What happens next is fast and brutal and final, and later I can’t even visualize it—except for Crat'ax’s hand shooting past me.
Sprub’ex’s grip breaks. I stumble forward, coughing, collapsing into Crat'ax’s arms as the world tilts and spins.
Behind me, there’s a splash.
Then only the sound of water, slapping gently against wood. And the splashes of someone swimming messily away. The water must have cooled Sprub’ex down.
And Crat'ax’s arms around me, solid and shaking, as the night closes back in while he paddles us back to the village.
He gets me out of the canoe and into his arms in one continuous motion. My feet barely touch the platform before he’s lifting me, hauling us both up onto the planks. My legs shake so badly I can’t tell if they’ll hold my weight at all.
The bay is quiet again, looking innocent and dark.
I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, my breath coming in sharp, ugly gasps. My throat burns where Sprub’ex’s arm had been. When I swallow, it hurts.
“Crat'ax,” I manage, though it comes out thin and broken.
“I have you,” he says immediately, voice low and rough. “You are here. You are safe. We are safe.”
He sets me down carefully, keeping one arm around my back as if I might fall apart if he lets go. My knees buckle anyway, and I end up crouched on the planks, palms flat against the wood, head spinning.
That’s when I hear it.
At first, I think it’s just the blood pounding in my ears, the ocean sloshing against the stilts, the distant creak of ropes. But then it sharpens into something else. Somethingwrong.
A sound that doesn’t come from any one place. It’s beyond cold, just blank and mirthless. It ripples across the bay like a breath across the back of my neck. It’s not fully a sound. An icy, scraping cackle that I feel in my bones more than I hear with my ears.
I freeze.Did you hear that?I almost ask.
But Crat'ax has already stiffened. His head snaps up, eyes sweeping the dark water beyond the torches. His grip on me tightens for half a heartbeat as he stares at a certain point in the night. “That?—”
Footsteps thunder across the platforms. Men pour in from every direction, bare feet slapping wood, voices raised in confusion and alarm. Torches flare. Someone shouts a question. Someone else calls Crat'ax’s name.
Before anyone can get close, Crat'ax straightens.
“Stop!” he roars. The sound is huge. It rolls across the platforms like a wave breaking against stone. “Get off my platform. Now.”
The men falter, skidding to a halt. They look from him to me. They note my disheveled hair, my scraped throat, the blood smeared across my shoulder, and whatever questions they have die in their mouths.
Crat'ax reaches into the hut and grabs his spear. He lifts it in one smooth, violent motion.
“Go,” he snarls. “Before I decide I need answers from you all.”
No one argues. They retreat, backing away along the walkways, glancing over their shoulders until the darkness swallows them and the torches thin out again. The night closes in, quiet and heavy.
Crat'ax turns back to me. The fury drains from his face all at once, leaving something raw and shaken behind. He drops the spear just inside the doorway and kneels in front of me, hands hovering as if he’s afraid to touch me too roughly.
“You are hurt,” he says.
“I’m…” My voice cracks. I clear my throat, wince. “I’m alive.”
He exhales hard, a sound that might be a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much to hear. He helps me inside the hut, guiding me to the sleeping platform. The leather sheet is tangled and half torn where they grabbed me. He pushes it aside and sits close, too close to be proper, one hand braced on the planks beside my hip.
“I left,” he says, staring at where the hole in the floor has been only partly covered by the kidnapper after their attempt. “I should not have left.” He walks over, kneels, and yanks the removable square up, revealing the hole. He puts his whole head down the hole, looking for enemies. Not finding any, he replaces the lid and wedges it shut with angry movements.
“Sprub’ex,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens. “He asked me to walk. Said the chief wished to speak with me. I believed him.” His voice drops. “I was a fool. The chief always wants to speak with me.”
