Page 8 of Wraithwound

“Do you know of anyone who has managed to survive the change?” she tried again, desperation leaking from her tone.

Leonid shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

It’d been foolish to ask. She’d already known the answer to this question, too.

“Stay hidden in the forest,” he said. “It’s not much safer but better than the roads. There’s been an increase in patrols in this area. They’ll take your head. And if it’s not them, it won’t be long until soulbounds come looking. They’re usually not fond of the Commander’s men, but they’ve been known to work together if the occasion calls for it.”

Lena nodded. She knew he was right. She’d heard the same things. Even as sheltered as she’d been in her village, news always found its way into even the most remote locations in this Goddess forsaken land.

Leonid was packing his now empty bag of dried fruit. He used the tree at his back to stand, rubbing his thigh as he did. Lena stood carefully, mentally assessing the state of her body and newer injuries.

“Thank you. For helping me in there.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, staving off another shudder at the thought of the ghastly, claw-tipped hand.

With a nod, he turned and started walking away. Lena did the same. She made it several paces before Leonid called out to her.

“Lena.”

When she turned, Leonid held out one finger. “I do know one. I don’t know the how. But one.”

Know one? It took her a moment to figure out what he meant, but then understanding crashed over her. Her eyes grew wide, questions rising in her throat, but Leonid was already walking away.

“Good luck, Lena,” he called over his shoulder.

And as she resumed walking, a tiny seed of hope grew in her heart. One person had managed to survive a wraith attack and keep from turning. Somebody had figured it out. It was enough.

Chapter

Eight

The slight throbbing in her left arm slowly morphed into an itching sensation that reached all the way to her fingertips. She did her best to ignore it. But she wasn’t able to ignore the stiffness in her limbs and the throbbing of the bandaged wounds on her chest. Instead, she focused on increasing her pace.

Despite the slight chill in the air, the sun burned through the sparse canopy, warming Lena as fatigue began to set in. Fall was well underway in Reimar, the forest floor now covered with giant brown leaves that crunched underfoot and whispered when the wind slinked through the trees. Despite the enormous branches that crisscrossed above her, it felt increasingly brighter outside the longer she walked. Her eyes strained against the light of the sun, intensifying the headache that was slowly taking root at the back of her skull. Lena pulled at her cloak, hoping to get some air to flow through the thick fabric.

The movement stirred her mother’s scent, the earthy perfume enveloping her. The thought of her mother stole the very air from her lungs, making it painful to breathe. Lena inhaled deeply trying to fill her lungs and winced at the stretching of the skin on her chest and shoulder. The injury was getting worse, heat now rolling off the enflamed flesh. Her wound had become infected, and she wondered what might kill her first. The mortal infection, the wraith, or something else.

After several hours of trudging through the forest, she heard voices filtering through the trees. At first, they were barely audible, but eventually raucous laughter and jeering reached her ears. As she grew closer, the destroyed flesh of her chest began to prickle, and Lena’s mind flashed back to what Leonid had told her.

Avoiding the largest of the leaves, Lena took small, deliberate steps towards the base of a tree. She listened intently to get a sense of who might be out there, but she didn’t have to listen long to confirm her suspicions. Lena glanced around, hoping to spot a way around the area when a woman’s voice caught her attention. Lena’s curiosity warred with her sense of self-preservation, and she halted.

“Let me go!” the woman demanded. “I’m not infected. You’ve held me in this cage for two days now. You’d already be able to tell if I were!”

“You still haven’t told us what you’re doing in these woods. Nobody enters the Overgrown unless they’re trying to stay hidden—” said the gruff voice.

“—or hiding something. You’ll tell us, eventually,” finished another voice.

The exchange was followed by a bang at the metal bars, like the woman had slammed her hands into them in frustration. Lena could not, would not, end up in a cage, but she had no idea how she was going to get away from this group without being seen. She might be able to wait until dark, but traveling the woods at night was not wise. Leonid had not been exaggerating when he said there were more patrols in the area.

Lena crept around the base of the tree looking for someplace to hide. She found a crevice in one of the undulations that lined the base and squeezed into it, summoning the courage to peer out. Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach as she counted. There weren’t only two militia members out there; they were a party of five. A mobile wooden platform was parked towards the back of the camp with a large metal cage set atop of it. Inside was a small, short-haired woman. The men lounged around the fire; a couple of them sat cleaning weapons while another tended to a pot suspended above a blazing fire. The only exception was a larger man who stood at the base of the occupied cage, likely the one that had been threatening the woman.

The loud crack of a tree branch snapping nearby made Lena jump. Everyone at the campground turned to look in her direction. She cursed, wondering if she’d pulled back in time to keep from being discovered.

As she was debating whether to run or wait it out, a large shadow fell over her. Lena looked up to see an enormous animal step towards her on its hind legs. Most of its body was covered in matted fur slick with oozing, black blood, but on its left side, deep lacerations exposed open flesh. The animal stunk of infection, rot, and another familiar stench that she couldn’t place. The healer inside her recoiled at the state of it. An ursus. Large, round head, small ears, and a protruding snout with a black nose, this was the type of animal that you’d hear about in passing but could expect to live your entire life without seeing. Living deep in the woods, they weren’t known to approach humans.

Making herself as small as possible, Lena backed into the crevice and pressed her body into the tree. The creature stood there assessing the camp in front of it before its head angled slightly, and its nose twitched in her direction. Lena froze, expecting the beast to attack, but it merely stood there for another moment before coming down on all fours. The creature swung its head toward her, revealing wholly black eyes and a gash that cut straight through its brow, had missed the eye, and continued down the muzzle.

Lena stood there, face to face with an infected ursus, and while she recognized a sense of terror pulsing through her, she also felt something else. Something like recognition tugging at the back of her mind. She felt sorry for the animal, both awestruck and mystified by what this creature might look like if it weren’t so badly injured or hadn’t been infected. But it was. Then, without warning, the animal charged into the camp with an otherworldly roar.