Mirren
We are both panting by the time Shaw deems it safe enough to rest. He turns around as I slip into my spare clothes and then watches wordlessly as I inspect my feet. They sting, but thankfully, our slow pace prevented the skin from being broken. I tie up my boots, thankful Shaw had the forethought to throw them in his pack before our escape.
He doesn’t seem to notice the blood beginning to crust where I scratched him and for once, his face is not a stone mask. Instead, he looks at me with a ragged sort of intensity that is thrilling and confusing. As if he wants to both hurt and protect me; angry and hungry and sad. I turn away, running my fingers through my hair and weaving it into a thick braid that hangs down my back.
I offer him his cloak, but he shakes his head. “Keep it.”
The cloak smells like him, spice and woodsmoke and wild, open air, but it’s thick and warm, so I only nod and wrap it around my shoulders.
“My father,” Shaw says hoarsely.
I look over at him. His shoulders are hunched, and he is staring into the forest as if he can see through the miles of trees. “What?”
“You asked who I’m doing this for. I’m doing it for my father.”
I stare at him in surprise. Shaw never allows information to slip without an intended purpose, but what can be his reason for telling me this? No matter how I look at it, it only seems like he’s admitting a vulnerability.
His eyes are emotionless as they meet mine. “He would be ashamed.”
I open my mouth to say something, though I have no idea what, when a crash and a shriek sounds from the trees.
“How—"
His words never get a chance to leave his mouth as the yamardu leaps at him, pummeling him to the ground. Something pulls tight in my chest as Shaw goes rolling, dodging slashes from the creature’s razor-sharp talons.
Run.
The idea formed while we were escaping, quick and poignant. Admittedly, it was a long shot, one in which my own death was gambled. I clawed at Shaw and could only hope the creature smelled his blood and not mine.
The beast slashes, its muscular wings pulled wide and its shrieks rendering me nearly deaf. Shaw manages to pull a dagger from his bandolier and rolls to his feet. He twirls, slashing at the yamardu’s legs. The creature lunges for him once more. It has eyes only for its prey and doesn’t notice as I dive behind it.
I take off at a sprint toward the woods, but one of the creature’s wings catches me in the chest before I’m free. My breath expels in a painful whoosh, and I’m tossed backward, landing hard on my spine.
I scramble backward as the yamardu suddenly turns toward me. With horror, I realize blood drips from a small cut above my brow. Shaw’s eyes flash, taking the hesitation to lunge forward and stab the beast in the back. The yamardu rears up with another piercing scream, but his focus on me doesn’t waver. He’s scented his next meal and won’t give it up easily.
“Mirren!” Shaw shouts and I look over just in time to see him toss me one of his daggers. I claw at it, lifting it just in time to see the yamardu crashing down toward me, talons flashing. Its beak is knife-edged and gleaming and it opens in a bellow of fury as I shove the dagger into its chest.
Hot breath buffets me as it shrieks. Blood coats my hands, sticky and viscous. Shaw grabs me by the waist, hauling me up and pulling me back. His heart beats wildly against his chest, but his face is calm and steadfast as he yanks me to my feet and pushes me behind him.
He brings up another dagger, slashing it deftly across the membrane of the yamardu’s wing. The creature screams in rage and swipes at Shaw, battering him back with a powerful blow. Shaw struggles to get back to his feet, but his body buckles. Adversary defeated, the yamardu turns on me. I scream as it lowers its beak, black and gleaming.
An arrow sprouts from the yamardu’s chest. It yowls in rage, as the first is followed by three more.
In the trees, a woman, dressed in the warlord’s regalia, nocks another arrow. Shaw spots her the same time I do, but if he has a vendetta to settle against the warlord’s soldier, the yamardu must take precedence. He rolls in front of me as another ear-piercing scream rattles my brain against my skull. I throw my hands over my ears, sure they’re bleeding, and the scream will be the last thing I ever hear.
The yarmardu bears down on us as Shaw meets my eyes. Nothing remains of his soulless mask, panic and determination now burning freely on his face. Something passes between us, something unnamed and wild, but I don’t stop to examine it. This is the Dark World, and Shaw has made it clear that it is me or him.
I choose me.
I slash out, running his own dagger over his forearm. Crimson blood blooms, but it is nothing compared to the fury that blooms in his eyes. Realization washes over him, that I led the creature here purposefully. Shaw lunges for me but I scramble out of his reach just as the yamardu crashes down against him once more.
Creature and man go flying in a tangle of limbs and wings, but I don’t stop to watch. I run toward the woods, toward the soldier.
She lowers her bow immediately. “Let’s get out of here, girl,” she says, her voice direct and clipped. “I don’t care to be around when that thing finishes with him and finds it’s still thirsty.”
I look over my shoulder once. Shaw fights for his life, ever nimble. His eyes flash between me and the soldier. “Don’t! Mirren, don’t go with her!” he yells. Blood streams everywhere now and his eyes are mad with panic.
Run, Mirren.
