She tips her head at me, but I still don’t meet her eyes. “How do you know all this?”
With a shrug, I reach into the basket and pull out a roll of cotton. Seems I’m using a lot of this lately. I’ll need to get more next time I go shopping in Wysteria.
“When you’re on your own,” I say quietly, “you have to learn how to care for yourself.”
Taking the roll of cotton, I start to slowly wrap it around Lyra’s wrist, noting how bird-thin it is, like one pinch of my fingers could crush it.
I’m careful, tender. And I try to ignore the heat in my stomach at the feel of her skin against mine.
For one whole week, I almost didn’t think of her. I thought I’d gotten it through my head that there can’t be—isn’t—anything here. I’m just doing what anyone else would do—helping someone who needs it.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
My mind having wandered, I can’t recall what she’s referring to. I glance at her. And it’s a mistake, because her vibrant red eyes are so close to mine that I can see the thin bands of gold around her pupils, can almost imagine myself falling into the galaxy that is her gaze.
I clear my throat and quickly finish wrapping her wrist, tucking the end of the cotton into itself so it doesn’t come unwound. “Do I like what?”
Her lips quirk up on one side. “Being alone.”
“Oh.” I reach up and scratch my beard—anything to distract my hands and my mind. She’s perched right here on my couch, her muddy boots are sitting outside my door, and this is starting to feel much too intimate. Inappropriate. Maybe even dangerous. “Uh, yes.”
The hesitation was a mistake. Lyra picked up on it, if the arch of her brow is any indication. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I stand and grab my basket of medical supplies, fingers flexing around the handle.
“Hmm.” She regards her wrapped wrist, then looks around my hut again. “I don’t.”
It seems like she wants to keep talking, so I linger. “Why?”
The quirk of her lips falls away. A ghost of pain flickers across her face as she shrugs. “I get lonely.”
“Don’t you like your own company?” I ask.
Her laugh is lacking in humor. “Not particularly.”
Words rise onto my tongue, and they spill out before I have the good sense to swallow them down. “Well, I do.”
She lifts her eyes to mine. The power in her fiery gaze has my chest squeezing.
How is it that a tiny fire witch has me feeling so vulnerable? It’s been years since I felt so exposed, so... laid bare. And all she’s doing is looking at me.
“I find that hard to believe,” she says at long last.
Part of me wants to push back, to tell her that despite her whining and random flares of fire, she’s actually fun to be around. In a weird way, of course. But this time my brain catches up before I can make yet another mistake, and I shrug instead of speaking.
There’s the sound of claws clicking across my scuffed wooden floor, and the red fox appears from my bedroom, where he ran off to when I opened the door and he smelled Lyra. When he sees her, he freezes.
Her brows rise, her lips opening in surprise. “Who’s this?” she asks. Moving slowly, she gets off the couch and sinks to the floor—though she’s careful not to use her wrapped wrist.
“I found him in the woods a while back. Had a paw injury. I’ve been nursing him back to health. He’s almost ready to go home.”
The fox regards Lyra with a cautious stare. She holds her fingers out, unhurried, letting him choose whether or not to approach. And slowly, he does. He inches forward, one paw still wrapped in a bandage, and sniffs her hand. Then he allows her to scratch him beneath the chin before whirling around and vanishing back into my bedroom once more.
Lyra sits back with a smile. And I wish she wouldn’t make that face around me. I think I prefer her scowls and eye rolls; her smiles are much too perilous.
“Wow. That was so cool. I’ve never met a fox before.” She tips her head thoughtfully. “Well, that’s not totally true. One of my roommates, Alina, has a snow fox companion, Yuki. I’ve never met awildfox though.”
I lean against the wide doorway leading from the sitting room into the kitchen. “There are plenty around here. But they’ll only show themselves if they trust you.”
