Before she could reply, a horn sounded in the distance. It was time.
‘Remember what Harlan said. If you need to surrender, you put your—’
‘I know what to do.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Then I’ll see you at the other end.’
She reached back for an arrow, loaded her bow, then ran off in the direction Harlan had gone. When she glanced over her shoulder, Roul was no longer in sight. Drawing a deep breath, she focused on the task ahead of her.
Slowing, she followed the impressions on the ground left by Harlan’s enormous boots. They led her to a fallen log, which he appeared to have climbed over. She did the same, then stopped. The earth was firmer that side of the tree, but even still, she would have expected to pick up his tracks. But the thick debris covering the ground lay undisturbed. She looked left, then right to where a few threads of broken cobweb blew gently in the breeze. Climbing back up onto the log, she walked carefully along it until she reached the base of the tree where moss-covered roots rose before her. The moss where she walked was shredded, which gave her hope. She looked around until she finally spotted Harlan’s footprints.
‘Found you,’ she whispered.
From the moment she climbed down, she knew she was not alone. She was being watched, and that meant she was nearing her first target.
Lifting her bow, she moved between the trees like a cat, her feet soundless and ears straining. She heard a rustle in the trees overhead and looked up just as something fell from the branches. A plank of wood came swinging towards her, a single piece of red ribbon nailed to the centre. Eda released the arrow, striking the ribbon, then leaped out of its way. Loose hair lifted off her face as wood wooshed past her before disappearing into the trees.
Her heart raced, but in a good way. She was ready for whatever came next.
Reaching back for another arrow, she continued forwards. She had barely taken two steps when she felt something press against her ankle. Looking down, she saw it was a piece of string.
Oh no.
She leapt backwards at the same time a pell sprang up from the ground, a red ribbon flying. Through a flurry of soggy leaves and dirt, she shot it. Down it went, flattening against the ground where it had been hidden under debris. Eda reloaded her bow and swung it side to side as leaves floated down around her, settling on the ground once more. When nothing else popped up, she looked around for Harlan’s footprints but did not find them.
Stepping over the string, she looked up and down and side to side, searching for clues as to which way Harlan had gone. Her vision snagged on a tree trunk, a section of scuffed bark. She walked over and ran her fingers over it. Judging by the colour, the damage was recent. A smile flickered on her face when she looked down and saw prints in the earth that indicated Harlan had passed by at a run.
Eda followed them.
It was around five minutes later when she heard the croon of a seagull. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the sound of a seabird in a forest where seabirds did not dare venture. Raising her bow to the sky, she watched the branches above, body still and bow string taut beneath her fingers. A herring gull took flight, a red ribbon dangling from one leg. She shot the bird from the sky, watching it tumble through the branches before landing with a soft thud nearby. Reloading her bow, she scanned the treetops, but no more birds took flight. She exhaled and lowered her weapon.
Eda went to collect the arrow from the dead bird, then took a moment to get her bearings. She was close to the village now. Harlan’s footprints laid out a clear path for her to follow.
It all felt a bit easy suddenly.
Before she had even finished that thought, a low growl reached her, the sound carried on the westerly breeze. She swung around, lifting her bow, gaze darting from tree to tree. Nothing moved. For a moment she wondered if she had imagined it. But then she heard it again, closer this time. Her muscles grew tense. It sounded like a dog—and she despised dogs. Her only experience with them was being hunted by them. In the past, defenders would set them free in the borough to track down merchants coming in and out of the tunnels. Eda had watched many times from the safety of the treetops as they tackled and mauled men twice her size. She had sat frozen with her heart in her throat as the dogs turned in circles below her, her scent drifting down to them.
She was not in the treetops this time.
A whistle sounded, an instruction.Find them, she had always imagined the translation to be.Hold them down with teeth and paws so we can hang them from the walls.
Sweat beaded on Eda’s brow as she waited, a slight tremble in her hands that she really needed to get under control. For a moment, all was silent. Then a dog leapt from the brush, its sleek black-and-brown coat blending with its surroundings. Enormous paws stretched in her direction, black eyes fixed on Eda. She took aim, ready to shoot, but then a cold realisation hit her.
There was no ribbon attached to the dog.
Roul’s words sounded in her head.‘It’s equally as important not to shoot, stab, or kill anything that doesn’t have a ribbon on it.’
What was she supposed to do? Stand there and wait to be mauled?
She turned and took off at a sprint, legs pumping as she listened for the dog behind her. Of course, it was faster than she was, and the gap between them started to close.
Through the trees ahead, she could see the village, but she would not make it. Turning, she swung her bow at the dog, and it was forced to pull up in order to avoid being hit. Back and forth she swung. The animal snapped and snarled each time the bow passed its face. Roul had never said she could nothitthings without a ribbon, only that she could not shoot, stab, or kill them. But she reached for the dagger at her hip just in case. There was no point passing the test if she was going to die in the process.
She stared at the frothy-mouthed dog as she edged backwards in the direction of the village, wondering if she could make it all the way there in that manner. It would be a long, tiring walk, but a lot safer than trying to outrun an aggressive hound.
While she was focused on the dog, feathers burst into view, wings flapping in front of her face. The bird was either thrown into the mix to distract her or it had incredibly bad timing. She shoved it away with her free hand, trying to keep sight of the dog at the same time. The bird clucked, then squawked as it crash-landed on the ground a few feet from her. She dared a glance and saw it was a chicken. It continued to flap and carry on as it got to its feet. Eda prayed the dog would give chase, but it was too well trained.
Out of the corner of her eye, Eda saw a flash of red.
