
In the middle of the night, a hand jostled my shoulder.
“Olivia,” Roman said.
“What? Huh?” Somehow, I must have managed to fall asleep. “Is it time?”
I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
Roman crouched before me, his face lit by the glow of the hot rocks in our stone pit. Red and black markings had been painted on his face, giving him an expression of ferocity.
“Yes, my love. But I’ll return to you soon. I’m certain this will be nothing much.”
“Then why are you dressed like a warrior, not a peacemaker?” I said as worry gripped my mind in its vice-like clutches.
“It’s symbolic, nothing more. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll return safely to you,” he said. “We have luck on our side…the moon is nearly full and will light our way. They won’t suspect we’re coming. Remember—I’m heading out to protect you and our baby.”
He stroked my abdomen through my thick fur robe.
“I just… I just…” I clamped my mouth shut. There was no need to send him out the door on a note of fear and anxiety. “Be safe. Come back to me quickly.”
I forced a smile.
“I will,” he said. “Keep your knife with you at all times.”
I patted my thigh through the furs. “Always. My dagger and gun are always here.”
He gave me a quick kiss and pulled away as if to depart.
Some desperate longing welled up inside me, and I grabbed his arm, yanking him toward me.
He fell to his knees beside me.
“Don’t go. Not yet.” Tears moistened my eyes as I hooked my hand behind his neck and drew his face toward mine.
As our lips connected, I clung to him, a wretched sense of anguish flooding my veins. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to stay with me.
He thrust his tongue inside my mouth like a snake, flicking against my desire. The warmth of his body bathed my torso in bliss while my back felt cold, chilled by my fears of what was to come.
His tongue kept probing, relentlessly seeking something from me I didn’t know how to give.
