He’s moving quickly towards me as he begins to speak, “Fuck. We need to hurry before we’re taken by the mist.”
Caym jokes weakly, “Don’t be too optimistic, Devourer.”
The man next to me grunts and merely grabs the leather straps from my hands and begins to lead Dahla up the soft inclined slope.
“What are you doing with her?” I hiss at him.
He continues upwards, turning his back to me. His voice, scolding, floats over his shoulder, “Saving us.”
Caym closes his eyes as he pulls the corner of his lip up in a sneer.
“Gods this hurts,” he says, “but where is Leeson?”
I begin to step closer, but pause when my toe meets the unstable soil just slightly off the path. Looking again at the felled horse, I retrace the hoofprints to where they slide in the rocky trail before scuffling to the sandy edge. So that must be what happened.
Turning my head back towards where Leeson lays in the bramble, I answer Caym, “She must be knocked out, but she’s breathing, so there’s that.”
The pressing fog quickly becomes more dense on either side of the hill.
Caym’s raspy response forms, “Well maybe that’s for the best so she won’t lose her head over this sinking sand.”
Dahla’s body moves to the ledge above Caym, guided by The Devourer. He’s since taken off the heavy overcoat, his blackbuttoned shirt makes him look like a reaper summoned by the fog against the misty background.
“Quick now Alora,” he says, his glowing eyes only adding to the haunting atmosphere, “you take the reins up here by Dahla so I can grab Caym’s arm.”
His plan is the only one we have so I quickly navigate up the sparse little hill.
The wet leaves slide beneath my feet, adding another layer of danger to our situation.
If Dahla slips and falls, we’ll land directly on Caym and be lost to the sinking sand too.
I remove my heavy cloak and toss it onto the damp earth, not wanting to waste a moment, before looking at The Devourer. I outstretch my hand, waiting for him to place the reins in my grasp.
His brows form a tight line as he purses his lips. The shadowing on his chin has grown in our days of travel and gives him a rugged kind of beauty.
“How will you manage to hold on to him and Dahla at the same time?”
He doesn’t answer me quickly, instead he holds his hand out expectantly.
“I need your dagger.” That’s his answer, the only one he offers.
“Why?” I draw the word out.
“I need to cut a fabric strip from my coat, and it would be easier and quicker, I might add, if you’d let me use your dagger.”
Deciding it’s not worth the time to argue, I oblige.
I retrieve the opaline dagger from my cloak where I laid it down and return standing next to Dahla.
“Don’t make me regret this, Devourer.”
His brow quirks and his voice is low as he answers, “Such an untrusting creature.”
He moves to grab the dagger from my grasp as I turn the handle towards him, the blade held in my palm.
His hand closes over mine, heat warming against my chilled skin.
“I’m accustomed to holding sharp things Alora, you need not protect me.”
