Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,18

long moment. She’d forgotten about the hill. She was even denser than she’d given herself credit for.

She sat up, inspecting her body in the dim light of the second moon. Warm liquid trickled down her arm, but she barely felt any pain at its source. I’m fine. She breathed deep. Calm down. You’re alive—now don’t get yourself killed. Even an idiot like you can help put the fire out.

She stood and blinding pain from her ankle knocked her right back down.

Kira hissed and gently pressed at her leg. Everything felt like it was in the right place. She’d probably just twisted it on the way down.

She got up again and screamed as lightning shot through her. She collapsed and bit her lip. Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t make any noise.

Ryon’s words echoed through her memory: “The Gnarled Wood is no place for a girl in her pajamas.”

The d’hakka were why her father had forbidden his children from crossing the border and entering this decaying forest. Giant, man-eating tree scorpions.

And now she had no weapons. As if she could fight a d’hakka in the first place.

Kira tentatively put weight on her ankle again. The answer was a resounding negative.

Tears of a different sort welled up in her eyes. How far away from home was she, exactly? Could she make it by hopping on one leg? She’d make ten times the amount of noise.

She settled her back against the tree and rubbed her sore ribs. Running after that man was, undisputedly, the most brainless thing she’d ever done. Except maybe thinking she could fight him.

Kira leaned her head back and stared up at the stars through a maze of pine needles. She hadn’t even told anyone she was leaving. And they probably wouldn’t have seen her go because of the panic around the fire, its blinding light drawing all attention.

She couldn’t blame the goddess anymore. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself.

She held her ankle and wept.

10

RYON

Ryon’s heart clenched as Kira ran away from him like a fawn from a wolf. “Gut you like one of your tasty little chickens?” He grimaced. Well, she wouldn’t leave, so . . .

Kira disappeared between the pines’ thin shadows, and Ryon sighed and released his invisibility before it could drain him any further. He retrieved her blade from where she’d dropped it and winced at the shock that rippled through his shoulder. Still should have thought of something less creepy.

He slipped the throwing knife into his belt beside the first and considered searching for the second knife she’d thrown. No—his shoulder moaned for attention like a dying flop-whale. The fight with Kira must have nullified the pain-numbing effect of the blissroot.

Ryon adjusted his makeshift sling and glanced to the east. Normally he’d have stopped to sleep hours ago. But Jadenvive was still a long trek away, and if Kira could track him all the way out here, so could the Imperial soldiers.

He popped a honey drop in his mouth before resting his pack on his good shoulder. The crystallized candies were meant for the orphans, but if he didn’t have the energy to get back home in time, they’d be a lot worse off without a provider.

A scream skittered through the forest behind him.

Kira?

Ryon turned and ran after the cry before he could think. But the forest fell quiet once again until a hesitant cricket chirped. He stopped and listened.

Quiet sobbing muffled through the night to his right and below, where the earth dove into a steep descent.

Ryon snapped his fingers and a bundle of pine cones on a branch above him burst into flame, illuminating the forest with harsh light and stark shadows. He spotted a human form through the trees, then snapped again to snuff his fire out.

Falling down a hill . . . that’s what running through a dark forest will get you.

Apparently Kira hadn’t noticed his light—her back was to him. Ryon allowed his eyes to adjust to the scattered moonlight again as he watched her silhouette, waiting for her to stand up and move.

She didn’t. She just sat there and cried.

Ryon ignored the call of empathy and instead glared at her with a new height of annoyance. Hadn’t he mentioned the d’hakka? Hadn’t he told her to run? Had he not scared her badly enough with his ridiculous chicken-gutting claim?

He started toward her as quietly as the dry mulch would allow. He took careful time in rounding Kira with a wide berth until he could determine what she was weeping over.