Amo
My mind is racingafter spending the night severing the heads of walking corpses and perfecting my aim on moving targets.
Not that it’s an uncommon occurrence for either to happen, but right now my head is winning the competition for whatever race it thinks we’re in.
It’s still dark, though the dawn has just begun to break, the sun’s light barely fighting off the cloud coverage as it squeezes between the many leaves and branches.
Not that it can be seen through the thick canopy covering most of the sky from my vantage point.
Huffing, I roll over and try not to think about the last time Wilson cleaned his bedding as I pull the thin blanket to my chin.
It’s still not enough to kill the chill skittering over my damp skin with its icy fingers.
I knew washing off in the waterfall was a bad idea.
I also try not to think about the number of bodies slain at the base of this tiny tree fortress, dismembered and rotting away in their new tomb. Though, I’m assuming Wilson and Moros will move them once he returns since they weren’t piled up when we got here.
I’ve never seen so many at once.
If this is what Wilson has to put up with each night, I can see why he’d need reprieve from the solitude and the fighting.
But … does he eat the bodies like the commoners suggest back home?
“Why are the birds screaming?” I mutter to the water-stained wall, half convinced that Moros is going to ignore me, and I am in no way surprised that he sighs heavily.
“Go to sleep.”
“But why are they screaming?”
He growls, the creak of his boots signaling that he’s crossed them from his lounged back position in the chair. “It’s how they sound out here. Now sleep.”
That does not answer my question at all.
I’d normally agree and let it go, but the squawking that bleeds through the open porch isloud. Almost loud enough to hurt my ears, but nowhere close enough to drown out my thoughts.
“How am I supposed to sleep with that?”
“If you’re going to be Guard, you’ll need to sleep when you can. Figure it out.”
I flop to my back and yank on the covers. “But it’s freezing up here, Moros. My hair is still fucking wet.”
The sound he lets loose resembles that of the attack canines kept separate from the rest of the pack back home and makes the hair on the back of my neck raise.
I don’t get a chance to say anything else because he’s—
Oh, shit, he’s laying down next to me.
Biting my lip hard and trying my best to keep my eyes from flinging wide, I scoot over just enough for his massive body to settle in next to me.
Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.
Wait a minute.
Why is my first response to hope that this fucker is gonna cuddle me and not be worried he’ll kill me?
Maybe I’m not cut out for this.
“Now shut the fuck up or I’m gonna warm my fingers in your mouth.”
