Theea
rise to the occasion
I’m still grinning from ear to ear when Marcus and I get back, even if my ears are still ringing from being screamed at the whole way across the snow. The foxes are safe, set loose with my jacket tucked into their crate to make it warmer, and I don’t care one bit that my coat is gone. Shut up, I’m perfectly warm and not shivering.
Then
I glance down at my arms—noodles, as I so proudly announced earlier—and then at the massive timber stacked nearby. My lips purse, my jaw sets. Fine. I could do this. I glance at Marcus, and my grin sparks bright and defiant. “We’ve got this.”
I bend to grab my end of the first beam, grit my teeth, and very nearly squeak when the weight drags my arms down. I catch it barely, waiting desperately for Marcus to take the other end. Together we shuffle toward the trench, my back and arms screaming the whole way, but I manage it, step by step, until finally—blessedly—we drop it into place.
I straighten up, panting, arms burning, but flash all the boys a broad grin anyway. “Got it!”
And I do it again. And again. Helping Marcus brace each beam in turn while Deimos ’s magic packs the soil firm around them. My muscles might be noodles, but stubbornness? That’s solid steel.
Theea
got fears but I face them
