But he was already gone, slipping out of the trees and into the nearest field, which was growing some sort of golden grain that came all the way up to his chest.
I don’t know why I even bother asking questions, I thought, plunking down on the log he’d pointed out.He never gives me a straight answer.
Still, I was grateful for the opportunity to rest my feet, as well as the chance to admire the little village some more. After everything I’d experienced today—weird shadow tentacles trying to kill me, pain that made it feel like my skin was falling off, being kidnapped by a strange woman who lived in a tree—this moment of beauty and stillness felt like paradise.
But it was marred by that knot in my belly, the one that wouldn’t let me forget about the way we left Octavian and Alastor, or that huge blast of essence we felt as we were running away.
I fingered the pearls around my neck. If I’d felt the blast that strongly while these were tied around my wrists and dampening the effect, how much worse had it been in reality?
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Immediately, I dropped to the ground behind the log. Another stick broke—the sounds were coming from somewhere off to my right—and then I heard a rustling, like something being dragged through leaves.
As quietly as I could, I crawled along the ground, around the end of the log. This had once been an enormous tree, and when I reached a spot where it had started to crumble away, there was plenty of room for me to climb inside. I drew myself up into a ball, knees hugged to my chest, and waited with bated breath.
There was someone—or something—moving toward me through the forest. They made no attempt to be stealthy, which meant they either didn’t know I was here or didn’t care that I knew. I prayed it was the former.
The closer they came, the more convinced I was that it wasn’t a person—the steps were too heavy, and I kept hearing a strange,snufflingsound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
As the thing drew nearer, the flaky bark of the log trembled with its every step, until I could tell the creature was just outside, separated from me by nothing more than a single layer of decaying tree.
It smelledawful.Like garbage on a hot summer day, acrid and rotting. I gagged, clamping my hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise.
The very air around me felt hot andmoist, like the beast was surrounded by its very own noxious sweat cloud. It made my eyes water.
It lumbered another heavy step, brushing against the side of my shelter, and part of the log gave way, decaying tree mass crumbling inward.
I was already sitting as still as I could, but now I was afraid to even breathe. Around the edge of the disintegrating bark I could see dark matted fur that looked almost aubergine beneath the shadows of the trees. Tiny drops of liquid clung to the wiry strands of hair, little beads of sweat or ooze or some other bodily secretion. The smell was worse now that there wasn’t a barrier between us, and tears leaked out the corners of my eyes, no match for that stench.
The creature made a sound halfway between a grunt and a growl. And then it begansnufflingagain, wetly sniffing at the air.
It knows I’m here, I realized.It can smell me.I had no idea how the beast could detect anything beyond its own stench, but perhaps the scent of my soap smelled as foul to this creature as this creature did to me.
The snuffling intensified, moving down the length of the log, and I watched the bark quiver, bowing inward and starting to crumble when the beast pressed close. The moist heat was becoming more oppressive, too, and the foul stench had separated into different notes—rotten fruit, decaying flesh, and the metallic tang of blood.
This is not how I want to die.I’d survived the shadowy Tendrils. Been painfully overwhelmed by essence. Been kidnapped by a powerful and apparently evil magic-wielder. I refused to be mauled by this creature, whatever it was.
It was close to my head, now—I could feel it pressing against the bark, breathing its foul breath by my ear. It let out a loud snuffle and then another one of those grunt-growls.
And then it released a short, piercing howl that nearly deafened me.
This is it.Thisis where I die.I braced myself for the beast to smash through the log and clamp its ooze-covered jaws around my throat, but instead, it released another sharp howl, this one clearly a cry of pain.
And then it drew back. Or at least, the stench and the moisture became less oppressive, and as far as I could hear, it was moving away from me—at a far quicker pace than it had come.
I rolled forward onto my hands and knees, wondering if I should make a break for it. But before I could decide whether or not it was wise to come out of hiding, Radven appeared at the opening to the log.
“Good, you’re all right,” he said.
“What the hell was that thing?” I crawled forward, still trying to get that stench out of my nose. When I was free of the crumbling tree, I twisted around, looking in the direction I’d heard the creature run, but I saw nothing—except a trail of dark blood along the forest floor.
“Boarlath,” Radven answered grimly. “They call it the Waking Death. It shouldn’t have been in these parts.”
“So it just came by to wish me hello? How kind of it.” Still a little shaky, I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, dabbing away the tears. At least I could breathe freely again, but that stench still lingered in the air, clinging to the insides of my nostrils.
“Something’s wrong,” he said, ignoring my poor attempt at humor. He walked the length of the log, occasionally crouching down to inspect a gash in the wood or a spot of blood. “I’ve never seen a boarlath outside of the Snowcrown Mountains.”
Seeing the dangerous, roguish Radven so concerned was making me even more nervous than I already was. “Did you…kill it?”
