mouth to say something, but what that was going to be, I’m not sure, because I see the moment he scents my desire. His nostrils flare slightly, his eyes flashing as his pupils dilate like I’ve just given him his favourite perfume, and a low humming emits from his throat. He shifts his weight, and I know if I don’t act, we might do something we’ll both regret. Raising my hand, I place it on his chest to stop him from coming any closer.
I clear my throat, and wait until he lifts his gaze from touch and looks me in the eyes. “I’ll come with you.”
“It will be warmer when we reach the forest,” Vaeril assures me, as I cling to my cloak, the wicked winter winds trying to tear the fabric from my hands. Although winter is turning to spring, the wind is still cold and icy in the early morning and late evenings. Morrowmer, the land where Arhaven is built, is a harsh landscape with very little foliage for cover, and as such we can see for miles. It makes escaping without being seen difficult.
After a terrifying climb from the cave back up the rockface, we hurry along the edge of the cliff. It’s dangerous. The ground has crumbled and worn away in places thanks to the battering it receives from the wind eroding the stone. Large, jagged shards of rock stick up from the ground, which gives us some concealment as we run from one to the other. They’re made of black stone, like that of the cliffs, but remind me of sharp, glistening teeth, and I know I’ll have dreams of being trapped in a giant monster’s gaping maw.
“How far is the forest?” I wish I didn’t sound so out of breath, but my chest is burning. I might have been active as a slave, but that strength came from carrying heavy things and being on my feet all day. Running stamina, I’ve quickly learned, is not something I have much of.
“I can see it now,” he answers from behind the stalagmite type structure we’re hiding behind, squinting into the distance.
I try to do the same and can only see the seemingly unending cliff edge. The benefit of the landscape being so flat is that we can see if we’re being followed. At the moment, we appear to be getting away unnoticed, which I thank the Mother for regularly.
“Are you ready to move on?” he asks, and I simply nod, knowing if I speak my voice will give me away. I understand he’s frustrated that we’re moving at such a slow pace, but unless he’s going to leave me behind, there is nothing to be done about it.
He darts from behind the rock and I follow behind, my chest aching as I try to focus on taking slow, deep breaths. My borrowed boots, while keeping my feet dry, are rubbing at my feet, and the cold makes my bones shake. The only benefit of running is that I get so hot I don’t feel the cold as much. I would never say any of this to Vaeril, we’ve both suffered far worse, but I hate that I sound so whiny in my own head. If I wasn’t so out of breath, I would try to start up a conversation, but I’ve learned he’s not exactly chatty, and I have very little to talk about, so silence seems like the best option.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been travelling. The sun was just rising when we left this morning, and now it’s high in the sky. Looking up, I try to work out how far in its cycle it is when a shadow falls over me, followed by the cry of a large bird.
I know that sound.
My heart thuds in my chest as I freeze, jumping behind one of the rocks and using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I try to identify the bird. The sound is something that will stay with me until the day I die, one I know well, but I have to see it to know if I’m right. I desperately pray I’m not.
The bird is high above us, but even so, I can tell it’s huge, its dark feathered body easy to see in the unusually clear sky. It glides on the thermals as it searches for its prey. As it swoops lower, I see the small green band around its leg and I know I was