Free Eyes of Crow by Jeri Smith-Ready Page B

just a ‘termite’ to her.”
    “Mali’s frightened.”
    “How dare you?” Lycas’s glare nearly set her on her heels. “She’s as brave a warrior as I am.”
    “And you’re scared, too. You’d be crazy if you weren’t. But being brave isn’t about cramming your fear deeper inside you. It’s about bringing it into the light.”
    His eyebrows rose. “You’re one to talk about facing fears.”
    “I know. I made mistakes in the past because I was afraid. I won’t do that again.”
    Lycas laughed and turned back to his work. “Bravery’s a habit, little sister, and you’re definitely not in the habit.” He glanced at her crestfallen face but didn’t retract his statement. “Sorry, but it’s true. I have faith in you, though. You’ll find a way.”
    A warmth enveloped Rhia. “Thank you.”
    He shrugged. “Mother told me to be nice to you or she would find a way to nag me from the Other Side.”
    “Good.” Rhia’s foot nudged the paw of the biggest, fleshiest rabbit. “This one’s rather scrawny.”
    Lycas rolled his eyes at her. “Take it.”
    He even let her have the bag. As she turned to walk home, Nilo appeared in the doorway of their hut. She held up the bag and waved. Her grin broadened at the sight of his scowl.

09
    T he landscape was swollen with winter’s first snow the day Arcas visited Rhia.
    Nearly a month had passed since she had last seen him, during a chance meeting in town. They had each brought animals to market—she a pair of young hound bitches and he a ram and a ewe—and had been too distracted by business to speak more than a few words. She sensed that a few words would not suffice to discuss the distance that had grown between them since her mother’s death.
    When she lay alone in bed at night, her thoughts no longer turned by reflex to his face, his arms, his body, except to imagine them lifeless on a battlefield. Gone were the memories of summer heat between their skins.
    More often she meditated on Galen’s lessons, pondering the mysteries of life and death. She drifted to sleep amidst images garnered from the Spirit World, where pain subsided and anguish disappeared. She welcomed the numbing cold of winter and saw the season’s first snowstorm as an excuse to remain at home, inside, cozy and safe.
    Now Arcas appeared on her doorstep, and he looked anything but cozy and safe. The hood of his fur parka gave his head a bestial appearance, and the chill air had flushed his face a wild, meaty red. He looked past her.
    “Is your father home?”
    “No, he’s gone to see if Silina’s family needs any help after the storm. Their roof leaks sometimes, and her husband is too sick to fix it.” She smoothed her hair, wondering if she looked as unkempt as she felt. “Did you come to see him?”
    “No, I just wanted to know if we were alone.”
    She opened the door all the way. Arcas stomped the snow from his boots before stepping into the house. He laid his outerwear near the fire to dry, then without further ceremony, pulled her close to him. She tensed.
    “What’s wrong?” he said. “Are my hands cold?”
    “No. But now is not a good time.”
    “Not the right moon? I thought—”
    “Can we just sit and talk? It’s been so long.”
    “Of course.” Arcas moved toward the bed in the corner, still holding her hand. She pulled out of his grip and sat at the table. Instead of joining her, he reclined on the bed and gave her a steady, seductive gaze.
    Something inside her stirred, and she felt drawn to him, not with a lover’s attraction, but with the compulsion of one under a predator’s spell. She turned away to pour herself a cup of cold water. A mass of melting snow floated at the bottom of the pitcher.
    “Would you like some?” she asked Arcas without looking at him.
    “Please.”
    She slid the pitcher down the table. After a few moments, he got up and sat across from her.
    “I’m sorry if I’m pushing you,” he said.
    “You’re not.”
    “What I