Time to get started.
Thirty-Eight
Anna
I huddledaround the campfire, shielding it with my body as the wind howled past and threatened to extinguish the tiny fire I’d built.
The weather was working itself up to be a real blow. The orblight had faded near dusk as the clouds built up and up over the mountains to the south. Finally, after hours of waiting, the storm had come racing downward across the lands. With it came a driving rain and gale force winds.
“No, come on. Please don’t go out,” I murmured to the fire, trying to coax it back to life. I’d shielded it with some rocks to try to create a windbreak in hopes of giving it more space to breathe, but the wind was stronger than I’d expected.
The pure dragons’ sorrow floods the land when two of their kind leave hand in hand.
It was rare to see the dragons themselves leaving. Ella and I had been downright blessed to watch. But everyone in Hollow Earth knew when it happened. It was the only time storms occurred, giving strength to the old saying.
The gale grew to a deafening crescendo ofshrieking air, stealing my little firelight and any semblance of order with it. My clothes whipped and battered against my body, my hair turned itself into a jumble of knots filled with grass, leaves, and bits of dirt as the storm swept past in a heartbeat.
It took me long seconds to discover it was gone. My ears were still ringing from the noise, and my nerves were so deadened to the wind, the abrupt lack of it was a surprise.
Standing up, I watched the storm race northward, heading toward the lands of Faerie, where the great fae lords would gather up its energy and redirect it at one another for fun.
In its wake, it left utter silence and nothing dry. I sighed and crawled back against the rock that would serve as my bed for the night. The fire was unnecessary. I didn’t need its heat or its light to survive. But there was something comforting about it. Some part of my human essence was still uncomfortable in the dark, though I could see just fine.
“Just another mystery,” I said to the dead campfire, watching a single tendril of smoke curl orb-ward from the dead brellwood twigs that had been my base.
My eyes flicked open. Something had disturbed the silence. It had been three dayssince Caz dropped me off. I’d surprised myself with how easy it had been to move back into survival mode.
Has it only been three days?
Three days of constantly moving. Scrounging for every scrap of edible food and hunting what little game there was. In the wilds, you were just as likely to be hunted by rogue faeries and feral shifters than to catch something.
On my second day, I’d stumbled across some six-toed prints that ended in long claws. Both of my feet had easily fit in to the inch-deep depression made by the giant creature. I’d seen no sign of it since, but I’d been quick to move on. Whatever it was, I did not want to make its acquaintance.
Was that what was out there now, hiding in the dark out of sight? Had a claw scraped on rock or broken a twig as it stalked me, eager for a fresh meal? I swallowed the sudden spike of fear. Adrenaline had its uses, but now was not the time for me to get all jumpy and panicky.
A boot brushed against the ground to my right. I stayed still, eyes half-closed as I listened intently. If it was a hunter, they would not be alone. They always operated in groups, usually four or more. The key was discovering which way they had left open for you to run.
Then run somewhereelse.
It was a standard hunter tactic, designed toprey on the panicked flight of their targets. Make just enough noise upon approach to be detected, and thus leave what looked like a route to freedom.
That was where the real trap lay. The noises would not be mistakes. They were the bait. Startled from sleep and not thinking clearly, it was easy to see why it was an effective hunting method.
It took me longer than I would have liked to discover they had every angle except straight ahead closed. There were four in total—three I could hear approaching and the fourth that would lie in wait, likely with a net or something similar to snare me in.
Which is why when I leapt to my feet, I ran directly at where I thought the hunter on my left would be. Then I dodged to the right, and back to the left.
Amateurs, I thought as I slipped past the shocked hunter when he sprang from concealment to try to grab me, only to find me moving in the other direction already.
I raced off into the night while shouts of anger erupted from behind me as I foiled their trap.
There was a rocky patch a half-mile in this direction. If I could reach that, I could lose them among the crags. I’d spent the better part of two hours during the day memorizing my route through it to the river beyond, where I coulddrown my scent and hopefully lose them.
At least, that’s what I wouldnormallydo.
This time, I ran a little slower and made a little more noise.
That part wasn’t hard. After a month of living in luxury with Caz, I wasn’t used to sprinting at full speed anymore. Three days wasn’t enough time to get my lungs back completely. Within minutes, I was huffing and puffing as I climbed through the rocks.
