His one arm goes tighter around my waist as the other hand lifts to push wet strands of hair off my face. The warmth of his body seeps through my drenched clothes, and I’m powerless against a happy groan. Hugging Warner after sitting cold and wet in a tree is equivalent to slipping into a sulfurous hot spring.

“You can’t make those kinds of noises around me,” he grumbles, even as his lips threaten a smile. But it drops away again. “What were you doing?”

“Tr-trying to stay safe.” The chattering of my teeth begins to slow as more of Warner’s body heat soaks into my chilly limbs. I worry that I’m stealing it all, but my concern isn’t enough to detach from him. “I w-was being stalked b-by a wolf-bear.”

“What’s a wolf-bear?”

“A demonstration of m-my inability to d-distinguish animal noises.”

“Zoey.” At the tone of his voice, I glance up at Warner, noting that he seems to be battling amusement and frustration. “Normally, I would find your roundabout answers adorable. But right now, you need to be very clear. Why were you up in that tree?”

“That’s as clear as I can b-be! I heard something growling. It m-might have been a bear. It might have been a w-wolf. I didn’t want to hang around to find out. So, I climbed the t-tree.”

“You think it could’ve been a wolf? Did you see any of it? Do you know what color it was?”

Color?

“If I s-saw it, I wouldn’t be referring to it as a wolf-bear, would I?”

He nods, but his attention isn’t focused on me like it was a moment ago. Right now, he’s more concerned with scanning the trees, as if my animal stalker might still be lurking in the shadows, even now.

I really hope not.

Despite the warmth of him, another shiver quakes through my body, approaching a ten on the Richter scale. The rattling is enough to regain Warner’s attention.

“Let’s get you home and warm.”

No argument here.

He shelters me under his arm, and we dive back into the underbrush.

Time drags on longer with rain pouring down, every footstep a squelching mess. The cold numbs all the edges of me. My fingers, the tip of my nose, the tops of my cheeks, and my toes.

Hell in a handbasket, my toes. They ache terribly before all sensation disappears.

This is how trench foot starts.

When we break through another cluster of trees, Grandma Minnie’s cabin finally comes into view. A few tears might leak out at the sight, but there’s no way Warner will notice with my face already drenched with rain.

Once we’re on the porch, the overhang blocks most of the rain.

“Do you see B-Bruce?”