and a hoodie pulled over that, he shook his head, more to clear it than anything else.

“Go back in the house.” He kicked the maul aside, moving past her, heading around the shed. She’d broken his reverie and he was in a sour mood now. He needed to do something to steady himself.

“No.” She followed him, watching as he withdrew his bow and quiver. “You said there was a lot of work to do around here. I can help.”

Silas went back out behind the shed, ignoring her as she trudged alongside him. There was a target set up against a tree in the distance and he pulled an arrow, aiming, trying to focus.

“Wouldn’t a gun be more efficient for hunting?” Jolee chimed in just as he let the arrow fly. It threw him off and he swore under his breath, drawing another arrow.

“Too noisy,” he countered, pulling his bow again and breathing deep, centering himself.

He could hear her stamping her feet in the snow next to him, bouncing a little to keep warm, her breath coming wispy white streams, and he found himself unable to concentrate. Putting his bow down, he turned to look at her, frowning.

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She pursed her lips for a minute, blinking those big dark eyes at him. Then she shrugged.

“That’s okay. You’re right, if I’m going to stay here, I should help you.”

“Maybe when you’re all healed up.” He nodded at the bandage on her forehead. It was smaller, but the wound underneath was still considerable and she was going to have a scar, no matter how many careful stitches he’d applied-he’d lost count after the fifteenth.

“Well there has to be something I can do.” She threw up her hands, exasperated.

“Besides, I’m going stir crazy staying in the house all day reading Guns and Ammo and watching you check in on me when you think I’m sleeping.”