"There," Ellie said suddenly, lifting her head. She pointed toward a wooded area ahead where a large lake glimmered through the branches, its surface reflecting what little moonlight broke through the clouds. "Castle Rock State Park. We can land there."
I banked toward it, impressed by her observation. "You know this place?"
"I saw a sign," she admitted with a small laugh, her breath warm against my ear. "About two miles back, when you flew close to the road to get our bearings. I'm not that good at geography."
I didn't believe that. She'd known that the large city we'd flown near hours before was called Chicago and had rattled off the name without hesitation when I'd asked.
I descended toward a clearing near the treeline, my wings beating more slowly as we approached the ground, adjusting to the shifting air currents near the trees. "Castle Rock," I repeated, testing the words on my tongue.
"Yeah. Let's just hope Cujo isn't hanging around."
I landed smoothly, my feet touching down on snow-covered ground with barely a sound, and set her on her feet, keeping one hand at her waist until I unhooked the harness. "Cujo?"
"Stephen King," Ellie said with a grin, shaking the snow from her hair, sending droplets flying. "He wrote this book abouta rabid dog that..." She stopped, looking up at me with those expressive green eyes. "He’s an author that writes fiction. Horror fiction. This guy writes stories about scary things—killer clowns, haunted hotels, rabid dogs. Castle Rock is a fictional town in a lot of his books." She waggled her eyebrows playfully. "I'll tell you some of his stories while we set up camp."
As we worked to set up the tent, she launched into descriptions of Stephen King's tales, her enthusiasm infectious. Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, gesturing wildly to emphasize particular points, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air.
"There's this one about a clown that lives in the sewers and eats children," she said, threading a pole through the tent fabric with practiced ease. "And another about a hotel in the mountains that makes a guy go crazy and try to murder his family with an axe."
I paused in hammering a stake into the frozen ground, looking up at her with raised eyebrows. "Your people enjoy stories of such violence?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, they're not real." She glanced at me, then seemed to reconsider, her expression growing thoughtful. "Though I guess for you, a lot of scary stuff is real. But for humans, horror stories are... I don't know, a safe way to feel afraid. To explore dark things without actually being in danger."
"Curious," I murmured, though I understood the concept. Gudari younglings were told tales of the Void Eaters to teach them caution and to instill a healthy fear of the darkness between stars, where ancient things still dwelled.
"The rabid dog one—Cujo—takes place in a town called Castle Rock." She secured the last pole and stood back to admire the work, hands on her hips. "This big Saint Bernard gets bitten by a bat and goes rabid, and he traps a mother and son in theircar during a heat wave. It's actually really sad because the dog was a good boy before he got sick."
I found myself scanning the darkened treeline as she spoke, my warrior instincts prickling despite knowing these were merely stories. The shadows between the trees seemed to deepen, and I caught myself listening for sounds that didn't belong. I did not spook easily, but I would admit to a newfound wariness as the wind rustled through the branches, making them creak and groan.
"You're very good at making fiction feel real," I said dryly.
Ellie laughed, the sound bright against the muffled quiet of the snow. "Sorry. Probably not the best campfire stories when we're actually camping in the woods, huh?"
"Perhaps save the tales of rabid beasts for when we have actual shelter," I suggested, and she grinned up at me.
I left her to gather firewood, finding suitable branches beneath the snow cover where the pine canopy kept them relatively dry. The physical task was welcome after hours of flight. My muscles settled into the familiar rhythm of work, the burn in my shoulders a good ache rather than pain. When I returned with an armful of wood, I ducked into the tent to find Ellie sitting cross-legged, staring down at the collection of MRE packets spread before her, her nose wrinkled in profound disappointment.
"These are..." She picked one up, reading the label with obvious distaste. "Vegetable crumble. That sounds absolutely disgusting."
I set the firewood down near the entrance, shaking snow from my wings. "They're adequate nutrition."
"Adequate." She wrinkled her nose further. "That's the saddest word in the English language when it comes to food."
I didn't mind the MREs. They tasted far better than the gray gruel and chalky protein bars I'd subsisted on in thegladiator pits, where food was merely fuel to keep us fighting. At least the MREs had variety, even if the flavors tasted muted and strange. But watching Ellie's face, seeing the way her shoulders slumped slightly as she contemplated another meal of reconstituted rations, something in my chest tightened. The least I could do was feed her something that brought pleasure rather than mere sustenance.
"There's a lake nearby," I said. "I saw it when we flew over."
She looked up, confusion crossing her features. "Okay?"
"I could fish."
Ellie blinked at me, then glanced toward the tent entrance where snow continued to fall in the burgeoning dawn, the sky lightening from black to deep gray. "Rickon, it's winter. The lake is probably frozen solid, and even if it's not, the fish aren't exactly biting in this weather. Plus, we don't have any fishing equipment."
I felt my mouth curve into a smirk. "I can fly."
Understanding dawned across her features, followed by something that looked like wonder, her eyes widening. "You mean you'd dive for them? Like a bird?"
"Gudari are excellent swimmers. And I've hunted in water before." I moved toward the entrance, already anticipating the cold shock of the lake, the clean bite of icy water against my skin. "It won't take long."
