Damien was still astride his knoggelvi, his face hard to read past a quiet disinterest. “Are the two of you finished?”
Amma stared back at him, too shocked at his lack of concern to even be angry.
“Back on the knoggelvi,” he said, jerking his head toward the horse-like creature. “We’ve still much of the swamp to cover.”
She snorted, crossing her arms and opening her mouth, but there was a sound out in the distance, the low baying of an animal, that made her tense up. “What was that?”
Damien tipped his head, listening. “Wolf.”
Another howl answered the first, this one closer.
“No, excuse me:werewolf.”
Amma gasped, standing straighter and whipping around. There wasn’t anything moving out amongst the low laying fog and the murky water, nothing two-legged anyway. When she looked back to Damien still up on his knoggelvi, he was grinning from one side of his mouth. “Oh, very funny,” she said, “but a pack of wolves is frightening enough—you don’t need to pretend there are monsters out here.”
“You think there aren’t werewolves in Tarfail Quag?” He tipped his head. “Or you think there aren’t werewolves anywhere because you don’t believe they exist?”
Uncomfortably, Amma shifted her weight to her other foot. There were many strange things in the world, wonderful and terrible both, but of monsters she had only heard stories, actually seeing very little until she’d made it to Aszath Koth. Of course, she was standing before a blood mage, the supposed son of a demon, and it hadn’t occurred to her those were real until a day ago either. “I’ve never seen one,” she said hesitantly.
He looked her up and down. “And I suppose you’ve never seen a vampire, so those must not exist either.”
She snorted at him, but when his face didn’t change into another knowing smirk, she hurried up to her knoggelvi and grabbed a hold of the reins. It took a few steps away from her just as she tried to jump upon it, and she stumbled.
“Hurry up,” said Damien as he urged his mount to continue on, trotting away from her. “If you fall behind, you’ll most certainly be eaten. Or worse.”
She glared after him, then put a valiant if failed effort into climbing back astride. She’d always thought she’d been a fine rider, but never had to mount something so tall from the ground. Amma led it by the reins to a bent cypress tree, stepped up, and then with a clench to her stomach and a huge swing of her leg, lunged over and up. The knoggelvi grunted, pawing at the soft earth and then took off under her to catch up with its companion, failing though it tried to jostle her right back off.
As they traveled on, the clouds darkened overhead, threatening rain, but the air only thickened with stagnancy and stench. Kaz had fallen into silence, hunched over on the head of the knoggelvi, but Tarfail Quag more than made up for it with new sounds the deeper they went. Frogs and crickets sang, interrupted by the random splash of creatures retreating into the waters. And then there were the howls, maybe closer, maybe not, but each made goosebumps erupt over Amma’s skin. Damien seemed significantly less concerned, so she reasoned they must not be that much of a threat. Surely, they were only regular, sharp-fanged, pack-hunting wolves.
Amma flexed her fingers and glanced down at the hand the leech had attached to. It no longer hurt unless she moved her thumb a certain way. Then she poked at her face. There was a twinge of pain beneath her eye, and the skin felt puffy. When she glanced at Damien, he could have been watching her, but he looked away quickly if so. “Thank you,” she eventually said in a quiet voice.
Damien’s long nose crinkled, and his lip turned up. “Thank you?” he said mostly to himself as he glared out at the path ahead then over to her like she was as disgusting as she actually felt. “For what exactly?”
She held up her hand, showing him her palm marked by the leech.
“Well, that’s my blood in there now too, in the talisman,” he clarified, clearing his throat. “Don’t want the quag getting a taste for me.”
An owl hooted from overhead, and Amma flinched, worrying the knoggelvi’s reins in tight fists. “Once, when I was little, a dog bit me. I just wanted to play with him, he looked so cute, you know? He was one of those small ones with the curly tails, and he wore this little bell. But he didnotfeel the same way about me and went for my ankles. He knocked me down then bit into my elbow and started shaking his head and wouldn’t let go.” She swallowed, blinking out into the spindly trees, the shadows in the fog looking like they were moving. “I remember my mother screaming, and there was a lot of blood.”
Damien didn’t look at her, but his back stiffened.
“I still have some scars on my legs and my arm. I’ve been afraid of dogs ever since.” At that, there was another howl, this one decidedly closer.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Why?” Amma blinked, thinking that it was a good distraction, then laughed nervously. “Oh, what you said about the swamp getting a taste for you? That dog always hated me, like he wanted my blood or something.”
“It should have been put down.”
Amma’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, it was my fault, I should have known better. But they wouldn’t have ever done that to him anyway, he was—” She stopped herself, clamping her mouth shut. No, she couldn’t say that. “He belonged to someone important.”
Damien narrowed his eyes and grunted.
There was another sound out in the swamp, this one Amma was entirely unable to identify but terrified her nonetheless. “Do you want to see?” She didn’t give him the opportunity to say no, pulling back the too-big sleeve of her tunic to reveal her elbow. She brushed away the drying mud up along her arm to uncover the silvery white marks.
He glanced momentarily at her then away again, mumbling something under his breath about heroism.
Amma bit her lip, dropping her arm back down and the sleeve with it. That may not have worked out how she’d wanted. A twig snapped nearby, and her stomach clenched as she grabbed up the reins again, and went on nervously, “So, how did you get yours?”
