“How do you know about these woods, Devourer?” I nearly shout at him, fog and a sinister feeling creeping in on me.
He shifts and then looks away. “There are far more ancient things in this realm than you realize, Alora.”
With the fog engulfing us, I begin to search for any sign of direction.
“Turn the horse around, she’ll lead us the right way.” His words offer a cushion against the pressing mist.
“You do not trust me, but you do trust Dahla. So let her move us before we’re lost to the forest.”
It’s reasonable, his request, so I simply turn Dahla and then let her lead us on.
Her hooves eat the distance and we pop out of the encasement of fog.
I peek over my shoulder as my hair tousles about, the phantom mist seems to have stayed put as the unnatural wall of gloom pulses and swirls.
The Devourer also peers back, his inky locks bouncing with the cadence of Dahla’s gallop.
I’m not sure what’s more terrifying at the moment—the man who is the monster, the primitive, ancient fog that threatens to swallow us, or the fact that for a moment I was lost out of my senses.
I exhale a shaky breath and turn back around and look for any trace of Caym and Lees. The trees are thick in this part of the forest, their trunks of jagged puzzlepiece bark lined with lichen and the large bushy branches of dark green needles. The path is mostly obscured due to the forested giants, but leveling my gaze between two out—croppings of trees I notice a horse round a bend in the trail.
“Thank goddess.” I murmur and spur Dahla on, urging her faster.
The Devourer grips my waist tighter, his fingers unwavering in their grip. It’s as if they’re tethering me to the realm right now, and I can’t help but feel thankful for them, as perverse as the feeling is.
They’re firm, piercing, and very much real. Not imagined like the cries I’d heard moments ago.
Dahla continues onward, her steps taking us around the curved trail and leading us from the thicket of forest.
My breath returns as Caym and Leeson come into view. They’ve stopped along the trail that begins to wind between a small slope of two hills. They’re facing our direction, waiting. She’s closer to us than Caym, with a few lengths between them.
Lees’ eyes blink and her brows relax as she grabs her chest. Caym glares at us and shakes his head. His mouth falls open as if he’s shouting something.
My ears prick up, trying to decipher his words. It’s useless, his voice is too muffled.
He brings his hands up to cup around his mouth and yells again, “You worried me damnit!”
The Devourer sighs behind me before muttering, “Well that makes two of us.”
“You didn’t let on then.” My words are clipped.
The reality is that the fog was quickly becoming too much for either of us. It gnaws at me that I almost let myself get lost in it.
I pull the reins tight, halting Dahla, and twisting around to face my captive who is more of a thorn in my side than I thought he’d be.
“You’ve got some nerve, Devourer.” Anger fills my chest and I feel the flush of crimson rushing up my chest and into my face.
If it hadn’t been for him, King Euron, The Nightmare, the reality of our world…I wouldn’t have to be in this situation. Hunted by spirits and mercenaries alike, haunted by my past.
My eyes harden on his green orbs as I say, “You’re the very reason we’re in these damned woods running like hares.”
His gaze doesn’t stray, it remains unrelenting, instead he just sits there looking at me like I’m the one to blame.
“I did not ask to be brought here. I’m helpless in my actions just as I’ve always been.”
As I’ve always been.Whatever he means by that.
The wind whips strands of hair across his face, all while he continues to study me.
