A week of torturous travel, the freezing weather the least of any of our concerns. Every night was filled with the fear that those creatures, the dread feeders, would reappear to wreak havoc upon our minds once more. Every breaking of a twig, every rustle of the trees had me waking, my breath catching with fright.
None of the others appeared to fare much better.
The shadows constantly danced on the edges of my mind, a hissing melody that I could never ignore. Over and over they sang that the timewas drawing near, that Imustrelease some of the blessed magic that was a turmoil within my blood.
But I couldn’t.
Couldn’t wander from the light of the fire or sneak away to release the inky tendrils and let them breathe. It was pure torture. It was making me restless, near feverish with its intensity.
I knew we were close to our destination. Could feel the pull of the sea where a break in the mountains allowed it to rush and rage against the jagged fjords. Another day and perhaps we’d reach it.
And I prayed, so desperately, that we would find what we needed. That this quest would end.
I was tired, past the point of exhaustion.
Even as we set camp for the night, the fire burning bright as the sun slowly dropped from the sky, my body begged for respite.
Bran approached me as I sipped the warm broth that made our supper for the night, foregoing the dried meat that floated within. We had long since ran out of anything fresh. His eyes danced over my face, sullen and worried. “You don’t look well.”
My brow rose. “None of us do.”
His lips pursed as he shifted in the snow, his shoulder nudging mine as he gave me a knowing gaze. “True enough, but you, my dearest friend, have that look again.”
My nails cut into the flesh of my palms, my gloves forgotten upon the snow littered ground. My voice came harsh. “What, that of aghost?”
Bran was quiet for a long moment before a sigh came, weary and concerned. “Sy, I—”
“Forget it.” I snapped, eyes fixed to the fire. “I don’t want to speak of it, Bran.”
“Have you spoken to him at allsince—”
“I said to forget it!” The words were too loud, too harsh. I regretted it instantly, but the apology stuck in my throat. The already quiet camp went utterly silent as the words echoed through the trees.
He didn’t leave, didn’t even flinch, though my ears rang with the rage melded into every syllable I had spat at him.
Bran didn’t balk, didn’t falter. He never had, he simply unfurled the blanket in his hands and placed it gently around our shoulders, his touch so light as he placed a hand over my trembling shoulder.
My lip quivered, teeth sinking into it as I shook my head and swallowed thickly.
“Come here, Sy.” He murmured softly, drawing me close. He tucked me easily beneath his chin, humming lightly as he rubbed soothing circles upon my back. “It’s okay to let it out. No one here will say a thing after, and if they do, I’ll cut out their tongues and feed them to those awful dread feeders.”
My laugh was breathy and strained as silent tears fell. Burying my face into his shirt, I clung to him as I shook with the grief, fear, and the exhaustion that had plagued me now for days. The things that had turned me into a husk of who and what I was.
I hated grief. I hated that every time I thought I could move forward, that I could finally heal, it pulled me back to drown in its misery once more.
His body rocked lightly, as though I was a child to soothe to sleep. “Burying it down does no good, it only harms you. Let it out now.”
A strangled sob escaped. How many times had he said that to me, how many times now had I not listened?
“I—I saw her,” I cried and he nodded, no explanation needed. He knew exactly what I meant, always did.
“I know, I saw him too.” He murmured back, arms tightening around me. His father, he must’ve seen his father. My arms circled his waist, hugging tight.
We sat there for minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell. I don’t know when the others had left to their tents to lend us privacy, but they did. Only Roan remained, his back to the stump of a tree as he sat guard, his gaze fixed to the wild woods. Bran saw where my gaze went and nudged me gently.
“Go,” he urged. “It’s been days since you’ve spoken more than two words to anyone. I’m sure he’s worried.”
My hesitation must have been evident because he tilted my face up to his, wiping away the tears that streaked my cold cheeks. “Allow yourself to be happy for once, Sy. I can only guess what your terrors showed you that night, but don’t let them takeanythingelse from you.”
