I’d meant it when I told him I trusted him. For the first time in months, I didn’t have to carry this burden alone. The relief was so intense it made my knees weak. But it also terrified me. What if trusting him got him injured or killed or ended up destroying the first good thing I’d found in forever?
Every person I’d let close since had either betrayed me or been hurt because of me. They’d broken the arm of the waitress at that diner in Colorado who’d hidden me in her car when syndicate men came asking questions. They’d ransacked the house of the elderly couple who’d rented me a room in their basement in Michigan.
For the first time in years, I had something precious to lose again.
“We’ll go out the back,” he said.
I nodded.
We slipped out into the darkness beyond. The night air felt cool against my face, still damp from the earlier storm. Cloudsscudded across the sky, blocking the bit of moonlight struggling to filter down.
The fields behind Lonesome Creek stretched out in an ocean of tall grass and wildflowers. In daylight, it probably looked peaceful. In the darkness, with my nerves stretched to the breaking point, it looked like perfect cover for anyone hunting us.
I stumbled almost immediately, my foot catching in a hidden rut. Hail’s hand shot out to steady me, and I realized he could see much better than I could in the dark.
“Sorry,” I gasped, my ankle protesting the twist.
“Take my hand,” he said. “I’ll guide you.”
His warm palm, callused from pottery work, completely engulfed my smaller fingers. With his guidance, I moved more confidently through the uneven terrain, but my heart continued racing with every step.
The grass was tall enough to brush against my thighs, and I kept imagining people crouched in it, waiting to leap as we passed. Every rustle made me tense, every shadow looked like a person. My breathing was too loud, my footsteps too heavy. Surely anyone tracking us would hear me coming from miles away.
“Breathe,” Hail said, squeezing my hand. “You’re doing fine.”
But I wasn’t doing fine. I was falling apart, my nerves fraying already. The adrenaline that had carried me through packing and leaving was wearing off, leaving me shaky and hypersensitive to every sound.
A night bird called somewhere to our left, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Hail paused, listening, then continued forward. How could he tell the difference between normal sounds and potential threats? For all I knew, we could be walking into a trap.
We continued for what felt like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes, aiming for the forest bordering the valley. My legs ached from the uneven terrain and the constant tension. My ankle throbbed where I’d twisted it. Sweat dampened my shirt despite the cool air.
When we reached the woods, Hail continued inside, taking a narrow game trail that looked like it might eventually make its way all the way to the mountains encircling the valley. The forest was a wall of darkness that could hide anything. Will Carmichael’s people could be watching us right now. They could be setting up an ambush, waiting for us to feel safe before striking.
“What if they’re following us?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
“They didn’t,” Hail said with too much confidence.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’d-I’d know.”
“How would you know?”
He paused and turned me to face him, stroking my cheek with his knuckles. “I would’ve heard them. Seen them. We’re still alone.” He glanced around. “There might be a squirrel or two near-nearby or maybe a chumble mama and her b-b-babies, but there are no people. I’d not only see or hear them, but I’d also smell them.”
“Smell them?” Orcs must have heightened senses. Oh, god, did I reek? Probably. I felt like I’d run a marathon without a bit of training. He, however, looked cool and collected. Confident about this world in a way I should be, not an orc newly arrived to the surface.
“It’s subtle,” was all he said.
I found the certainty in his voice comforting. He seemed to have senses I didn’t understand, abilities that went beyond normal human perception.
Hail urged me around a thick mess of brambles, where he crouched, tugged me down low beside him, and pressed a finger to his lips. We waited in absolute silence, watching the fields we’d crossed, the thread of a trail. My pulse thundered in my ears.
Tressa sat perfectly still beside us, her ears pricked forward, listening for any sound that didn’t belong. Her calm was as reassuring as Hail’s words. Animals had instincts about danger that humans often missed.
Minutes passed like hours. Nothing moved except grass in the wind and a few night birds calling. My legs cramped from crouching, and I had to bite my lip to keep from shifting position.
Finally, Hail nodded as if his suspicions had been confirmed. He squeezed my hand and led me out of the thicket and deeper into the trees.
