Twenty-Two

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As we continue uphill, the wind picks up even more, gusts hitting us head-on with the force of a battering ram. With it, the woody aromas blast our noses and muffle our ears with its rushing fronts. After a while, my face starts to sting from my hair whipping around me, and I long for a pony-tail holder from home. I gather up a handful of the locks and try to stuff it under my collar, but after a minute or so, it snakes its way out and begins thrashing all over again.

I let out a frustrated grunt and go back to shoving the strands out of my eyes when Luke extends something toward me.

"Elastic is hard to come by, but this should do," he says. He is holding a long strip of fabric, twisted into a kind of string. He shifts behind me and takes my hair into his hands. Goosebumps immediately rise across my flesh when his warm palm caresses my ear. His lithe fingers comb gently along my scalp, smoothing the hairs into uniformity before tying the fabric off.

"That should hold. If the knot comes loose, just let me know and I will re-tie it." He grins at his handiwork and my hand lifts to discover that he has not only secured any fly-aways, but he has tied it off in a bow.

If anyone in Herald had asked me to list the things a savage Outlander could do, tying a girl's hair in a bow was not one of them.

But Luke is full of surprises.

"Thank you," I tell him. And I mean it. "You're always helping me with the littlest of things. Bandaging me up, letting me sleep, giving me a say in how we proceed with this journey, tying my hair back for me. All of it... I appreciate it, Luke. More than you know. More than words can express."

Luke seems shocked at my words as much as I am. It's true, I am exceedingly thankful for his presence, but this feels different. It is as though there is more than understanding between us. There is friendship. Someone to have your back. I have not felt alone since we began this journey, and it is all thanks to Luke. I will have to find a way to repay him.

"You are most welcome, Sophie," Luke murmurs. His low tone is almost lost on the wind, but I still feel the warmth of his voice wrapping around me, stirring up butterflies in my stomach.

Atingle, I nod toward the up-slope, eager to get moving again and scared as to what prolonging that moment would bring.

The climb is much easier now that I can see. After a while, I can see the gray clouds ahead between the treetops. We hike up the side of the mountain for another half hour before I feel a fat raindrop land right on my head. I open my mouth to tell Luke that we should begin to search for shelter when the boom of thunder peals above our heads. I yelp, unable to help it.

Ahead of me, Luke snorts.

"Don't you dare laugh," I say. I don't have to see Luke's face to know he's smiling at my outburst. He turns, and sure enough he is barely holding back laughter at my expense. I kick up the leaves, flinging dirt in his direction. It does little in terms of retaliation, but it makes me feel better.

The act makes Luke burst out into full-blown laughter. Okay, so maybe I was being immature. It's not long before I begin giggling along. It feels good to laugh—freeing, even. Too long has passed since I last felt my belly ache with laughter, my cheeks sore, stretched with a broad smile.

Just in those few seconds of distraction, the rain had begun to fall exponentially faster. I watch as Luke's hair darkens and presses flat against his forehead, heavy with moisture. My gaze focuses on the droplets sticking to his cheeks and making rivers down his nose. His eyes are yet bright against the darkening sky, and he blinks lazily, as if in slow motion.

My heart hurts. It feels as though the devil himself set my chest ablaze. The laughter has faded, but something else has taken its place, something as tangible as the hungry look he pierces me with. It makes my stomach feel as though it may float away without me.

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