by Denali Day
A fine place for a grave.
Swallowing, she glanced at Sven.
Or two.
On an inhale, Colette thrust back her shoulders and started down the now gentle slope of the dirt-packed ground. “Oh? And what do your people get out of protecting foreign strangers?”
Sven’s footsteps kept pace behind her. “Those who succeed are given a name, and the right to claim a bride.”
“The women of your clan must be thrilled.”
“Not usually at first.”
“What? With such considerate, hospitable men like yourself to tend to them?”
“You wouldn’t mind my hospitality. My tending even less so.”
She choked on a short-lived laugh. Awareness made her lower her voice. “Was that your grand scheme? Make me your bride?”
“I didn’t know you’d be such a thorn in my ass.”
Colette clenched her fists. “Well, let me relieve you. I’m to be married to someone else.”
Just as he was stepping over a fallen branch, Sven hesitated before resuming an even stride. “That poor man.”
“On the contrary, he finds me utterly alluring.”
“Then I’m sure his eyes are intact. But, tell me, is he hard of hearing?”
Colette's mouth flattened into a tight smile. “In fact, he possesses all his faculties. Why, he can even find willing women to wed him.”
“He sounds like a prize. I’m sorry to deprive you of him.”
Better here than there.
Had she really just thought that? Colette frowned. She was currently roaming through the Twist with only a savage who had kidnapped her for company. And yet, she felt oddly exhilarated, even more so as she verbally sparred with the cocky male who, if she was honest with herself, was delicious to look at, scars and all. Perhaps she should remind them both of their tenuous relationship.
“Yes, he will be worried about me but get me out of this forest, savage, and I might ask my father not to take your head.”
“How generous.” The bastard actually smiled. “I’m dying to know, are all women where you come from as bloodthirsty as you?”
“Only ones who can put a barbarian on his back.”
“Oh, little hellion, anytime you want me on my back, you just say the word.”
That was it. She was done talking to him. The barbarian had an answer for everything and, damn him, for the time being, she’d run out of retorts. How unlike her. It had to be this godsforsaken place. The atmosphere was getting to her. She’d wait a while until she’d adjusted, then she’d rally.
You win this round, barbarian. Enjoy it while it lasts.
For the next few hours, Colette took it upon herself to make life as inconvenient for him as possible. If he walked left, she veered right. If he stopped to inspect something, which he often did, she continued on. Once he caught up, she’d take great pleasure in drawing shrub branches forward as she passed and allowing them to whip backward, occasionally catching him in the face. At one point, she realized the way she sneezed irritated him, so she was sure to develop a sudden rash of hay fever. Colette observed the tense set of his shoulders with gleeful satisfaction. How much longer before he snapped?
Eventually, the sound of water drew both their attention until they were walking faster and faster, their thirst driving them on. Colette froze when she saw the creek ahead. The steep embankment cut a good ten feet downward, barely leaving a place to safely stand or collect a drink. Oblivious to her hesitation, Sven drew forward and wasted no time hopping down, his big hand gripping a nearby branch for support.
Colette crept up to the edge and, leaning back, peered down. Her companion was crouched low, scooping up water and bringing it to his face.
She bit her lip. “Are you sure it’s safe to drink?”
After a long swallow, Sven answered, panting, “It’s not like we have an alternative.”
Arms crossed over her chest, she nodded once. A few more drinks and Sven held a hand up to her. A sudden, terror-filled image flashed across her mind, and she took a hasty step away. “Don’t pull me in.”
Sven stilled, his brow furrowing. Then a devious smile played at his lips. “Why? Do you think you deserve it? Can’t say I disagree.”
“Just…don’t.”
Something in her voice must have caught his attention because his smug demeanor melted away. Sober faced, he nodded and reached back up to her.
After a breath, Colette accepted his help, though the muscles in her body were painfully rigid. Huddling against the creek-bank wall, she clung to Sven’s ankle with one hand and drank with the other. Was her fear obvious? Or was he a typical, inattentive male? Gods, she hoped so. When she finished drinking, her ears were thoroughly red. She couldn’t climb back up the bank fast enough, and as soon as she crested the top, she skittered several yards away.
As she walked, the sudden buzz of coin-sized flies had her swatting at the air. One flew directly at the side of her head, its drone drowning out the sound of her own startled yip. Flailing her arms, she began running, but the insects only seemed to grow more numerous until the air in front of her was a thick, swarming curtain. She started to scream, but choked when she felt the brush of opaque wings against her lips.
An arm swooped around her waist and hauled her to the side. Knowing it was Sven, she hurried in the direction he pulled until the din of the flies died down to a distant hum.
“Swiving hell!”
“For Regna’s sake, keep your voice down, woman.”
“I hate this place!” she gritted, obeying, despite herself.
He shoved something into her palm. “Stay here.”
Looking down, she saw that he’d returned her dagger to her, the wooden handle damp with creek water. She hadn’t actually expected him to return it to her. Swallowing, her gaze flicked up.
“Where are you going?” She took a step after him until it became clear he was headed straight back into the filthy swarm. “Sven, what are you doing?”
“They gather at something’s corpse. I’m going to look at it.”
“But of course. Why not?”
Ignoring her, he continued on, until his figure dissolved into the screen of flying vermin. Still uneasy, Colette hissed after him. “Great. Just wonderful. Maybe you’ll find a pretty new tooth for your collection. Why, you could even stir things up a bit and take its balls. They seem more your fashion anyway. They’d go nicely tied around your neck. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Silence.
Pacing, Colette clutched at the bowstring slung across her chest. “Sven! I am not coming in there after you!”
When he finally emerged, the paleness of his face quickly robbed her of any relief. Arms extended, she took a step toward him. “What is it?”
“It’s a bear. It’s been slaughtered...” he seemed to weigh his words, “...messily.”
Colette’s skin chilled. “What killed it?”
“I have a few ideas. We need to keep moving. The smell will draw scavengers.”
Chastened, Colette nodded and walked with him along the creek bank, though she was careful to keep Sven between it and herself. The shadows grew deeper as they went along, the strangled daylight succumbing to the grip of dusk.
With heightened senses, Colette began to pay attention to the kind of things that drew Sven’s attention and caused him to linger from time to time. Tree-bark scratches several inches thick, muddy tracks the size of cartwheels. Each sign heightened her own wariness and soon it was all she could do to follow Sven and keep an eye open for small game she might hunt.
By the time they stopped, they’d found nothing to eat, but then, nothing had found them either. Colette decided she couldn’t complain. Not about food, at least. What disturbed her more was their total lack of shelter.
Sven dropped his axe and sat against the trunk of a cabin-thick tree. “We’ll sleep in shifts to make sure nothing can sneak up on us.”
“Shouldn’t we start a fire?”
&nb
sp; “No. Not unless you’re certain there’s nothing in here that’s attracted to light.”
Did that mean they’d have eaten her kill raw? Colette was almost grateful she’d seen no prey. Walking several feet away, she leaned her bow against the tree.
Sven patted the ground next to where he sat with knees propped up. “Come sleep here. I’ll take first watch since I already had such a refreshing nap today.”
Colette eyed the spot next to him. She’d never slept so close to anyone before, much less a grown man. She thought of the claw marks in the trees and took her seat. The moment her bottom touched the ground, bone-deep weariness overwhelmed her. This had been the most harrowing day of her life and now she had a feeling she was about to experience her most terrifying night. She sank down to the cold dirt and presented the savage with her back. With her elbow tucked beneath her head, Colette welcomed sleep.
It didn’t come.
Lying still, the noises of the forest around them were suddenly amplified tenfold. Had she thought this place quiet? Something hissed and splashed into the bubbling creek nearby. A falling branch clattered to the ground. Overhead, the leather wings of bats rustled. Though they were long gone, Colette could still hear that horrid buzzing of flies in her ear. The high-pitched wailing of some distant creature finally made her eyes pop open. She twisted to glance back at Sven.
“If you touch me tonight, I’ll put my dagger in your eye.”
He was sitting casually against the trunk, axe slung across his lap. “Can you do me a favor and make it my ear?”
Colette huffed. “You’ve been warned, savage.”
“That I have. Now go to sleep. We need to get started as early as possible tomorrow.”
Something was breathing. Or was it a whisper? Whatever it was, it was deep and heavy, seeming to fill the entire forest. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore it.
Eventually, she spoke, trying her best to sound annoyed. “What’s making that sound?”
“Which one?”
“The—” She searched for the right word. “Moaning one.”
“It’s the wind.”
“There isn’t any wind in here.”
“Above the canopy. It catches the branches and bends the wood. It pulls a moan deep down to their roots.”
Colette’s shoulders relaxed the barest of inches. Then she frowned and turned over so she was facing him. “Isn’t it driving you crazy?”
He kept his eyes on the woods. “No. It sounds like home.”
“I thought you said you live in the mountains.”
“I do. We sleep in caves. Underground, there’s an ever-present hum. We call it Helig’s Song.”
He had a pleasant voice. So long as he was talking, Colette could ignore the lurid orchestra all around her. “What’s living in a cave like?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
She fiddled with the sleeve of her coat and fought the impulse to squirm. “I’m sure savages can get used to anything. Maybe if I were wild like you, I could just ignore it.”
“Stop talking, Colette. I know it’s hard for you, but you’ll fall asleep faster.”
Thwarted, she turned back over and tried to focus on the sound of her own breathing. The better part of an hour stretched by, and though she was exhausted, she was no closer to sleep than she’d been at the start. On top of it all, she was getting cold. How she longed for her featherdown bed and the security of her chamber’s four stone walls. Swiving hells, right now she could even be grateful as a guest in Lord Myron’s household. At least the chattering of her teeth was mildly distracting.
Something settled over her back, and Colette jumped, only to relax when she realized it was Sven’s forearm. He was using her like an armrest, and his heat covered most of the length of her body. Was he keeping her warm on purpose? Or simply making himself comfortable?
His low voice cut into her thoughts. “The men you ride with, who are they?”
“My father, and my five older brothers.”
He didn’t seem the least bit fazed by her proclamation, which was mildly irritating. Most people showed a modicum of wariness that she had so many, presumably, loving male protectors at her disposal. As well they should.
“How come you’re the only woman who ever goes on the hunts?”
Colette paused, her mind working. “You’ve been watching me? For how long?”
She could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “A few weeks.”
No shame. “And you chose now to abduct me because?”
“You were alone.”
“Strange. I wouldn’t have figured a man who can bend a wyvern to his will to be so cautious.”
“And I wouldn’t have figured a woman clever enough to set a trap in the sky foolish enough to ride into the Twist alone.”
There was no reproach in his words. In fact, Colette had the vaguest sense that he found one action as intriguing as the other. Pride warmed her from the inside out, and her lips curved into a soft smile.
She was beginning to drowse when something occurred to her. He wasn’t urging her to be silent. In fact, he’d started this conversation so nonchalantly, it was obvious he’d known she was lying awake. Was he trying to put her at ease? She considered the intentional nuisance she’d spent the day making of herself and felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe tomorrow she wouldn’t snap branches in his face?
Before she could talk herself out of it, Colette leaned back so that she was tucked closer into his warm side. She sighed. That was better. So long as he was obliging, she’d continue to pelt him with questions until she managed to drift off.
“How did you tame your mount?”
“Nerve and a lot of patience.”
She yawned. “Do all the men where you come from have winged steeds?”
“Those who don’t die, yes. It’s our first rite of passage, the one that marks us as men.”
Incredible. Colette didn’t try to hide the awe in her voice. “How many rites are there?”
“Only one more.”
“What’s that?” Her eyelids began to droop. “Castrate a demi-god?”
Sven chuckled. “Something far more perilous.” He flexed his fingers across her hip. As Colette faded off, she thought she heard him mumble. “Regna help me.”
5
A haunting shriek, unlike anything Colette had ever heard, echoed through the early-dawn forest. Beside her, Sven woke with a jolt and was on his feet in a shadowy flash.
Colette’s throat went dry as parchment. “What is that?”
The stillness of Sven’s body as he listened made Colette’s panic rise. She went still, too, turning her ear toward the haunting sound. She’d been terrified most of the night, the barbarian’s strangely comforting presence the only thing that kept her from running hysterically through the woods. Despite her fear, her watch had been uneventful, and Colette eventually relaxed, resting a hand over Sven’s shoulder just to assure herself she wasn’t alone. Now her savage was tense as a bowstring and that didn’t bode well for either of them.
Colette glanced up at the canopy, searching for the morning sun. Her stomach leapt into her throat. The trees had moved overnight. She was sure of it. This was not the same forest she’d fallen asleep in. Did Sven notice it, too? She turned to ask when the howling noise rose up again, making the hairs of her arms stand on end. Her jaw snapped shut. They had bigger concerns.
“Get up. We have to go.” Sven reached down and plucked her up by the arm, his face still turned toward the trees. In the subdued light, Colette could just make out the deepening lines of his face.
“The creature, it can’t be too close, right?” Colette didn’t even know what ‘it’ was, but she needed Sven to agree with her. The sound had come from miles away. Surely, they were safe from it. Surely.
“Anywhere is too close.”
Not much had seemed to shake this man before. What could have him so anxious now? She didn’t want to find out. Colette turned west and started to hurr
y when Sven’s hand clamped firmly around her wrist. She turned just in time to see him set his eyes on the thick canopy above and let out a series of rapid whistles so loud she wanted to cover her ears. Her brows drew together.
“What are you doing?”
He answered without looking at her. “Calling my mount.”
Colette’s stomach seized, and she tore her wrist from his hand. “What?”
He whistled again, and Colette’s hand went to her knife. Her mind raced. Should she stop him? Urge him on? She didn’t know. Colette wasn’t usually an indecisive person, but then, she’d never been in such a terrible situation. What exactly were her options?
Sven whistled again, the gnarled branches of the trees seeming to absorb the noise. He muttered something in his language that must have been a curse then grabbed at her wrist again.
“We need to move.” He tugged on her, making her stumble through the brambles and across filthy quagmires.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, hoping the anger in her voice concealed her utter panic.
“We’re being hunted.”
“That creature must have been miles away.”
“It’s a brujit. It will catch up to us.”
A brujit? Vague snippets of memory crested the surface of her mind. The brujit were said to be men who’d fed on their own kind until madness took them and evil twisted their bodies. Though they ate anything they could find, their hunger was supposedly insatiable and the flesh of men their deepest craving. Colette’s brother, Willam, said that one had been defeated outside the village of Windslope. They’d cut open its belly only to find the decomposing body of a young child, swallowed whole.
Her mouth fell open. “How do you know?”
“I’ve seen one before. Its stride was longer than you are tall, and it’s smart enough to track us.”
“What makes you so sure it will?”
“Because we’re its favored prey.”
