She laughs. “And how will I do that?”
I grin. “Because I have a duty to protect you, I must guard my life too. Ergo, your mere presence keeps me safe.”
Shaking her head, she chuckles. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic. Although it’s a somewhat circular argument, don’t you think?”
“Are we here to find my hoard, or to debate logic?” My lips quiver slightly as I fight to keep the hint of a smile from invading my best attempt at a stern expression. Rosomon can lighten most every situation for me, and I’ll never tire of her youthful exuberance, her curiosity, or her wit.
“Then what are we waiting for?” she asks. “Or are youfrightened?”
“Frightened?” I laugh. She’s teasing me, pretending it wasn’t her who thought twice about entering this park, after reading the sign.
Taking her hand, I press a kiss against her knuckles, then step onto the cobblestone path.
The trail is easily traversed, but the woods are unusually quiet, as if no bird or animal, not even insects, lives inside them. Already on high alert, this realization doubles my vigilance, and I scan the forest, searching for danger, searching for any sign of life beyond plants, finding none.
I quicken our pace. The sooner we find my hoard, the sooner we can leave this eerie place.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Rosomon says.
Her face is full of joy and wonder. Hasn’t she noticed the strange stillness?
“I’ve never seen such pretty birds,” she says. “So colorful and tiny. They’re like the hummingbirds we have in Achotia, but much brighter.”
My gaze darts through the woods around us. I have far better eyesight than she does, yet see no birds.
“Was that a joke?” I ask. “This forest is devoid of life.” All around us, dark trees loom like sentinels, like harbingers of death.
She laughs.
I hold her hand tightly against my side and quicken our pace. “Are you laughing, because your claim to see birds was a joke?”
“No.” She tips her head to the side, eying me quizzically. “You’re the one who made a joke. How can you not see the birds?”
“Rosomon, there are no birds in this forest.”
She stops, and my next long stride nearly tugs her off her feet. Her eyes are wide, and she shakes her head. “Stop teasing, Zogar. It isn’t funny.” Her body jerks, and her hand leaves mine. “Ow.” She jerks again, touching her arm. “What was that? Ow!”
I can’t see what’s hurting her, so I wrap my arms around her, trying to cover as much of her body as possible.
“Fuck!” Something sharp pricks my leg. And then my arm.
I finally see them, or rather theyletme see them. Sprites! No wonder this park was marked dangerous.
“What are they?” Rosomon asks, her face buried against my chest.
“Sprites. Fire sprites based on their sting.”
“How do we stop them?” She tenses, no doubt stung again.
“They can’t be stopped.” How can I cover every inch of her?
“Why didn’t the sign mention sprites?” she asks. “Ow! They really sting.”
“That they do.” I grit my teeth against the intense burning. They seem to be particularly attacking my arms, as if trying to get to her. “Sprites sting,” I say as calmly as I can, under the constant barrage, “but they’re harmless.”
Her body twitches in pain. “This is harmless?” She trembles in my arms.
“The stings leave no lasting damage.” At least not to bodies. But many have been driven mad by sprites. “I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
