I feel when I know I’m stronger than her and that she needs my protection. It’s why I’ve been avoiding her. Every time I feel this, I sense that I am moving a few inches closer to something that I won’t be able to undo or step back from.
“I’ll make you your own bow. With a weaker string,” I grunt to her.
I make some excuses to myself to delay making the new bow. I decide I’ll do it in the morning.
But at night, one of the bells goes off. I still haven’t replaced all of them with snares.
I jolt awake. Over the first several nights I would hear bells at night that weren’t really there. I was so paranoid that something would come for us that I couldn’t even sleep, and the bells I heard were purely my imagination. But I haven’t heard a phantom bell for over a week, and this one jolts me awake. It’s not a phantom.
Catherine is sitting awake, on watch duty. She points toward the sound of the bell, still echoing through the forest.
I nod, grabbing my bow.
I still have the autocannon on my wrist, but it’s loud. Our fire is small, but from the distance the bell was set off, they should be able to see it.
They might not see me if I move out to intercept them. And they won’t hear an arrow.
I start to move, but then I look at Catherine. Helpless and wide-eyed.
Fuck.
If I leave her alone, basically to act as bait, I’ll feel the complete opposite of that protective feeling I’ve been avoiding. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.
She’ll slow me down, but I have no real choice.
“Follow me,” I whisper. “Stay close behind.”
She follows me into the dark forest, so close to me that I can smell her. Knowing I’m protecting her keeps my senses sharp and my adrenaline pumping.
I have the bow nocked, but I won’t pull the string back until I have something to hit.
I gesture for her to stop, and we take cover. I have a spot fifty or so feet from the fire and from the path they’d most likely take from the bell to our fire.
I wait for a while, but nothing happens.
Then I hear a grunt.
It’s further away than I expect, as if whatever set off the bell heard it and ran.
I grab Catherine by the hand and pull her up. “Stay on my tail.”
If they sent a scouting party, I can’t let any of them get out of here alive. That’s how I’ll protect us--protect Catherine--by making sure I kill anyone trying to get away.
I don’t run at first, but when I see the tribesman flailing upside down in the noose, hanging by his ankle, I do run.
I see the other one. There’s only one more. I nock my arrow and pull the string back. I steady my breathing and take aim. The wind is blowing just enough that I need to aim a little off to the left. I aim up to arch the shot to compensate for his distance. Fuck, it’s going to be a miracle if I hit him.
I let go. It’s so dark that I can’t even see the arrow after a few feet, but I can see the shadowy figure in the light of the moons, and I have a good mental image of how fast the arrow should travel. I sense the moment when the arrow should hit. It passes. Then another second passes. Another still, and the man is still running full speed. I missed.
Shit! He’s going to tell the tribe we’re here. How long do we have then?
17
Catherine
“Krakon,” I say, panting as I catch up to him. “Just shoot him with your wrist gun thing.”
He looks at me with a confounded expression, then laughs.
He points his fist toward the figure, and a loud boom comes from his wrist. The muzzle flash illuminates his face for a brief moment, and the man collapses in the distance.
“I was so fixated on the bow,” Krakon says. “I almost let him get away.”
“Good thing I was here,” I say. “What do we do with the other one?”
Krakon makes me get behind him, and he nocks the bow again as he approaches the screaming man caught in the booby trap.
He points the arrow at him. “How many of you are there?”
The man says something, but I don’t understand him.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“I don’t really speak their language,” he says. “It’s a very old form of our