She had lost it. She was alone. It had abandoned the girl to the darkness and the cold. She fell to her knees, unsure as to what she should do, where she should go. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed, her voice broken from disuse. The girl buried her face in her hands, flinching as tears made the fresh scrapes on her palms sting.
A twig snapped, and the forest became eerie once more. The wind stilled, and the trees stopped their whispers, becoming watchful, curious.
The girl’s head whipped up like that of a startled deer: eyes wide, darting this way and that.
Another twig snapped.
Some leaves rustled.
Hastily, the girl stood and pressed herself against a tree, hiding as best as she could. She inched around it, treading softly, hardly daring to breathe, too scared of making a sound.
The bark was rough beneath her hands as the girl steadied herself, as she gripped onto the trunk whilst she leaned to the side, peering around it. The sound of movement paused for a heartbeat, then resumed, slow and quiet. It was the footsteps of someone trying to make as little noise as possible.
A voice floated on the air, softly calling a name. A name that reverberated through the girl.
Her legs twitched with the need to run, but by some miracle, she held herself still. Her eyes scanned the forest, drifting over the twisted shapes of knotted branches and thick tree trunks.
Although the girl knew that someone was out there, she could see nothing, but she knew they were slowly drawing closer. She could hear them, sense them somehow, and she waited.
A shape moved out from the darkness, the moonlight revealing nothing more than that they were tall and armed. In their hand, shining malevolently, was a hunting knife.
The girl’s eyes locked onto them, keeping them in her sights. They crept through the trees, quiet and alert, their feet carefully placed, their head swivelling as they looked all around. The girl knew that they were searching for something. The girl knew they were searching for her.
Her blood turned to ice.
What did they want with her?
Were they going to take her back? Take her back…where? The girl couldn’t remember what she had been running from, only that she couldn’t go back, couldn't let herself be captured. Not again. Never again.
Whoever they were, they were surely a foe. Why else would they have their knife out? They must mean to use it, right?
The girl held herself as still as she could, hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to draw their attention. She was weary, her strength all but spent. She wouldn’t be able to outrun them. The girl could only hope that they’d move past without discovering her. Perhaps then, she’d make her escape once they were gone.
The girl rested her cheek against the tree, the bark as coarse as sandpaper against her delicate skin. Her rapid breaths burned her painfully dry throat as she struggled to keep them hushed, and she couldn’t help but be aware of the tremors that raked her body, threatening to send her to the ground in a boneless heap. The girl prayed to the gods, whose names she couldn’t quite recall, that her presence would go undetected.
Her prayers, though, were in vain.
Despite holding herself as still as she could, barely making a sound, the foe’s head snapped up, his eyes seeming to lock with hers regardless of the barrier of night between them.
Whilst she knew that her legs wouldn’t be able to carry her far, the girl made to run. The foe was fast. Before the girl got more than a few steps away, they were nearly upon her. Having no desire to feel their blade in her back, she spun around with one hand held out as if she could ward them off. The foe skidded to a stop, knife poised to strike, feet spread apart for balance.
The trees around them sighed, branches shuddering and parting above their heads as if moved by hands unseen. Moonlight came spilling down like an ethereal waterfall, pooling around the girl and the foe.
They were revealed to one another, the pale light just enough for them to see the barest of details.
The girl’s gaze ran over the foe, taking in his mop of messy hair, the baggy tunic and trous that partially concealed his tall, lean frame. His boots were unlaced as if he had put them on in a hurry, and as her eyes locked with his, trying to catch a glimpse of the thoughts whirling around in his head, she witnessed a shockwave course through him. His amber eyes widened and his lips parted, shaping soundless words as he took a stumbling step forwards. His hunting knife fell from numb fingers.
“Nessa?” he breathed, his voice hushed with astonishment, with disbelief.
The girl’s eyebrows pulled together, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Nessa,” he said again, sounding surer of himself, “is that you?”
The girl shook her head.
“It is,” he whispered, his amber eyes shining with emotion. “Come on, Nessa. Don’t you remember me?”
Chapter 3
The girl began backing away from him. She didn’t know who the foe was or why he talked as if he knew her. He was someone who skulked through the woods at night, armed, no less. That couldn’t be good—even if he had dropped his blade on the ground.
The foe frowned as he took in the girl’s wide eyes and her slow retreat. “You do remember me, right?”
No, the girl didn’t remember him. She didn’t remember a time before waking up on the ground, cold and alone. Her head was empty of anything and everything.
“Nessa?” The foe hesitantly stepped forwards, inching towards her as if he feared he might scare her away. He wasn’t wrong. The muscles in her legs twitched with the urge to flee, to run and hide.
“I don’t know you,” the girl croaked, shaking her head frantically, tangled wisps of hair falling across her face, her chapped lips. “I don’t know who you are.” Her throat hurt, dry as sand, and her words were little more than a hoarse whisper despite her desire to scream them.
“Of course you do,” the foe insisted, shooting her a small, uncertain grin, teeth bright and white in the moonlight. “I know I look a bit worse for wear, but it’s me, Hunter. I’m your friend.”
“I don’t know you,” the girl argued, stumbling away from him in earnest. She felt dizzy and weak, and the ground seemed to roll beneath her, threatening to unbalance her and swallow her whole.
“Ness—”
“Stop calling me that,” she cried. “That’s not my name.”
“Yeah, it is,” the foe—Hunter—said soothingly.
The girl froze.
Hunter crept closer to her.
“It’s alright,” he murmured. “You’re safe now, Nessa.”
Nessa. Was that what she was called? Was that her name? The girl didn’t know. She didn’t remember.
She couldn’t remember anything. She was no one.
The girl swallowed nervously, her throat burning as she did so. “I’m Nessa?”
Hunter nodded, messy locks of dark hair falling across his forehead.
Something deep within her clicked into place, and she didn’t feel quite so hollow, quite so incomplete. A soothing calmness settled over her, over Nessa, and she found herself stepping forwards, closing the gap between Hunter and herself.
Hunter held himself still as she looked up at him, scrutinising his features in the moonlight. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a couple of days, and he had a dusting of stubble on his jaw that still held the soft touches of lingering youth. Whilst his amber eyes were bright, weariness was etched across his face. Worry had been eating him alive for some time.
Hesitantly, Nessa reached up and cupped his cheek, his skin heated beneath her cold hand. As soon as their skin touched, she knew that his words were true: he was a friend. Any distrust and fear she felt towards him dissolved to nothing. He was a safety and certainty. He would do her no harm. Nessa sighed, relieved beyond measure.
“You’ve been searching for me?”
Voice thick with emotion, he said, “For months.”
“You’ve found me.”
His hand we
nt over hers, holding it against his cheek, keeping it in place. She could feel his growing solace, his long festering weariness. “Finally.”
“Hunter…?” His hand. It was so, so warm against hers. So pleasant.
“Do you remember,” he whispered, earnestly hopeful. “Do you remember me?”
“I…I…” Nessa wanted to lie. She wanted so desperately to lie, to tell him that her memories had come flooding back and save him from the painful truth. But she couldn’t lie, not to him. Not now. Not when he was all she had. “I don’t,” she said weakly, mournfully. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I remember nothing beyond waking up here. In this forest.”
At first, Hunter was disappointed; then her words sank in, and he became worried. Very worried. Scared. Nessa could sense all of it. She could feel the churning thoughts in his head. She could practically taste them, see them. A little perturbed, she pulled her hand back, slipping it out from beneath Hunter’s.
“I’m feeling a bit dizzy,” Nessa confessed.
“Oh?”
“The world is spinning.”
“That’s not good.”
“I think I'm about to faint,” Nessa said just as her legs buckled and black motes swam across her vision.
“That’s not particularly helpful,” Hunter mumbled, catching her before she hit the ground. With one arm around her back and the other under her knees, he swung her up, holding her tight against his chest.
As weak as a newborn kitten, Nessa wrapped her arms around Hunter’s neck as he set off with purpose. The black motes were fading, but all her strength seemed to have fled. Nessa was sure that if he were to set her back on her feet, she would simply collapse. Besides, Nessa didn’t want to be put down, even if she were strong enough to walk. Hunter was warm, so very warm against the chill of the night. His body heat seeped through the layers of their clothing, and Nessa found herself to be cosy and comfortable for the first time in hours.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her cheek coming to rest on his shoulder. The rocking motion of his steps was lolling, the softness of his tunic soothing, almost homely and familiar. It swiftly became a struggle to keep her eyes open.
“The others and I set up camp a few miles to the east,” Hunter said, voice low and quiet, and tinged with gentle optimism. “I’m taking you there. Then I’ll get you something to eat and something warm to wear, and when you’re too full to even think of food for the next week, you’ll snuggle beneath a pile of blankets and can sleep for the next two days straight.”
“That sounds rather nice,” Nessa murmured, losing the battle of keeping her eyes open.
“Well, I think you deserve it.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” Hunter said, a smile colouring his voice. “Sleep, Nessa. When you wake up, we’ll be at camp. Then we’ll get this mess all figured out.”
“Food and piles of blankets?” Nessa said wistfully.
“Food and piles of blankets,” Hunter promised.
Chapter 4
Although exhausted to a near-painful degree, sleep eluded Nessa. All she could manage was an unsettled doze. There were too many things coursing through her mind, too many unsettling thoughts. Hunter was mostly silent during their trek through the forest, concentrating on not tripping on the uneven terrain. However, the few times he had caught her looking around nervously, he would talk to her, his voice low and gentle, as if he could tell that she was uneasy and in need of soothing.
It was during the quiet interludes that Nessa wondered if her tired mind was playing tricks on her, making her hear things, strange things. She swore that she could hear whispers, voices that were too quiet for her to heed the words, voices that belonged neither to her nor Hunter, or to any physical being. Nessa felt as if the wind and trees were trying to talk to her, trying to tell her something. What they might have to say, she didn’t know. She couldn’t even guess.
Worse than the whispers, though, were the occasional beats of wings sounding out behind them. The few times Nessa had managed to pluck up the courage to peer over Hunter’s shoulder, she would see nothing but the forest’s darkness staring back at her. There was no sign of the blue-eyed raven anywhere. But she knew. Some part of her knew that it was there, following, watching. It was a shadow in a shadow.
The moon was inching behind the mountains to the north as their journey neared its end, their peaks haloed in fragile light, just visible through the trees’ branches. They were tall, stabbing high into the sky, jagged like claws. They were proud sentries, guarding over the land and forest, and as it appeared, Hunter’s campsite.
Three small tents sat nestled amongst a group of mighty trees that towered over them, tucked into the wide space between their trunks. A campfire, a handful of small flames clinging to the last few scraps of firewood, cast a warm circle of illumination in the centre of the clearing, the light only just reaching the canvas tents, making them look like strange ghosts.
Hunter carried Nessa over to the fire and carefully set her on her feet. She wobbled, unsteady, and he put a hand on her arm, supporting her, steadying her as she lowered herself to the ground. The fire was so warm on her face, on her hands, her feet. She shuffled nearer, sitting as close to it as she could, savouring it, bathing in its heat. Hunter ducked into a tent, and when he reappeared a mere moment later, he was holding a couple of blankets. He swiftly draped them around Nessa’s shoulders, bundling her up tightly. He crouched beside her and busied himself by building up the fire.
There was a pile of wood nearby, already split into manageable logs. Hunter selected a couple and placed them on the remains of their predecessors. The flames quickly caught, eager and hungry, devouring their fresh meal. Lively light flooded the campsite, making it feel a lot more welcoming. Homely, even.
Hunter stood, dusting off his hands, and gazed around the campsite. “Right,” he said, more to himself than her, “now for the food. I wonder where Orm has squirreled away the good stuff?”
“Orm?” Nessa enquired.
Hunter blinked, momentarily taken back. “Oh, yeah. I forgot you have no idea who he is. I’ll explain after I get you something to eat. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“Alright,” Nessa murmured. Orm. Was this another friend she couldn’t remember?
Hunter disappeared into one of the tents, a different one this time, and she could hear him rummaging around inside.
Nessa’s eyes ran over her surroundings, taking them in, trying to find some kind of familiarity, a hint of recognition. The campsite itself wasn’t situated in a clearly defined clearing, she realised. The forest was too old to have such a thing, but between the wide gaps of a handful of mighty oaks, their trunks at least ten feet in diameter. They towered over their younger companions, a collection of their offspring, their lower branches as thick as the middle of a grown man. The tents were small, bell-shaped, and made from a heavy canvas to ward away the chill of the autumn nights. Nessa guessed that they were just big enough to fit one person and their supplies inside.
Off to one side was a large patch of trampled earth, flattened in the centre as if a large beast had slept curled up there, not unlike a cat. A hole in the tree canopy was directly above it, twigs and entire branches snapped off. They had been dragged a short distance away, bits and pieces hacked up for firewood. An axe was embedded in one, ready to be called into action should they run low on logs.
Hunter reappeared, carrying a drawstring bag and a wooden plate.
“The cheeky git tried to hide all the food under his pillow,” he said, sitting down beside Nessa. “Now, we don’t have much, seeing as I didn’t get around to setting up my traps today…yesterday?” He looked in the direction of the moon, which was now behind the mountains, completely hidden from sight. “Definitely yesterday.”
Opening the bag, Hunter pulled out several cloth-wrapped bundles and set them down on the plate. Even before she knew exactly what was offered to her, Nessa’s mouth began to water. She watched eagerly as they
were unwrapped, revealing a selection of berries, hard cheese and some strips of jerky.
“Here,” Hunter said, sliding the plate in front of her. “Start with the berries and see how you feel. We don’t want you being sick, now, do we?”
Nessa only half-heard him, fingers plucking at the berries as soon as she saw them, plopping them in her mouth. They were juicy and sweet, ever so sweet, and her taste buds were flooded with the most glorious of flavours. Nessa’s eyelids fluttered shut as a wave of euphoria washed over her. Hunter handed her a waterskin, and when the cool liquid hit her throat, Nessa thought that she had died and gone to heaven. Water and berries, such simple things, yet at that precise moment, they felt more precious than all the gold and jewels in the world.
As the worst of Nessa’s thirst and hunger abated, she became keenly aware of a pair of eyes watching her every move. She slid a glance to her left, catching Hunter staring at her with a level of nervousness that was almost palpable. Nessa paused, a piece of jerky poised at her lips, and raised her brows in question.
Hunter blinked, shaking himself, and grinned with a touch of embarrassment. “Forgive me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl eat so much food so quickly.”
“I’m starving,” Nessa mumbled, embarrassment making her shoulders hunch beneath her cocoon of blankets. She looked down, finding that she had eaten the berries and was finishing off the last few pieces of jerky. Guilt grew. “Sorry. I should have saved more for you…and the others?”
“No worries.” Hunter batted her apology away with a wave of his hand. “Eat it all if you want. The others and I can go foraging for something later.”
“Foraging?”
“Yeah. Find some nuts and whatnot.”
“Nuts?”
Hunter shrugged. “Or mushrooms. You never know what you might end up finding when you forage.”
Nessa supposed she’d just have to take his word for it. She suddenly noticed her appetite had now fled, and she lowered the piece of jerky, no longer desiring it.
House of Blood and Bone Page 2
