Shea feared the same. The Airabel knew the dangers of their forest and could slip through it like ghosts. With the outside world encroaching on their lives, they would have to adjust quickly or fall into the void like so many villages before them.
“Have your men get in touch with the Wind Division commander, Eamon,” Shea said. “He can give you some basic information about what you might be facing.”
It wasn’t much, but it was all she could give right now.
“What about your people?” Eckbert asked. “I know they have much knowledge that can be shared, and we have been on friendly terms in the past.”
Shea’s gaze turned inwards. The pathfinders, for all their knowledge, were loath to help others seeking guidance. They hoarded what they knew like dragons on a pile of gold, viewing any who had not taken their oaths as being unworthy.
“They are far from here. It would take months for any message you sent to reach them and be returned.” Shea settled on her response.
“And the pathfinder Reece?” Eckbert lifted an eyebrow, intelligence shining in his face. This was no befuddled old man. There was a reason he’d gotten to his position. Shea was willing to bet he used the persona of a kindly old man only intent on procreation to lure many off their guard. “I assume he is still alive. He could have much to share with us.”
Fallon unfolded his arms. “He is alive, but he will stay with us. I still have business with him.”
Yes, the pathfinder Reece. A man who had shown up mere days before this attack.
Chirron held up a needle and thread. “Hold still.”
He pulled the skin taut.
Something didn’t sit right with Shea. There was more to this. And she was betting Reece had some of the answers.
Shea pushed Chirron’s hands away, ignoring his squawk of protest. “I want to see Reece.”
She popped to her feet without waiting for a response.
“Where do you think you’re going? Sit back down. I still need to stitch up your wounds.” Chirron’s voice was angry as it followed her out of the tent.
Fallon was beside her. “Shea.”
“Where is he?” Shea waited a beat, holding Fallon’s eyes. He frowned at her, his eyebrows lowering.
She turned away. Fine. If he wasn’t going to answer, she’d find him herself even if she had to search every tent in this place.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“YOU’RE GOING the wrong way,” Fallon informed her.
Shea stopped, her shoulders tightening before she did an about face. Fallon waited for her with an expression that was both expectant and amused. She swept by him and stalked along the tents.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
He knew she didn’t.
She’d stormed out of the tent when he failed to answer, and now she was wandering around the encampment with no real clue as to where to find Reece. She was faced with admitting her hotheadedness or committing to this course of action.
Fallon paced along beside her, his large form shadowing hers. “How long do you intend to waste your time when you could just ask for help?”
Shea took a deep breath and stopped, turning to meet Fallon’s eyes. He lifted one eyebrow expectantly. Nope. She couldn’t do it. She turned on her heel and kept walking.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. His lips covered hers before she could form a protest.
Need rose in her—a torrential feeling threatening to subsume her beneath its fury. The pure gratitude that they were both alive to fight, and love, and everything that came with it.
The fury of their passion eased, and she pressed several kisses to his lips before she pulled away and pressed her face into his chest. His arms were a warm weight around her as he rested his chin on top of her head.
Together they breathed, Fallon’s hand smoothing down the back of her head.
