His two smallest toes definitely had second-degree burns, and actually were starting to blister. He twisted his lips into a frown. "No. It'll be annoying to walk on though," he muttered.
She dug through her saddlebag and threw a jar at him along with a roll of gauze. "That'll help."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James hadn't been ready for the medical supplies to be thrown at him, so they bounced off his arm. He looked down at the jar and gauze, up at Tasha, then back down. He grabbed the jar and started twisting the lid open.
She just shrugged. "Yeah, well, my packs need to get lighter."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James paused as he dipped his finger into the jar, and slowly, deliberately turned his head to look at her with the most piercing, done gaze he could muster.
He hadn't asked for help. He hadn't asked for medicine. She had literally no reason to make an excuse for helping him as if it was an inconvenience or a chore.
She ignored him and patted her horse, speaking to the beast quietly and comfortingly.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James sighed quietly and returned his attention to his foot, quickly rubbing the herbal medicine on his toes and wrapping the end of his foot.
Under the bandage, it still stung a little, but it felt snug and secure, so he put on his sock and his boot followed. As he got to his feet, he picked up the gauze and the jar, and walked up to Tasha, holding them out to her to return them to her.
"Thank you," he said again, though his voice was emotionless.
"You're welcome," she grunted, putting it into her pack.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Once Wolfsbane comes back we can use her nose," she said. "If they stick together they shouldn't be too difficult to track. I specialize in finding wers, remember? Even if I'm not trying to kill her I should be able to find her, and Ari with her."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
It didn’t exactly comfort him that she specialized in finding wers, but he did hope her dog would come back to track them down. He nodded and hummed in response.
Tasha took the saddle and bridle off her mare, letting the beast calm down and graze before she sat down against a tree.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James sighed, and after a brief moment of standing and looking out into the forest followed Tasha’s example and sat by a tree across from her.
What followed was a long silence that spanned over an hour. He knew it had to be at least as much when the sun started to creep over the horizon. Wearily, he looked up through the trees as the sky was filled with hues of orange and pink against the pale blue. The stars faded away to be replaced by small whispy clouds, and the air felt clear, as opposed to humid for once.
Tasha’s dog was still nowhere to be found, but James kept his nerves to himself, remaining quiet as he rested against the tree.
Tasha gazed up at the fading stars, mind drifting back to simpler times. Times of family. Times of safety. Of home.
She glanced at the bearded man beside her. She still wasn't sure what she considered him. An ally? A friend? An enemy? A comrade? Some part of her yearned for something more than...this. Whatever standoffish, distrusting, forced semi-tolerant relationship. If she was honest, it'd been a long time since she'd had any friend aside from her dog, her sword, and her horse.
And she wasn't even sure what more she could do to keep him from hating her. Ari was friendly enough and Amy's distrust was perfectly acceptable - after all, Tasha had tried to kill her. But James...James confused her.
Finally, as the sun rose and the sky turned more blue than pink, she broke the long silence. "What the Hell is it that you want from me, huh?" she demanded. "I surrender, I fight alongside you, I save the werewolf, I bring back weapons, I grab your a** out of the grasp of acidic f***in' baboons and put my life and my animals' lives in danger for it, and you still hate my guts."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
As James’s peaceful spacing out was broken by Tasha’s sudden accusation, he found himself genuinely surprised. He stared at Tasha with wide eyes, having been unaware that when she joined them she might’ve actually been desiring companionship and connection.
In all fairness, he had treated her with distrust ever since he met her, but he’d believed it to be reasonable. He hadn’t had a reason to believe her to be trustworthy - or at least, he’d convinced himself he had no reason to. Maybe it was just her aloof nature, or the fact that she’d tried to murder a perfectly innocent girl, but he’d fallen into the habit of mistrust, and it was never something that came quickly to him.
Were he pretending to be Liam, it would be different, of course. But Tasha recognized him from the start from his wanted posters.
“I don’t hate you,” he replied calmly, though his tone was soft. “If it helps, it’s not personal. I’m slow to trust most people despite the circumstances. You’re no exception. That’s not to say I’m ungrateful for you putting your life on the line to escape, but I tend to be wary of anyone who knows my true identity. It’s the only reason I’m still alive today.”
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