After a few hours of riding atop Sapphire, her and Auggie’s mare, conversation waned, and Isla could no longer ignore the numbness in her backside. She yearned to shove her hands inside her sweater to keep them from freezing. The landscape they passed did little to keep her attention from her discomfort; the hard, rocky terrain and occasional glimpses of life amongst pine trees and foggy rivers stayed the same throughout the trip. The autumn season in Evonlea left much to be desired. Most plant life shriveled and died as the months turned colder, leaving the landscape dry and barren. But once the first snow fell, her kingdom became a wonderland of delicate ice and white blankets coating the ground, clearing the slate for the next year’s growth.
Creatures began to show themselves as the sun warmed the earth. Small rabbits and the occasional gray fox slinked about the trees along the edge of the road. The Aataran Mountains grew closer and closer until she could make out trails of snow snaking down the higher altitude and large crevices pebbling the exterior.
They came across a handful of other travelers, most of which were heading in the opposite direction. They exchanged polite nods but kept to themselves. With all of the attacks on merchants and violence among strangers these days, nobody lingered around unfamiliar faces for too long.
They passed the dead and blackened trees of the Lemie Forest, which the locals swore was haunted by the ghosts of the animals killed during hunts, as if that explained why no life grew inside of it. At one point, Isla thought she spotted movement in the shadows of the wasteland. When she tried to get a better glimpse, nothing was there. Yet in her peripheral, she could’ve sworn she saw a tall, masculine figure with hair as pale as the moon.
The quiet dullness of the trip left Isla to her thoughts, which was a dangerous place to be. Paranoia sat in the back of her throat like a sour lump she couldn’t swallow. She always imagined the worst case scenario and had to continuously redirect herself from picturing her father lying dead in a pool of his own blood. She re-lived every painstaking moment of her mother’s death, finding Waylan shortly after, and the aftermath of their passings. How she had become an empty shell of her former self, only eating and drinking enough to get by. She didn’t think she would survive it if another piece of her heart was shattered and blown away.
The sun eventually began to set, and Isla could tell they were getting close to their destination. She now had to crane her neck to see the snowcapped peaks of Aataran.
“How much further?” she chattered, her voice hoarse from the cold and hours of not talking. Isla hoped it wouldn’t be long; the temperature was plummeting with the sun.
“Just another couple of hours, miss,” Auggie said. “We’ll get a big fire and some hot stew going as soon as we get there.”
As the minutes slowly trudged along and the sky darkened, there was a shift in the air. The sound of insects chirping and creatures rustling through the trees stilled, and the abrupt silence made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. August stiffened in front of her.
Then, angry yells and anguished cries filled the air, coming from further in the distance. She could barely make out smoke rising from a fire against the night sky, and she guessed it was a group of travelers camping around the base of the mountain.
August and Damien looked at each other, silently communicating their plans. They steered Sapphire and Grey to the right, trying to get further under the cover of the mountain and away from whatever commotion was going on.
“Should we try and help th—” Bri’s whispered question was cut off by Damien reaching an arm around and placing a hand across her mouth, the other still holding the reins. He shook his head slowly at her, and fear lit up in Bri’s eyes.
Isla hadn’t even thought about how sheltered Bri had been from life outside her home and comfortable job at her bookshop; she’d never had a reason to be out in unfamiliar territory at night or learn skills of survival and silence. The closest Bri came to danger was in the fantasy novels she read. Isla found herself wishing she could shield her best friend from the harsh reality of how violent their world had become.
They rode for several minutes, still able to hear screams and the clashing of steel echoing in the night. Isla kept looking back, longing to see the damage and help the injured. Soon, however, the cries from the other travelers faded away. She couldn’t tell if it was from the distance growing between them or because there was no one left to call out. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought.
Looking over, she saw Bri silently crying with her hands clutching Damien’s around the pommel of their saddle. The two horses rode close enough together that Isla was able to reach out and lay a shaky hand on Bri’s back.
“Why couldn’t we help them?” Bri whispered through the tears sliding down her dark cheeks.
The guilt of running away from those in need ate at Isla, too. She knew she wanted to see her father, but what of those people? Surely they also had loved ones to get back to.
August tensed, the resignation in his tone evident when he responded. “It sounded like there were a lot of people at that camp. Without getting any closer, we can’t tell how many of them are friend or foe. As much as we want to help, I don’t want to drag you two into it.”
“Can’t we circle back and see who remains? Help them, if possible?” Isla questioned.
“I’ll take a group of men back out once we get you both safely to the house, I promise,” Damien insisted.
Isla gritted her teeth. “The time it’ll take to do that could be the difference between life and death. I’m not a child or damsel in need of protection. Trust me, I can handle myself. You found and saved my father and brother, so how can I not do the same thing for someone else?”
Damien and August shared a look.
“Turn back. Now.” Isla demanded, quiet but firm.
The two men sighed but heeded her wish. As they followed the smoke curling into the sky, Isla hurriedly whispered instructions to Bri. “Stay on the horse at all times. Don’t make a sound and keep behind Damien. If we do come across anyone who tries to attack, take this,” she pulled a knife from one of the bags strapped to Sapphire, “and keep it close. The second they get within range, strike. Go for the throat or chest, whatever is closest to your hand. If Damien falls, grab the reins and get as far away as you can.” Isla paused and looked at Bri. She could tell her friend was terrified but was proud to see a small glint of determination in Bri’s dark eyes.
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure any attacker will have moved on and we’ll just need to find the injured and see how we can help,” Isla continued, trying to convince herself as much as Bri.
Damien looked over at her, impressed. “Do you do this often?”
“I’m always prepared for the worst,” she said grimly.
They were close enough now that she could smell the smoke from the fire and hear soft whimpers. That was a good sign, at least—it meant people were alive. Isla clutched her bow and notched an arrow, just in case.
Once they arrived at the campsite, she stilled at the sight of the carnage. There were streaks of blood covering the tree trunks, horses lying dead, multiple bags tossed on the ground with their contents shredded all over the place. Puddles of scarlet bled into the dried grass. There was a severed finger in the dirt close to her, and several bodies slumped over and unmoving on the earth. She couldn’t tell yet if they were dead or alive.
Isla’s mind raced, and bile crept threateningly up her throat. She had never seen human death like this, so fresh and brutal. She tried to think of it like any other hunting trip, and they were simply assessing a recent kill. She couldn’t function if she kept thinking of them as people—someone’s husband, son, brother.
