Briar nodded.
‘Big enough for two?’ she asked.
Hogroot stalks crunched as Briar pressed himself against the wall, but however far he backed away, Stela snuggled closer. She faced away, round hips pressing against him. The air in the den was hot despite the night’s chill.
Not knowing what to do with his arms, he put them around her, hands thrilling at the feel of her skin. She shifted, giving him a noseful of hair. He inhaled reflexively, and the scent of her was overwhelming. He felt movement in his breeches and tried to pull back, lest she notice.
But Stela gave a sound that was part chuckle, part growl, grinding her bottom into it. Briar groaned, and she rolled suddenly to face him.
‘You don’t hunt,’ she said, reaching down between his legs and squeezing, ‘but killin’ demons gets you stiff as any man.’
She pushed him onto his back and Briar froze, not knowing what to do. If there had been room he would have fled into the night, but the den was cramped, and she had him pinned. He did nothing as she pulled the ties on his breeches and set him free. Before he realized what was happening, she raised her hips and took him in hand, sitting down hard.
He gasped, grabbing her hips, but Stela was in control and it was all he could do to hold on as she began grinding.
‘Ay!’ Briar cried, his limbs going rigid.
Stela kissed him, biting his lip. ‘Don’t you dare!’ she growled. ‘I ent there yet!’
Briar squealed as something uncontrollable came over him. He thrashed, bucking and kicking, spurting inside her.
He expected Stela to be angry, but she gave that laughing growl and pressed down harder as he spasmed. ‘Ay, I can work with that. Hold on tight.’ She gripped his shoulder, putting her full weight on him. She scratched and bit, but it seemed right somehow, and he held her tight as she bucked against him.
They lay panting and clutching at each other, the air thick and stifling. Stela wriggled, feeling him still inside her, still hard.
She kissed him. ‘Creator be praised. Ent done by a long sight. Put me on my back.’
Briar swallowed. ‘I … I don’t …’
Stela laughed and grabbed him, locking him with her legs and rolling until he was atop her.
‘Relax.’ She kissed him again. ‘Take your time. Both got a good dose of magic in that scrap. Gonna be hard and wet all night. Might as well make the most of it.’
It was some time before they finally began to drift off. Stela clutched Briar’s arm, keeping it around her like a blanket as she snored. They lay curled together, skin melded by sweat, and Briar felt something he had all but forgotten.
Safe.
He remembered sleeping in his parents’ bed, six years old, nestled warm between them. The night he had woken and thought there was a coreling in the house. The night he stoked up the fire to drive the shadows away, forgetting to open the flue.
The night his family burned.
Briar remembered the black silhouette of their cottage, outlined in bright orange. The billowing, choking smoke that filled the air as he cowered in the hogroot patch.
Demons flitted about in the firelight, waiting for the wards to fail. The Damaj family was already screaming when they broke in the door.
Briar jerked awake, thumping his head against the ceiling of his den.
‘Whazzat?’ Stela moaned, but Briar couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on him. He had to get out. Get out or die.
He pulled away while Stela was still confused, grabbing at his clothes as he scrambled out the trap.
Outside, he could breathe again. He filled great lungfuls with the cold night air, but it never seemed to be enough. His chest constricted, muscles knotting. He paced around, swinging his arms about to reassure himself there were no walls around him.
His senses were on fire, taking in every sight, every sound. The breeze on the leaves and stalks. The quiet rustle of nocturnal life. The distant cries of demons. He was aware of everything, ready to react in an instant to any threat. His fists were bunched, and he almost wished there was a threat just so he could release the tension, building and building until he thought he would tear himself apart.
He heard the trap open and considered running into the night before Stela found him.
‘Briar?’ she called. ‘You all right?’
‘Ay,’ Briar said, though he felt anything but.
‘It’s all sunny,’ Stela said. ‘Don’t need to explain. Know how you feel.’
Briar put his back to her, peering into the night. ‘No one knows.’
‘Started to relax, ay?’ Stela asked. ‘Then remembered what happens to folk that relax. Chest got tight. Hard to breathe. Maybe felt like the walls were closing in. Had to get out into the open air, and been pacing like a chained nightwolf.’
Briar looked at her. ‘How could you …’
‘Got the flux last year,’ Stela said. ‘Half the town was falling down with it. Folk dropping candles and knocking over lamps. Fires everywhere.’
‘Fire brings the cories,’ Briar said. ‘Watch and wait for the wards to fail.’
Stela nodded. ‘Stayed in Grandda’s inn till smoke filled the room, then stumbled out into the night with my little sister and my uncle Keet. Keet was half carryin’ me, and we were slow. Demons would’ve had us …’
She turned away, breathing hard, and Briar went to her. He reached out, not knowing what to say, and she leaned into him.
‘But my sister stumbled,’ Stela went on. ‘Got her instead.’
She looked back at him, eyes wet. ‘Ent just you that hates walls, Briar. Ent just you that wakes with a jump and can’t seem to breathe. Arlen Bales talks of it in the New Canon.’
‘New Canon?’ Briar asked.
‘Brother Franq’s been talking to everyone ever met Arlen and Renna Bales,’ Stela said. ‘Making copies of their teachings so we don’t ever forget again.’
She turned in his arms. ‘Ent alone, Briar. Everyone in the Pack feels it. We’ve all lost someone, all seen up close what the night can do. Makes us different from folk in town, but we’re there for each other. Can be there for you, too, you let us.’
Briar nodded. He could not imagine wanting anything more.
Briar knew the way to the Painted Children’s camp, but he let Stela lead, drifting along in her wake. It was still dark and the magic tingled inside him, his senses on fire. He floated along, following her as much by scent as sight.
Stela. He felt drunk at the thought of her.
Briar could hear the camp a mile off. By the time they were close, the chatter of it filled the woods. There was a bark ahead, and Briar saw a huge wolfhound leap atop a stone on the path. Moments later a guard appeared.
All the Hollowers were taller than Briar, but this one towered nearly a foot over him, with biceps the size of Briar’s head. He wore wooden armour – helm, breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves, warded and lacquered. At his waist hung a three-foot spear, demon ichor still smoking against