I do as he says, the rope rough against my palm as I use it as a guide until it runs out and there’s just open space in front of me.
Petal is laughing so hard she snorts. “This is chaos.”
Rosamund huffs dramatically. “I refuse to be guided by someone with the spatial sense of a feral goose!”
“Hey,” Courtland yells. “Geese are majestic! And so am I.Honk, honk.”
That makes me snort a laugh, humor cutting through my need to get through this as quickly as possible. Every moment he goes on being ridiculous helps, every moment her directs us without using his bark is a godsend.
I can tell just from their tones that his pack mates aren’t being so careful.
“Courtland!” I call, still giggling. “Focus! Maybe guide us one at a time?” Maybe he’ll see reason this time. Now that he knows the chaos of doing it his way.
“Nope! All or nothing!” Why does he sound so pleased with that concept? “Pixie, walk forward. Careful. There’s a dip.”
I take a step as he shouts orders to the others. Thayer’s voice is off to my left, closer than Grieves or Forsythe, distracting me from Courtland, which I suspect is the point. We have to strain to listen toouralpha.
“Stop,” Thayer’s bark snaps out. Not directed at me, but I can still feel the force behind it. It shivers over my skin, making goosebumps rise.
I jolt in surprise, my toe hits a divot in the sand. My knee jerks, sharp pain lancing up my leg. I suck a breath between my teeth, biting back a slew of curses that would need to be bleeped on air.
Courtland’s tone changes instantly, from chaotically happy to protectively concerned in an instant. “Pixie? Did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” I lie, shuffling forward with my arms stretched in front of me. “Just stepped funny. It’s fine. Which way?”
Silence. Then, quieter, “You sure?”
My chest tightens, but determination blooms. “I can do this.”
Another long pause.
“Alright,” he says finally. “Turn right and step forward. Slow. Gentle. Little baby mouse steps. I’ve got you.”
I move again, barely lifting my feet off the sand, guided by the sound of his voice.
But Rosamund begins whining loudly about being lost, and Petal bumps into a rope and squeaks, and Courtland tries to direct all three of us at once again.
“No, Petal, left! Rosamund, turn around. You’re heading back to the start! Pixie, wait! I just need to find-”
It’s too much.
Too loud.
Too chaotic.
Thayer is still issuing barked commands at his team and its setting my teeth on edge.
My knee is throbbing and I just want to get my weight off it. Ineedthis to be over.
I stop listening, shutting out all the male voices clamoring for my attention, hummingClaire de Luneunder my breath to help me stay focused.
I drop one hand to the rope wall beside me, running my fingers along the thick knots. The rope angles inward. I trace it. Turn with it. Count steps. Feel the sand cool under my feet where the shade hits.
“Ren?” Courtland calls. “Pixie, what are you doing?”
“Finding my own way,” I mutter.Like I always do.“Just tell me which direction to turn when I reach the end of the rope, pretty boy.”
“Ren. Pixie! No, wait! If you just give me a second-”
