The sun was deceptive beyond the branches of bristlecone. She did not know how much time had passed. Her stomach began raving with hunger and so she sat on a small boulder by the creek to rest and eat. Immediately the feelings of dread and worry exploded inside of her. She had to keep going. She pushed away from the boulder and ignored the hunger as best she could.
Her mind was a jumble. It took concentration to avoid the pitfalls that would twist an ankle, but the pace did give her some time to think. Somehow her father was involved in all of this. That her father was even alive was a complete revelation to her. She had assumed that he was dead, killed during the last bout of Plague because he had the fireblood. Winemiller had never even mentioned the possibility of him being alive. Why had her father sent the Vaettir prince and not come himself?
She wished now that she had gone with Prince Aran and not put Trasen’s life in danger. She did not know the Prince’s abilities, but he was obviously someone her father had trusted with her safety. It was the nature of those from Stonehollow to be wary of strangers. Master Winemiller had not trusted him either, but she knew he was even more wary than most. Her feelings were conflicted. If she could just make it back to the homestead, perhaps she would find them both there and determine what to do next.
A loud crack of a branch sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder but could not see anyone, but the sound was nearby. The feelings inside her fanned even more, driving her faster. She started to run. Her throat was parched, but she dared not scoop up some water from the creek. Her head buzzed with fatigue. There was no path through the woods and she found herself slogging through thick brush and maneuvering around twisted bristlecone somehow growing from cracks in enormous boulders.
The creek continued to snake its way down, her alongside it, until at last she reached a pond, choked with scum and moss. The water there would be undrinkable, so she knelt by the brook’s edge before it spilled there and gulped down some water quickly. It made her dizzy but the water was delicious.
Stopping even that short amount of time caused a wave of panic inside her. She splashed through the pond and crossed it. If her bearings were right, she was heading back toward the valley of Stonehollow. Her leg muscles burned. Relentlessly, she continued. After crossing a small meadow, she saw that there were fewer bristlecone now and more bur oak trees offering shade and more cover. Phae left the meadow behind and entered the shady woods. It felt better. Her heart began to calm. The green of the oddly-shaped leaves was inviting, causing dappled patterns on the forest floor.
She ran her hands along the rough, ridged bark of the oak trees, noticing the strange acorns with their furry caps. Ahead, a dazzlingly big blue jay squawked at her from a branch of an enormous tree. The noise caught her attention. It was as if the bird was speaking to her. She glanced backward and felt a surge of terror. Looking back at the tree, she felt safe. Phae approached it cautiously but quickly. The trunk was huge and wide enough to conceal her entire body. She gazed up at the gnarled branches and velvety green leaves. A butterfly zoomed by her ear, fluttering its wings. It was too beautiful to swat.
She was drawn to the tree in an inexplicable way. Its very presence was a comfort and that puzzled her. Staring up at the branches, she noticed thick bunches of mistletoe crowding around some leaves. She finished circling the trunk and then gazed back at the direction she had come.
The stranger was in the grove with her.
Phae froze instantly, clutching the bark with shock. He was not staring at her but at the tree. She saw him rooted in place, an enemy. She began to shiver with dread, knowing he was too close. He had not seen her yet. Slowly, she pulled back and slid down the trunk until she sat. She tried to make herself as tiny as she could. Even her breath was barely a whisper, despite the hard journey.
Twigs snapped and crunched. He was moving closer.
One thought came to her. If she could look into his eyes, those soulless eyes, she could steal his memory of her. It had not worked before because he was too far away. She hoped that was the reason it had not worked. If she held perfectly still and waited until he found her, she could stare into his eyes and blink, just as she had as a child in the wine barrel. She was not totally sure it would work, but it was the only thing she could try, knowing that even Trasen’s aim with a bow had not stopped him.