Just as Thalina began to feel the warm fuzz of safety crawling into her bones—like maybe, just maybe, she'd found a moment to breathe—the thought slammed into her like a hammer.
Eyrx.
Her spine stiffened. Her arms instinctively curled tighter around Vanora's fluffy body.
Eyrx was injured. Bleeding. Weak.
Her heart punched her ribs from the inside. How could she have forgotten?
"What is wrong with me," she muttered, blinking rapidly. The scents of roasted root and firewood were suddenly nauseating.
She had been so caught up in the weird, smothering affection of these village women. The gossip. The bath. The embarrassment. The pregnancy—
Her face darkened, and her thoughts coiled into each other like a ball of twitching worms. If she really was pregnant, that would explain a lot. Her mood swings. Her appetite. Her irritability. She'd eaten five times the amount of meat she usually touched. She felt heavier. Slower. Hungrier.
