I jump down into the snow. “Brrr. I’m going to freeze my snowballs.”
It may be cold and gloomy under these trees, but I feel freaking free right now.
I hadn’t realized how the walls of the academy had made me feel so penned in. My centaur likes this wild outdoor space.
“We need to start hiking, we’ll lose daylight in an hour.” Bossy old Feniks. But when I look at Tee’s red nose, it makes me want to whisk her away to a roaring fire in a cute, snuggly cabin asap.
If she gets wet, I can strip her down, rub her dry…and then make her wet all over again. Soaking, in fact.
“Donovan.”
Oh right.
So off we hike. Feniks is using a handheld GPS thing, and making silent arm signals when we need to change direction. It’s all very Navy SEALs. No, wait. The navy is at sea, not land.
Whoa. Seals! That’s why they’re called Navy seals, they slither around on the ice, then dive sneakily into the water.
What are hardcore land soldiers called? No idea.
We finally turn left on one of ‘Team Leaders’ hand gestures and arrive at the ‘safe house.’
Safe cabin.
If your definition of a safe is a pile of damp logs held together with pine sap and bird shit. It’s a squat shabby building that would be played by Gimli if it was in Lord of the Rings.
“Nobody tosses a dwarf,” I announce as I pull open the creaky door.
“Max, Donovan, check the perimeter. See if there’s anything within half-a-mile of here, the map says not but who knows,” Feniks snaps.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” I salute, but he turns his back on me and starts waving his hands around, casting the keep-away spell on the little shack.
The wind whistles through the trees. Windward Forest is aptly named. The air up here is so crisp, it’s like biting into a cold carrot.
On my circuit, I spot nothing of interest apart from a rusted-out campervan that looks straight from a horror movie, and some hoof-tracks that my inner centaur reliably informs me come from deer.
Heading back to base, I suddenly get a ‘whoa nelly’ from my horse.
What’s up, boy?
Following my gut, I stealthily climb a snowy rise.
On the other side is a track running through the trees. Snow and mud are churned up like vehicles head this way frequently. “Interesting, very interesting.” I take out my phone and do a few snaps, then decide to follow the road. Sneakily, like a ninja, of course.
Sometimes two human feet are better than four hooves.
My centaur is practically vibrating. He smells them before I see them.
Cigarette smoke.
I drop into a crouch behind a frost-covered boulder, my heart doing a gallop against my ribs. About fifty yards away, a couple of dudes in snow-camo are hanging out.
Moving from boulder to prickly bush I get closer and strain my ears to listen in.
Come on, you assholes, say something helpful.
“...you think we’ll get to break in this new batch?” one says, grabbing his crotch.
My fists curl.
