She put her hands to her mouth and waved her fingers like spider pincers. Koszmar almost tripped, stumbling backward.
“Nuh-uh,” he stammered as Felka advanced on him with her spider fingers. “No—stop that!”
He skirted back out of the way, and Felka gave chase. Lukasz watched, laughing. His fingers snapped at the small contraption in his right hand. Click, click. His laughter had a devilish tilt to it.
“It’s not funny!” hissed Koszmar, dancing out of Felka’s way.
“Don’t run too far,” warned Lukasz as Koszmar tripped over a saddle. “Or you’ll meet the real thing.”
Koszmar stopped dead, and Felka crashed into him.
Jakub Rybak returned at that moment with an armful of dry wood. At the sight of him, the beginnings of Ren’s good mood evaporated. Czarn looked up from licking his scarred paw. Ren could practically feel the hatred radiating from him.
Leaving Koszmar alone, Felka hauled a pot from the army-issue camp gear. Together, she and Lukasz began carefully preparing what they called a “hunter’s stew.” Still with an eye on Jakub, Ren listened to Felka’s chat about how the dish usually included cabbage and a selection of sausages, but how tonight, the nocnica would replace the usual meats. Across the fire, Koszmar sat staring at their dinner with abject horror.
Ren felt oddly touched that Lukasz had spoken to Ry?. Cared enough—or been wary enough?—to heed her laws. The memory of his heart pounding under her fingertips came back to her.
No games, they had promised. Shaken hands.
It occurred to her that were it not for the Dragon, she might never have met him. And for some strange, irrational reason, the realization lit a glow in her heart.
Lukasz glanced up. Black hair hung messily over one dark eyebrow. His eyes narrowed, and when he smiled, her stomach flipped. The corner of his lip curved upward. His eyes glittered.
Ren looked away.
16
FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS, they moved steadily in the direction of the Mountains. Lukasz kept Franciszek’s notebook in his coat pocket, and even just knowing it was there gave him a sense of hope he hadn’t felt in weeks.
If anything, during those three days, he was almost happy. The routine of things somehow reminded him of the old days—the first days—before the hotel rooms and the palaces, before the gold and the glory. He liked the wild dark beyond the campfire. He liked the whisper of unseen things. He liked the hunt and the gamble.
He liked, he realized, the company.
Every night, Lukasz and Jakub shared a watch, and Jakub did his best to teach Lukasz his letters. But Franciszek had been right: he had put off learning for a long time, and it had gotten harder while he ignored it.
“Is there somewhere else you would rather be?” asked Jakub.
Lukasz glanced up. The pair of them were seated on a fallen tree, about thirty feet outside the light of the fire. The others were getting ready to sleep for the night, and he and Jakub had an old camp lantern. Strange moths fluttered up to it. They smelled like vinegar and emitted a faint, haunting melody.
“Sorry.” Lukasz winced and stretched out his shoulder. “My arm itches.”
Jakub Rybak gave him a long, unreadable look.
“They could be venomous, you know,” he said. “I think we may be the first people to survive their embrace. If you’d let me have a look—”
“It’s fine,” said Lukasz, a little more shortly than he’d intended.
“Not to study it,” said Jakub gently. “Just to see if I could help.”
“It’s fine,” repeated Lukasz. “Let’s just practice, okay?”
Even as he asked, his hand twinged.
Jakub sighed and closed the book.
“Lukasz,” he asked, “why do you need to learn this now? I’ve seen you with that notebook. If you don’t need to read it to understand it, why bother learning out here in the middle of nowhere? Why not wait to go back to Miasto and get a real tutor?”
Lukasz hesitated. Behind them, the others were still crowded near the warmth of the fire. Out here, despite its being late summer, the air was chilly. It reminded him, horribly, of the nawia.
“The only reason I knew about the nawia was because Franciszek told me,” he said at last. “As long as I’m not reading, who knows how much I’m missing? And besides—”
He paused, and then continued:
“Besides, I’m only good at one thing.”
Jakub waited. Made him spell it out.
“I’m only good at hunting dragons,” said Lukasz finally. “I don’t do anything else. I can’t do anything else.”