Chapter Thirteen
Niamh’s yell moved Clía into action. She had no plan, only her sword and her desire not to see anyone die tonight.
She swiped at the creature, drawing its attention and blood. It turned to her with a deep roar. The hair on the back of her neck stood at the sound, which was death and anguish, nightmares made real.
Again, she swung. Relief coursed through her as she felt her sword make contact. But it wasn’t enough. The Sluagh swiftly struck with its claws.
Her side burned, just below her ribs. A cry escaped her as she clutched the wound with her free hand. The pain was sharp and turned her vision red, but the creature wasn’t done. It crept forward, now taking its time. Stalking injured prey. She limped backward until a tree met her back.
She was cornered.
The creature leaned in, baring its fangs. Its foul breath felt warm on her face. Clía’s sword was heavy in her hand as she stood frozen. Her breath came in uneven gasps. She could feel the blood dripping down from her wound.
She wouldn’t die like this.
Pain flared from where the creature had clawed at her. Ignoringit, she lifted her blade and, with a rushed thrust, stabbed at the closest thing she could. Again and again until the Sluagh fell to the ground.
When she looked up, Ronan was running straight at her. During the fighting, Niamh must have moved to join Kían and Ó Dálaigh on the other side of the clearing. The moment they had a break from their attackers, the three disappeared, retreating into the trees. Ronan reached Clía, handing her a half-empty pack and pulling her by her wrist. When her steps began to falter, his arm curled around her waist. The pressure only made her wound hurt more, but he continued dragging her forward, away from the Sluagh and into the trees.
Domhnall stood under the canopy with his sword out, chest heaving. Ronan passed her to him to support. She missed the familiarity of Domhnall’s arms, but she stepped out of them all the same.
“Keep running,” Ronan called, turning to hold back the Sluagh that followed them. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
One of the creature’s claws narrowly missed Ronan.
“Come on,” Domhnall urged Clía.
She steeled herself and began to run.
It was only a few moments later that she heard Ronan’s footsteps join them.
They darted through the forest, jumping over fallen trees and dodging vines, only to stop when they reached a wall of earth. Air rushed from Clía’s lungs in heavy bursts, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. The pain in her side roared with every step.
She couldn’t hear the creatures. They were alone.
Ronan turned, taking in their surroundings. “Let’s keep going.”
“No, we need to find the rest of our group. Our best chance is to fight our way out of this forest together.” Domhnall’s voice shook slightly, but his eyes held a bright spark.
Ronan searched his pack, pulling out a tinderbox and lighting his lantern before throwing the bag back over his shoulder. Clía’s eyes adjusted to the newfound light. “If we turn back now, we risk getting killed before we can reach them. We should look for shelter and wait out the night. Once the sun rises, we can find them and make our way out of the Ghostwood.”
“They might be dead by then,” Domhnall argued.
Ronan met his glare head on. “Their safety is not my concern. Ó Dálaigh is with them, and Niamh and Kían are smart. They’ll find shelter and hide out until the threat has passed. As we should be doing.”
Domhnall looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he must have seen the resolve in Ronan’s face. He snapped his mouth shut and gave a tight nod.
The wind rustled branches. The trees grew sparse around them, and the glow of the moon cast the rocks and dirt in soft blues. The jagged wall behind them might offer some protection from threats, but they were still too unprotected.
An opening in the wall beside her caught Clía’s eye. With caution, she approached. It was a crevice in the cliffside, one that traveled through the rock, revealing a small, sloping passage just wide enough for someone to walk through.
“Look,” she called softly to Ronan and Domhnall. “Maybe this could lead us to somewhere with better shelter?”
Ronan’s eyes scanned the opening. “It can’t be more dangerous than staying here.”
The winding narrow path traveled farther into the rock than Clía had expected. Eventually, the stone walls fell away beside them, and she could see above the tree line. The path widened and plateaued, leaving them on an outlook. The three of them stopped, taking in the dark sea of trees below. Clía couldn’t tell where the Ghostwood ended and the night sky began.
In front of her, more rock and dirt, with a few trees spearing the landscape. The incline grew steeper. She had to crane her neck to see the peak of the mountain, only to find it obscured by clouds.
