[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]
The sky was growing darker, though the wind had barely picked up at all this close to the ground. It was almost enough to set Thordin’s teeth on edge as soon as he emerged from the darkness of the corridor, headed back to the fire where he knew slowly the others would gather before the storm hit—the storm and whatever it brought with it—or didn’t bring with it, as he dearly hoped the case would be.
When he reached the fire, though, the only ones there were there were Matt and Hecate and three of the five infants that had been born to their little community. He blinked, looking between them—the baskets holding Tala’s twins, Hecate with Thomas Merlin in her arms, Matt with his warhammer strapped to his back.
Matt must have heard him coming because he twisted slightly, arm loosening from around Hecate’s shoulders as he looked back over his shoulder toward Thordin.
“Something like that,” Thordin murmured, making a beeline for the coffee he could see sitting near the fire. “She said she’d stay where she is.”
Hecate’s gaze followed him, her brows knitting. “What are you two talking about?”
Thordin shook his head. “Just Sif.”
“Oh.” Hecate leaned back, her hand drifting down to pick up the mug of coffee sitting on the ground near her hip. It was as if she didn’t require more explanation than that, which was silently a relief.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Doing whatever needs doing,” Matt said, then shrugged. “That’s all the answer I’ve got. I’m kind of puzzled, too. Actually, I’m starting to wonder if they all know something we don’t.”
Thordin sat down near the baskets with the twins, peering down at each of them in turn. Kurt was awake, but Gwen was fast asleep. His heart gave a little bounce, imagining a future that suddenly wasn’t so far out of grasp for he and Sif.