Aelia blinked. Why were they unchecked?
They’d always been a nuisance, sure, but last night was nothing short of an extermination, of cold-blooded murder. Why was the King’s army not tracking them down and hanging them by their prejudiced little throats?
And what were they doing with the humans they were collecting? Why not just kill them then and there?
Aelia’s blood went cold as the question that had been running circles round her mind all day came back to the forefront. Where were they taking Fenrir?
Her mind whirled in a torrent of unanswerable questions, but that last one gave her pause. Here she was moping about being alone, when she was comfortably sitting in her own home, with a full belly. Fenrir on the other hand, was gods only knew where, being taken to gods only knew what.
Her anger turned inwards, twisting to point straight at herself.
If the roles were reversed, Fenrir would already be on his way to save her, of that she had no doubt. Her eyes widened with the awful realisation of how much time she’d lost.
In that moment, her path was clear, her decision made. Maybe one day she would do as Otis said, but for now, her friend needed her.
She pushed herself off the roof, landing on the branch with a grunt, and slipped through the window to pack.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Too wired to try to sleep, despite the obvious logic to wait until daybreak before leaving, she slung the last of what she thought she’d need into her pack, their savings carefully wrapped in some clothes at the bottom.
Otis had more than one belted harness for the dagger, and she tugged it on, cinching it tight over her hips. The dagger was a comforting weight, and she drew it a few times, practicing the angle she’d need to access it quickly in an emergency.
When she could think of nothing else she might need, she shouldered her pack, ignoring her back’s protestations, and turned to look around the lounge. The weight of its emptiness crushed her, making it difficult to breathe.
She battled past it, forcing herself to see Otis sitting in his chair, the reassuring constant in her life no matter what else it threw at her. She pictured Mirra chatting away, always smiling, no matter what. She saw her childhood; the happiness, the safety, the love. She closed her eyes and saw Fenrir, her last living friend, the protective goofball who could always make them smile.
She put her hand on the doorframe and silently thought of everything she was leaving behind. For a moment, she allowedher anguish to envelop her, feeling its infinite depth and accepting that it was now a part of her. But so was her rage, and she could either drown in it, or use it.
She sank into the anger, undiluted and pure, and it pulled her from the stupor of grief, giving her direction, purpose. Her future stretched out before her, the path clear and beckoning.
Hoiking her pack higher onto her shoulders, she strode out the front door, shutting it behind her without a backward glance.
It wasn’tlong before she was limping again, the poultice having helped more than she believed possible, but her joints screamed under the weight of the pack. She pushed on, wincing as she realised how much catching up she had to do if she was going to find Fenrir. Usually, a lone traveller would make much better time than a group that size, but in her condition, she wondered if she’d ever catch up.
A light drizzle began to drip from the overhead canopy, and she paused to lift her hood over her head, pulling it down low over her face. Fucking perfect. Not only was she sore, tired, and hungry, but she was going to get wet too.
She left Callodosis behind, following the main road out of the woods. Road was a generous term for the dusty tracks they used to transport the timber they harvested out of the forest, but it was the best they had. As the hours crept by, she found herself crossing the point that took her the furthest she’d ever been from home.
She paused for a moment, hands fisted around the straps of her pack to stop them digging in so much, doubt creeping in. She swallowed hard and took another step. Nowthiswas the furthest she’d ever been. Now this. Now this.
A smile teased at her lips; it was going to be a long walk if she kept this up.
The weak rays of the sun would just be rising above the thick canopy, but she had a while yet before they’d be strong enough for her to follow the physical trail of the Astraea. That was okay though, the tracks were so fresh that she could still smell the mixed jumble of dozens of scents, all mingling to become powerful enough for her to make out.
Her senses weren’t human, matching that of the most sensitive artemian, although once Shifted, most of them would have been able to best her. That was where she always fell short.
A regular artemian’s skillset was dictated by the animal they could Shift into. If their second form had particularly good hearing, that was transferable to their two-legged form. The same was true for strength, speed, agility, sight, smell, and so on. On two legs, Aelia could beat all of them, at everything. She could outlift, outrun, and outjump the very best of them.
But she couldn’t Shift, and that was what mattered in Demuto. That’s how your worth was measured.
Aelia was so busy following her nose, so absorbed by her inner monologue about societal injustices, that she was utterly taken by surprise when a hulking shape leapt out at her in an indistinguishable blur and slammed her face-first into the nearest tree.
“Why are you following me?” a voice growled into her ear. Panic flooded through her. The man pressing her against the tree felt huge at her back, and in this position, she was near defenceless.
“I’m not following you,” she ground out, face smushed into the rough bark by a firm hand.
Her hood was ripped back, and an instant later, she was let go.
