The Wind's Call (The Broken Lands #4) - T.A. White Page 0,19
with determination, Eva held her hand out to Ollie, waiting expectantly for the salve. He looked from her to Hardwick with a touch of uncertainty.
Hardwick dipped his chin down in the barest of nods. With a sigh, Ollie reached into his satchel and pulled out the balm, placing it carefully into Eva's waiting hand. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Eva hoped so too, if she was honest.
She stepped around him without speaking, striding past Fiona and Roscoe as she channeled a confidence that felt far away.
Hardwick and Fiona followed close behind as Eva led the way up the hill. She was the first to reach the crest, her eyes rising to meet the mythological's glare as his teeth closed inches from her face. Her reflexive jerk nearly sent her tumbling back down the hill. A muffled curse escaped Hardwick as the mythological's attention shifted to him next.
Hardwick moved with the practiced ease of someone who had been dealing with temperamental horses all his life, stepping sideways as he dodged having a chunk torn out of him.
Fiona spat a nasty word as she crouched, her hand going to the hilt of her sword.
The mythological stayed where he was, guarding the top of the hill as he bared his teeth.
Eva's heart thumped at the close call as she took stock of the situation. The mythological was acting like a new mama who saw a threat to her foal. He was aggressive because he was afraid, and he didn't trust any of them.
She could understand that. She wouldn't trust two leggers if they'd done to her what they'd so obviously done to the winged horse.
Still, she couldn't walk away. Not with his pain pulling at her. It was a low persistent buzz beneath her skin, singing a jarring lullaby of discomfort. She couldn't imagine how much worse it was for him.
When he snaked his head toward her again, coming dangerously closing to taking a bite out of her arm, she smacked his muzzle away. "I thought we already had a talk about being rude to the people who are trying to help you."
The mythological stared at her, his snout edging toward her again as if to test her boundaries.
Her fingers closed into a fist and she showed it to him. "You treat me polite, and I'll treat you polite. Continue to try to bite me and I'll clobber you."
The mythological settled back, letting out a sound very much like Caia when she was in trouble.
When he remained where he was, only twitching as Fiona stopped beside her, Eva gave him a prim look and showed him the ointment in her hand. "This is an ointment for your wounds. It'll help keep them from getting infected."
The mythological eyed the ointment, the expression on his equine face as suspicious as Eva had ever seen.
She waited to see what he'd do.
He stamped a rear hoof, his wings rustling before he nodded his head up and down several times.
Eva released the breath she'd been holding. Finally.
"Will you take his left side?" she asked Hardwick.
He nodded.
Together, the two of them moved toward the mythological as Fiona hung back, one hand on her weapon as she stood guard.
Hardwick's expression darkened when he caught sight of the wounds. Despite the fury on his face, his hands were exceedingly gentle as he spread ointment over the numerous gashes and lacerations covering both the wings and the neck.
He and Eva moved over the horse's body, careful not to miss any wounds. Nightfall had come in truth, only the light of the mostly full moon and stars making their task possible.
Eva's neck was tight and her back sore, her hands covered with the ointment when she finally stepped back, hoping she'd gotten everything. Hardwick did the same on the other side minutes later.
"Eva," Fiona called softly.
Eva glanced wearily in the other woman's direction, going still at the sight of the man beside her. This was the second time in one day she’d encountered him. Strange, after months of avoiding him unless it was to summon his mount.
Caden, leader of the Warlord's Anateri, watched her with an enigmatic gaze, his thoughts locked away and impossible to read. He was short for a Trateri, but still taller than the men of Eva's old village.
His body was powerful and compact, his chest broad and his arms muscular. Eva had seen for herself the power and speed he was capable of. He killed as easily as he breathed.