“Then by all means, don’t let me stop you.” He spun back downriver and set a grueling pace through the mud and slush that Iryana struggled to keep up with. She lengthened her stride, refusing to complain or lag behind.
Pyetar seemed more than happy to forgo conversation, focusing on the path and the woods around them instead. He was more confident walking through the beast-filled woods than Iryana was, but just as vigilant.
They continued on in silence, weaving through the birch trees. That night’s frost was melting off the naked branches with pattering drips. Iryana was always more diligent in the birch forests, the white and black trunks providing better camouflage for the dakii than cedars and pines.
Soon they left behind the parts of the forest Iryana knew, and she had to focus even harder. They slowed down. Pyetar was being more careful, or his leg was still bothering him.
When the forest grew ominously quiet, she drew to a stop only a step behind him, both recognizing the danger. She saw him looking around as she did the same. Iryana couldn’t be sure, but she suspected there were dakii ahead of them, her senses picking up on something she couldn’t quite place.
Pyetar turned to her, catching her eyes as the shield around him grew thicker, more visible now. She did the same, and he nodded. Something flashed in his pale blue eyes.
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of fighting alongside him, trusting him to guard her back.
He reached out slowly, clasping her lower arm, and gently pulling her toward a large, dense shrub. She wanted to yank away. If they were hiding, she wanted to find her own spot, but she let him lead her. They would fare better together if it came to a fight.
They crouched down behind the mass of green leaves. She was practically tucked into his side, but he didn’t touch her other than that hand on her arm. Iryana forced herself to ignore the threat of his being so close that she could feel the heat emanating off him. They waited, neither moving.
A single dakya finally appeared.
It prowled casually through the forest, but on a path that wouldn’t take it right to them. She’d have a perfect shot.
Iryana reached for her bow, but Pyetar’s hand on her arm stopped her. He shook his head as she glared at him. It was an easy kill. One less dakya in these woods.
She startled when he brought his face right next to hers, but he steadied her with a firm hand on her shoulder. He was uncomfortably close, nearly wrapped around her now.
“It’s a scout,” he whispered, so low she barely heard him. His mouth was almost touching her ear.
“No, not a scout. It’s a hunter.”
Pyetar pulled back far enough that she could see his frown. “What makes you think that?”
“Look at the horns. Scouts are junior members of the pack. Those that hunt alone are not.”
He turned, looking at the dakya that was mostly past them now. It had two sets of black, twisting horns.
“How do you know that?” His tone was disbelieving, like she couldn’t possibly know something about them he didn’t.
“I watch them a lot,” she whispered. “The patterns become obvious after a while.”
He watched her silently, brows furrowed over his blue-gray eyes. She didn’t like the way he watched her.
“Regardless,” his voice rumbled low. “Less chance of drawing attention if we don’t engage them.”
Iryana sighed.
Soon enough, they were walking again. They hiked through the mud and slush all day, moving glacially slow. They didn’t encounter more dakii—although Pyetar led them around a few suspected sightings. By the time dark was falling, they hadn’t made nearly enough ground. Iryana tried not to let her frustration show.
“We should set up camp here,” Pyetar said, looking around at a relatively sheltered clearing.
It was deceptively peaceful looking. Only a few inches of heavy snow, a few dusted rocks, and a dense border of Istrin pines.
She hadn’t slept outside the post, not since they were fleeing through the hill lands. She remembered being tucked into hastily constructed tents every night, curled up with her sisters while her mother whispered stories to try and get them to sleep. Hadima and baby Misha always fell asleep first, leaving Iryana to stare at the shadows of the trees dancing across the tent for hours. Wondering if there were dakii out there.
“Is that safe?” she asked.
Even if it was, she didn’t like the idea of letting her guard down enough around Pyetar to sleep.
“Don’t worry. We won’t be sleeping.”
