464 Broken promise_3

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The clothes held no smell of long-standing mildew—only a faint scent of medicinal herbs intermingled with a touch of bitterness.

They were a bit tight, the hemline reaching only to the knees, but they could fend off the cold nonetheless.

Anton Cook felt the coarse fabric—it was somewhat stiff and cool, like the inexplicable wind in these mountains.

Against his body, cold and hot, ice and fire, a feeling as intense as if it could destroy everything in its path, swept over him.

He figured he must look quite pathetic at the moment, but it was the closest he had ever been to her.

Forget it.

Anton Cook closed his eyes, ridding his mind of these wild thoughts.

Aubree Groove treated him with trust, so he couldn't possibly offend or disrespect her.

Heavens no.

Aubree Groove roasted some potatoes and boiled a pot of warming soup.

Kelly Martinez swore that it was the most refuse-like meal she had ever eaten in her life, but she still relished every bite.