“You cunts better hope you fucking die during the Ascent. Because if you make it out, I’ll be waiting, and my wolf will tear you to pieces.”
Big words, from someone who was just in the dirt. I wait to be sure he’s actually gone before turning around to the woman behind me.
She’s pulled herself up and is brushing the dirt and slush off her clothing, breathing heavily.
Our eyes meet. “Thank you,” she breathes. At that moment, her sister appears by her side.
“Izabel.”
The women clasp each other in a brief hug before breaking apart so that their hands have space to move rapidly in a pattern of communication I can’t hope to follow. My eyes bounce back and forth between them, dizzied by the speed of their communication.
Cutting herself off mid-gesture, the second woman turns to me. Up close, she’s the mirror image of her twin—same golden skin, same dark eyes—and the only difference is her chin-length hair.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have a clue what we’re saying. And you saved her. My sister.” She gulps a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m Venna. That’s Izabel,” she waves toward her sister. “I’m hard of hearing so it’s easier sometimes to sign.”
Izabel smiles at me, gratitude in her eyes.
“It was no problem,” I assure them. “I have zero tolerance for people who fight dirty, and can sense a rat from a league away. I’m glad you’re okay.”
Izabel has started to stalk back and forth, staring off at where the man disappeared into the rush of bodies. Her eyes are ablaze with fury. “Thatrat’s name is Jonah. He’s been after me ever since I turned him down a fortnight ago. Of course he’d try to attack me here, not even properly on the mountain. That fucker.”
Her hands flash again toward her sister, and Venna signs back at her as she says aloud, “I know, I thought you were right behind me.” Izabel winces.
I uncork my waterskin and take a quick drink, swishing it around in my mouth while I decide what to do next. The crowd is thinning, so it might be my cue to head to that slower path, perhaps keeping to the rear where I can stay out of the path of assholes—or help anyone else who has fallen behind. I check the straps of my packs, re-sheath my dagger, and then turn to say goodbye to the two women.
Izabel and Venna have been conversing again, and as I open my mouth to speak, Izabel spins toward me and says, “Right then. You’ll join us on the Ascent.”
Huh.
“That’s really not?—”
Venna and Izabel exchange a loaded look “You saved Izabel’s life,” Venna says simply. “So now we’ll save yours.”
“I’ll be fine,” I protest. “I’m going to take the slow path. I’m not interested in Bonding.”
Izabel shakes her head sharply. “It’s not any safer, not really. Especially if you’re alone. People are terrified and cold and hungry, they lash out at each other. It’s a bloodbath. Plus there are the pricks like Jonah who pick off a few recruits here and there just to see if they have any good gear to grab.”
I purse my lips, looking toward the ever-thinning crowds.
Venna clasps her hand around my forearm before I can continue to protest. “There’s safety in numbers for this climb, trust us. I know you can protect yourself, I saw how fucking amazing you were just now when Jonah jumped Izabel. But you need someone watching your back.”
Izabel nods emphatically.
I shift back and forth, my boots gripping the ground awkwardly with the metal crampons. It’s possible they’re right.
After all, I wanted to follow Lee’s advice to go up the mountain with an ally, and I can tell they’d be good ones. Their packs of gear look new and sleek, and they’re both my height or maybe even a touch taller, with broad shoulders and strong-looking legs. The way they move betrays years of training, like dancers… or pit fighters.
Fuck, Izabel was on the ground under her wannabe murderer just moments ago, and she’s already back in a fighting stance, ready to get moving.
But following them would go against my entire plan. The wind picks up in a harsh whistle, whipping across my face, and I turn my head to brace myself against it. I notice the two Bonded riders are still waiting at the base of the mountain, watching and waiting as the recruits clear out.
With a jolt, I realize that Stark Therion is staring me down, his gaze nothing short of malevolent. His feral black direwolf bares its teeth, and while I can’t hear it from this distance, I can tell that it’s growling at me.
A thought hits me with absolute certainty: if I take the slow path, that wicked man and his wicked wolf are going to hunt me down. The only way to survive is to go where they can’t follow.
I cock my head at the twins. “Well. After you, then.”
We’ve barely begunand we’re already scrambling over gigantic slabs of rock, using tree trunks and branches to leverage our way over massive boulders covered with sheets of ice and snow. The path, if it can be called a path, doesn’t wind back and forth the way any sane person would make their way up a mountain.
