The wind stung my eyes and cheeks as I stood at the edge of the ravine, tugging at my sleeves, my hair, the hem of my jacket. There was a pounding somewhere behind my eyes, the combination of too little sleep and possibly too little of my power used. The wards we’d set were weakening in the weather, hurt by our inability to get out to check on them as often as we’d have liked.
At least, I have to hope it’s that and not something more sinister. I shivered, watching the bare branches wave in the wind, silhouetted against the gray sky. It was early, too early for me to be up and out here, though the sun had already risen. The others would be having breakfast, getting set to start another day in the cold of the longest winter I’d ever known—one that was far from over.
I tugged my jacket tighter and shivered again.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
I half turned toward Rory and smiled weakly. “What are you doing out here? I figured you’d be hunkered down next to a fire.”
He shrugged slightly. “I come out in the cold sometimes to clear my thoughts. Crowded near the fires right now, anyway, and I’m not in the best of moods.”
“Because it’s your birthday?”
One corner of his mouth twitched toward a smile. “It’s good to know someone remembers.”
“I was pretty sure I was the only one keeping a calendar,” I said softly.
“I think all of us are keeping one on the down-low,” he said, then shook his head. “A last vestige of civilization, right?”
I choked back a laugh. “That and everyone’s journals and the fact that we’re not all fighting over the last piece of meat on any given night.”
“We don’t take enough deer to run out anytime soon,” Rory said, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “So I really don’t think there’s much reason for us to be fighting over things, is there?”
“I’d guess not,” I said, my gaze drifting back to the trees.
“It still doesn’t feel right, does it?” he murmured. “The ravines. Everything.”
“The wards are weakening as quickly as we can strengthen them,” I said. “We need to think of something. Something will make them stronger, make them last.”
“Have you talked to Phelan?” Rory asked.
“No,” I said softly. “Though I think I’m going to see what Thordin’s thinking, and Neve.”
“Why not Phelan?”
“Because he’ll want to come out here and see,” I said with a wry smile. “And he needs to be in bed right now and as far away from the perimeters of camp as we can keep him. We’re still afraid he’s going to try to leave.”
Rory snorted and shook his head slightly. “He’s not physically capable of it right now.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.”
“Then let him.”
I arched a brow at him and he shot me a wicked grin.
“Trust me.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m going to walk the rim. I shouldn’t be long.”
I nodded and watched him go, his boots crunching in the snow.
Why would he suggest letting Phelan try to leave? What purpose would that serve?
I frowned, hugging my arms against my chest. “Maybe,” I murmured to myself, “I ought to find out.”
I turned and jogged after Rory.
