Shelter From the Storm by Kate Sherwood

Author:Kate Sherwood [Sherwood, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2018-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

Kiernan had forgotten how much work it was to carry a full pack, and he’d never imagined the effort required to wade through chest-deep snow. Every stumbling step he took, every reminder from Grif to test his footing to be sure the snow wasn’t hiding a crevasse or other hazard, every time he looked toward the tree he’d chosen as a tool to measure his progress and realized it was almost exactly as distant as it had been when he’d started this horrific hike—it all made it clear that Grif had been right. It wasn’t going to be possible to travel through the mountains until spring, not for any significant distance.

And the realization brought with it a bewildering sense of relief.

He had failed. Vin had sent him on an important mission, and Kiernan had not carried it out. Kiernan’s friend, his lover, his tsarn-to-be, had needed something done, and Kiernan hadn’t done it. Couldn’t do it. He should be crushed. But instead of a weight on his shoulders, he felt as if one had been lifted off.

Metaphorically, at least. The damn pack on his damn back was still too damn heavy. But his mind was light.

He didn’t have to die. Staying alive was his first job. He didn’t have to force himself into the harsh wilderness, brave the biting cold and the horrible, endless snow. He didn’t have to be alone. He didn’t have to leave Grif behind.

No, not that last bit. That wasn’t part of it. Except in so far as Grif was, ostensibly, a human being, and humans craved the company of other humans. There was nothing special about Grif, not in any positive way.

“Turn left,” came an order from behind Kiernan, and he stopped walking and turned all the way around, starting to the right.

“You said I could go anywhere I wanted.”

“And now you want to turn left.”

Kiernan bit back his irritation. “Why?”

Grif sighed as if he was the reasonable person dealing with a petulant child. “You’re interested by that dark spot on the cliff over there. You think it might be a cave.”

“A cave?” Kiernan squinted into the glare of sun on snow. Grif had a strip of leather with slits cut in it for his eyes that he said was a good shield from the light, but when he’d offered to make another, using rabbit hide, Kiernan had refused because he’d thought the strap on Grif’s face looked stupid. What an idiot he was.

“A cave,” Grif confirmed. He waited, then said, “You think a cave might be a good place to spend the winter. You might need to use snow to build up the front wall, but if the roof slopes in the right direction, you might be—”

“Enough ‘you.’ I haven’t decided whether I’m going to be staying here for the winter. I’m still weighing my options.”

“Of course you are.”

“I am.”

“As I said.”

How did it happen? How did Kiernan find himself bickering like a child with this man? And even worse, how did he find himself almost enjoying it?

“So you would like to go and investigate that dark spot on the cliff.

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