He grinned. “Birds of a feather. ”
With their nerves settling, they ate a quick meal of cheese and dried fruits they’d packed from Marron’s. Then they wrapped themselves into their blankets and sat against the planks, listening to the wind stir the branches around them.
“Do you have a girl in your tribe?” Aria asked.
Perry peered at her, his pulse picking up. It was just about the last question he wanted to answer. “No one important,” he said carefully. That sounded terrible, but it was the truth.
“Why isn’t she important?”
“You know what I’m going to say. Don’t you?”
“Rose told me. But I want to hear it from you. ”
“Mine is the rarest Sense. The most powerful. It’s even more important for us to keep our bloodline pure than it is for other Marked. ” He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. “Crossing Senses brings a curse. It brings misfortune. ”
“A curse? That sounds archaic. Like something out of the Middle Ages. ”
“It’s not,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
She thought for a moment, her small chin jutting out. “What about you? You have two Senses. Was your mother a Scire?”
“No. Aria, I don’t want to talk about this. ”
“Actually, I don’t either. ”
They fell into silence. Perry wanted to reach for her. He wanted to feel like he had for the past day, with her hand in his. But her temper had become weighted, cool as the night.
Finally she spoke. “Perry, what would I scent now if I were a Scire?”
Perry closed his eyes. Describing their differences wouldn’t bring her any closer. But neither would refusing to answer. He inhaled and then he told her what his nose told him. “There are traces of the wolves. The scents of the tree carrying a winter tone. ”
“The trees have a winter smell?” she asked.
“They do. Trees know first what the weather will do. ”
He already regretted speaking. Aria bit her lip. “What else?” she said, but he scented how it hit her, all the things he knew that she didn’t.
“There’s resin and rust on the iron nails. I scent the remnants of a fire, probably months old, but the ash is different from yesterday, with Cinder. This is dry and has a taste like fine salt. ”
“And yesterday?” she asked softly. “What did that ash smell like?”
He peered at her. “Blue. Empty. ” She nodded like she understood, but she couldn’t. “Aria, this isn’t a good idea. ”
“Please, Perry. I want to know what this is like for you. ”
He cleared his throat against a sudden tightness. “This shack belonged to a family. I scent traces of a man and a woman. A stripling—”
“What’s a stripling?”
“A boy on the cusp of becoming a man. Like Cinder. They have a scent that can’t be ignored, if you get what I mean. ”
She smiled. “Would that be your scent?”
He put his hand to his heart, pretending to be stricken. “That hurt. ” Then he grinned. “No doubt, yes. To another Scire, my appetites must raise one skunk of a reek. ”
She laughed, dropping her head to the side. Her black hair spilled over her shoulder. Just like that the night cold vanished.
“I would know all that if I were a Scire?” she asked.