Hannah's Hero - Ruby Dixon Page 0,98

since. Something happened, but there’s been no sign of J’shel and I don’t know what to do. I’m trying not to panic, but I fully admit to myself that I am absolutely panicking.

What if that bird ate him? What if he’s dead and I’m sitting here in the tunnel completely unaware that I’m going to have to live without him? A knot forms in my throat and I try to concentrate, to watch the snow. He’d be camouflaged and hard to see.

“We must be ready to go the moment the sky-claw looks as if the chakk leaf has affected him,” Taushen says, and I want to grab his shoulders and shake him because I know that. I know the plan. He’s only repeated it a bajillion times as we’ve stood here in the tunnel, waiting. Thing is, the bird isn’t slowing, and there isn’t any J’shel, and I’m losing my flipping mind waiting.

“Perhaps we should wait a little farther inside,” Brooke suggests. “Back where it’s warm?”

I shake my head. The tunnel entrance is cold, but I want to stay here because I need to see J’shel when he comes back.

Because he’s totally coming back. I refuse to accept any other possibility.

“Hannah,” Brooke murmurs, her voice kind. She gives my arm a supportive squeeze. “I just want you to know that no matter what happens—”

“—J’shel is coming back,” I finish for her. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Wait,” Taushen says, lifting a hand and indicating for us to be silent. His gaze is locked on the sky-claw drifting through the air outside.

“What is it?” I ask. “What did you see?”

He shoots me an irritated look and indicates silence once more. I bite back my angry words, trembling with nerves, and wait for him to speak again.

Then, I see it, too. The sky-claw—Old Grandfather—heads toward its favorite cliff. It wobbles slightly as it lands atop its perch, and then wobbles again as it folds its wings in.

“The chakk leaf,” Taushen murmurs. “It is working.”

“But where is J’shel?” I babble, pushing up to the entrance and staring out at the snow. “I don’t see him. Maybe we should wait a while and see if he comes back.”

“No,” Taushen says. “He was very clear. We go when the sky-claw is drugged and the moons are high.” He points at the sky, where both moons shine brightly almost directly overhead. “It is time.”

“But J’shel,” I protest, stepping back.

“He wants you to leave with us,” Brooke says fiercely, grabbing my arm. Taushen grabs my other one, and then they’re both half-dragging me out of the cave with them. “If he’s out there, he’ll rejoin us. But we don’t know how long the chakk leaf will last so we really have to go.”

I know she’s right. I just…I scan the valley again, choking back the sob that threatens. I just need a sign that he’s all right. A sign that he’s alive, not a sky-claw appetizer.

I see nothing, though. All is still around us.

“Let us go,” Taushen says, voice low. “Follow me and stick to the valley walls. Walk as quietly as you can and as swiftly as you can. No speaking. I will say the word when it is safe.”

I force myself to nod, even though I don’t want to leave.

He’ll catch up, Brooke said. I have to believe that. I know we can’t stay here. I know that. But…I don’t want to go anywhere without him. I don’t want to live here without him, even if he wants me to.

I manage to fight down my panic as we move along the tiny, icy path down the side of the cliff. When my feet crunch on the snow, I look around, but the valley itself is still. It’s quiet—almost too quiet—and it doesn’t help my mangled nerves.

“There’s a lot of dead stuff out here,” Brooke whispers. “Do you smell it?”

Taushen puts a finger to his lips again, indicating we should be silent, and his mate goes quiet. He points at the valley wall, then gestures that we should go forward. Brooke moves into the lead and Taushen moves behind me, to take up the rear—and probably to make sure that I go with them instead of bolting. Even I’m not that stubborn. I know that big-ass bird might only be drugged for a short time and we have to make this count. So I follow Brooke’s lead as she creeps along the wall.

We move through the silent valley, and I try not to breathe the charnel