I deepen my breath to calm my spinning head. And although my hands are clammy and my body is shaking, I pull myself back to my feet once more.
“What happened here?”
I jolt and spin so quickly I nearly topple over, and there is no way to hold back the piercing scream that flies past my lips. My dagger comes up between us, but my hands are now shaking so violently I can barely hold on to the shaft. My heart hammers against my ribs. Another threat. Another man.
It takes several ragged breaths before I register what I’m seeing—an older man, hands raised, concern etched across his weathered face. Not a threat. Not yet.
I frown at the older man.Where did he come from?
“I knew I should have come earlier,” he mumbles to himself, poking the remains of the dead body with his staff.
Though old, he’s strong and agile, like a warrior, with his steel-gray hair neatly cropped at the sides and the rest pulled back into a topknot. Despite his age, his skin has a healthy golden glow, a stark contrast to the bloated skin and pallid complexions of the three men. I also notice that his ears have that slight point to them, telling me he’s Rean rather than human. Although he wears simple clothes—a dark brown hooded robe belted at the waist and a leather pouch on his hip—his commanding aura is nothing but, and I instinctively lower my gaze in submission.
“A wolf.” I sign. Old habits die hard. I’m not even considering the option to use my voice in front of this man of importance.
When he remains silent, I cautiously steal a glance at him through my lowered lashes. His head is tilted like he’s trying to figure me out, and he’s munching on what looks to be a bag of nuts. Perhaps he’s not accustomed to sign language. I take a chance, speaking out loud.
“It was a wolf,” I say, my voice no louder than a whisper. And after a moment’s pause, I add, “Who are you?”
“Ah, so youdohave a voice.” His own is warm, carrying none of the condescending tone I’m so used to. “I am Ero,” he says. “And you?”
“Laïna.” I lift my gaze.
“I am delighted to meet you, Laïna,” he says with a wide smile that reveals his canines, then adds a bow.
I blink. That’s a first.
“Walk with me.” Confident I will follow, he strolls off toward the river.
Should I? A part of me wants to continue on alone, painfully aware that he might be another trap, his kind manners a carefully constructed facade. The other part recognizes that it may be just as dangerous to continue on alone. With no fighting skills, I am defenseless if someone—or something—decides to get me. I take one last look around the blood-soaked site and decide to take him up on his offer.
“Are you alone?” I ask once I catch up to him.
“I was,” he says. “Now you are here.”
I shoot him a sideways glance. Maybe following him wasn’t such a wise choice after all.
“To be alone is not such a bad thing,” he continues. “One may be the lowest of numbers, but it offers within it everything: Fulfillment. Completion. Oneness.” He smiles at me. “The trouble starts when the loneness is interrupted by a second or even a third number, think you not?” He tilts his head at me in that peculiar way again.
“Sure...” It comes out more like a question, my brows pulling together at his enigmatic way of speaking.
“Thought so.” He nods to himself.
We walk in silence for a good while, him in front and me behind, the only sound his cheerful whistle as we make our way down the river. Rays of light drip through emerald leaves, dappling the mossy forest floor. It makes my feet bounce with each soft step. Inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and damp earth, I sigh.
It’ll be all right, I promise myself.Someday.
“The skylight makes everything so beautiful,” I say, mostly to say something.
Ero turns toward me, an amused expression on his face. “Skylight?”
I gesture toward the rays filtering through the canopy.
He chuckles. “You mean the sunlight?”
I shrug. How am I supposed to know what it’s called? “I guess so.”
“There is no need to be embarrassed,” he says. “It is a good name. It is light. And it comes from the sky.” He picks one of the many flowers growing on the vines that snake around the wide trunks of the trees, spinning it between his fingers. “Besides, noticing such intricate details as a dewdrop clinging to a blade of grass, or the way sunlight filters through leaves, is a true gift. Do not let it go.” With a smile, he nestles the sweet-smelling flower behind my ear.
