Free Spirit of a Hunter by Sylvie Kurtz

bit.”
    Sabriel crouched before a metal trunk the color of dried blood under the focused beam of his headlamp. His hands gripped the decorative brass corners with a ferocity that turned his knuckles white. He closed his eyes and bent his head forward as if in prayer.
    His hands shot across the lid, then hesitated above the brass clasp. With an explosion of breath that sounded as if someone was peeling his skin, he ripped the clasp open and threw back the cover. The crack was like a seal breaking, releasing the scent of cedar into the air. He pawed through the contents, though she could swear he saw nothing, then shoved pants, fleece and long underwear at her.
    “These should fit.” He shut the lid with a decisive snap. “You look about the same size.”
    Anna. Nora’s throat dammed. He was giving her Anna’s things. He’d kept them all this time, and now he was handing over his treasure. Her heart went out to him. She hadn’t realized that helping her would force him to rip open so many wounds.
    From what Tommy had told her, the Colonel had ruined Sabriel’s promising Army career after he’d eloped with Anna. Sabriel had barely survived the Colonel’s vengeance. And helping her was pitting himonce again against the Colonel. She would have a lot to make up to him once Scotty was safe.
    She gave a small nod. “Thank you.”
    Sabriel grunted and strode toward the front of the cabin.
    She trotted after him. “No, I mean it. I appreciate…everything.”
    “If I’m going to drag you through the mountains, I don’t want you holding me back because you’re cold and your fancy boots are slipping all over the place.”
    “You’re right.” The words rushed out, afraid she’d made another mistake, afraid he’d leave her behind. “I’m sorry.”
    Sabriel located the oil lamp on the lone shelf flanked by two cupboards. The flame from his lighter sparked the wick to life, throwing the single room into a soft light that erased the sharp corners and wrapped them in a cocoon that felt too intimate.
    “Dress in layers,” he said, his voice strangely thick, and headed toward the door.
    “Where are you going?” A quick march of panic trampled her chest.
Don’t leave me alone
.
    He slanted her a wry smile. “Want me to stay for the striptease?”
    Heat rushed up her neck and pooled in her cheeks. “Uh, no, that’s okay.”
    “I’ll go chase the skunks out of the outhouse while you change.”
    Skunks? He had to be joking. “It’s not going to work.”
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “Scaring me. I’m not going back. Not without Scotty.”
    He shook his head, the tilt of a smile and the gleam of approval quickly hidden as he turned the headlamp back on before heading out. “Tommy always said nothing could scare you.”
    He had? Wow, she’d put up a really good front then, because everything scared her. More than she’d like to admit. Not even sleep could guarantee her a respite—not with the recurring nightmares chasing her awake, drenched in sweat. In them, she’d find herself alone, cowered in a dark corner, shivering as the sordid sounds of the night echoed in her skull, in her bones, in her blood, waiting, praying, begging for her mother to come back.
    But she’d survived. She’d found a way. And for Scotty she would again.
    “Tommy’s right.” Her chin kicked up. “Nothing you can say or do will scare me.”
    The click of the door closing was her only answer.
    She stacked the borrowed clothes on the table and took off her leather boots, wool slacks and cashmere sweater—peeling away the layers of Nora Camden until all that was left was Nora Picard, who had survived the streets of Boston and fought to make a life for herself. Even though she’d lived surrounded by comfort at the Camden estate, part of her could never quite silence the insecurity of her childhood. She didn’t want that fate for Scotty.
    She wanted this over. She wanted Scotty safe. She wanted her quiet life back—imperfect as it