"You were right. I don't need to tell you that, but . . . yes, my family . . . " He trailed off. "I only know simple things, though, like how to start a fire or close a wound."
She nodded and then glanced over. He was frozen there, braced for a reaction, for questions.
"I'll tell no one," she said, and then she turned back to the bird.
She plucked out three feathers--smaller ones from the chest and one large one from the wing plumage.
"Trophies?" Gavril asked.
She gave him a look. "That would be dishonorable. A warrior--or a Keeper--is not supposed to take pride in the kill. It's proof. Otherwise, no one will believe we met a thunder hawk."
He nodded. "Here, I'll carry the large one. My pack is bigger."
He reached out. His fingers were trembling slightly. He gave a soft, nervous laugh. "As you see, you weren't the only one frightened by that thing."
"I thought a warrior wasn't supposed to admit fear."
He met her gaze. "I know you'll protect my secrets, Keeper."
"I will." She pushed to her feet. "Now, let's see if we can find dry wood somewhere to build a fire. Rain was perhaps the last thing we needed."
"At least your face is clean now."
"Perhaps, but it did absolutely nothing for this." She lifted a handful of her knotted, soaked hair.
"We'll get that fixed. Come on, then. Gather your pack and we'll go."
Thirty-six
Moria had argued most strenuously for the obvious solution to her hair issues: chop it off. Gavril refused to permit it. Ashyn would be upset, and Moria would have to answer to the court Keeper and Seeker, perhaps even the emperor. Clearly, the emperor had far too little to do if he'd concern himself with a Keeper's hair, but she ceded Gavril's point. Or she did when he offered to help come up with an alternate solution.
The basic methods--a single braid or tie--were perfectly acceptable for daily life, but did not control her locks when battling anything of substance. Additional braids would help, but took time, and would likely give her welts when they whipped about in battle.
"I fail to see how you'd think I'd be an expert in this matter," he said as she finished brushing out the snarls.
"You've been to court. You've seen the women's styles."
He snorted. "I'm not sure which is more amusing, Keeper: to think you believe I spent much time in court, or to think you believe I'd waste any time there looking at women's hair."
"True," she said. "There are probably far more engaging sights if the rumors are true, about how little some of the court women wear."
"The women of court are not to my taste."
"You have a taste?"
A glare. "No, I have better things to occupy my mind, in and out of court."
And that, she mused, was truly a shame, but sadly not unexpected.
He continued. "If I have any knowledge of women's hair fashions, it comes from my mother, which won't help you at all. Your hair could not be more dissimilar." He paused, then hunkered down, tilting his head. "There is a style I have seen some men wear, those with your sort of hair. Men too vain to cut it short."
"Vanity is not my issue. I would gladly--"
"Yes, yes, I know. Which is why I'm devising solutions. What the men do is braid the sides, perhaps a hand's span of hair, then tie them together. The back stays untethered, but as long as the sides are held, it seems to work."
"Unless I get caught in a thunder hawk's talons again."
"I'm trusting that's a once-per-lifetime experience. Now, take the hair . . ."