The lightness I felt before is quickly snuffed out.
It will always be strange to realize I’ve been alive far longer than anyone is ever destined to be. Watching the world age before me was never something I would have dared to dream of, and yet, here I am.
Dahla’s tail slaps me in the face with a sudden swat, focusing my wandering thoughts back to the present. The ancient trees here and haunting mountains to my left are all I need to see to know where our journey has taken us.
The edge of the Siltar Woods. Once luscious and evergreen, now were laden with death and fraught with spirits. Thieves and murderers once would call it home, but King Euron dealt withthat swiftly. One of the only things of goodness that came from his hand.
Now, only the strong and olden villagers remain to brave these woods. Heathens by King Euron’s standards, but merely a folk that worshiped older gods, people that were akin to me.
The Siltar Woods may scare most, but to me, they felt more like home, at least that was until I found my way to Eiliorah.
“What brings us to these sacred woods?” I force the gravel out of my throat and ask the question. It has Alora’s head turning slowly to me.
Her deep blue hood is pulled up over her hair, concealing the dark auburn locks.
Gods she looks like royalty up there, if I could watch her body sway with each step of her horse, I’d gladly become a fly and perch here for eternity on Dahla’s hind quarters.
“Interesting choice of words, Devourer.”
The way she saysthat nameleaves me wanting to hear more. I should hate it, but instead I could get lost in fantasizing about the way she rolls theroff her tongue. If hearing her use that insult as my name can cause such elicit feelings, I yearn to hear her say my real name. Preferably accompanied with a moan.
Gods, can you imagine?
I roll my shoulders in an attempt to free myself of these confounding feelings. I’m her captive, being used as a pawn just as I have always been, but rather than loathe her, I’d sooner be under her delectable mercy.
“I only speak of these woods as they are. I am just wondering what significance they have for The Hidden.”
She looks around at me again, her gaze sharpening.
“I’m not sure what knowledge you would already know about us, and I’m inclined to keep it at a minimum, Devourer.”
“I know a great many things about you that you don’t realize.”
I feel my iron bonds pull tight, Dahla stepping quickly over a decaying log. My foot steps on the worm—eaten wood and punches through, trapping my leg.
“Damnit,” I mutter, realizing too late that Dahla isn’t stopping and I’m quickly yanked forward, my arms wrenching in their sockets.
My face crashes into a soggy pile of moss and sharp tree needles that are covered in hoarfrost.
My arm smarts as Dahla takes another step. The prospect of the horse tearing my arms from my body doesn’t sound appealing so I scramble to get to my feet again, but only succeed in stumbling to my knees once more.
This is becoming a regular occurrence, me falling face first into the forest floor. My wrists feel raw and angry against the biting iron of the culling bands but my arms have begun to ache so deeply that perhaps it would be better if they were ripped from me.
“This isn’t working.” Her voice rushes out in agitation.
Relief momentarily floods me, giving me a chance to heave myself into a standing position. Perspiration gathers on my brow, slowly dripping down into my eye. I do my best to clear the salty brine with my arm.
With my lungs on fire, I take slow, steadying breaths to calm them.
As one who trains frequently, the burn isn’t new, it’s usually welcomed. This feels different, like my body is being pushed until it willingly breaks.
“What do you want to do then? He damn well isn’t riding with me.” Caym spits out.
“I don’t trust him to not run off with a horse and back to King Euron.” Leeson whispers to Alora.
“Then he’ll ride with me. He’s bound by culling bands and his wrists are tied.”
Her leg swings over the saddle and she quickly lands on her feet, her skirts swaying from the leap down.
