“Then you take her.” Rowan shoved Lily in Tristan’s direction. “But if she bolts for the woods, her death is on you.”
“Fine. It’s on me,” Tristan replied. He took his shirt from Lily and pulled it back on angrily.
“No, it’s not, Tristan. I’m responsible for me.” Something snapped in Lily. She whirled on Rowan, her anger finally overpowering her fear. “Why the hell would I run into the woods when it’s crawling with monsters? I’m not a frigging moron. And I don’t appreciate being ignored, Rowan whatever-your-last-name-is. Where are you taking me?”
“Like I’d tell you that,” Rowan said, offended, as if she’d asked him for his bank-account number. He turned to Tristan with a sardonic smile. “She’s all yours.”
Lily sputtered impotently at Rowan as he busied himself, collecting useful tools and supplies from the camp. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t his to give away, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was a prisoner—Rowan’s prisoner, apparently—and therefore without much say in the matter. And if she were to be completely honest with herself she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be freed—at least not yet. She had no idea how to get back home and even less of an idea how to protect herself in this strange and dangerous world.
They marched through the near pitch dark of the forest for what seemed like hours. The only light Rowan permitted were the stars whirring overhead, and that feeble illumination seemed to be all he and Tristan needed to move silently through the forest.
Not so for Lily. She could barely see her own hand in front of her face and crashed blindly through the dark. Every time she stumbled over the uneven ground, she could hear Rowan chuff with displeasure. As the night wore on Lily could sense Rowan growing more and more impatient with her, like he thought she was intentionally trying to break every twig and fall down every gopher hole in the damn state. More than once Lily laid herself out flat, landing hard on the heels of her hands in the brittle, frost-covered leaves on the forest floor. After a few hours of this, she was cut and bruised in a dozen places, and by the time she twisted her right ankle so badly it made her cry out loudly, she was already on the verge of tears.
“Quiet, or you’ll get us all killed. You’re not fooling anyone,” Rowan growled as he tugged her roughly up off the ground. “And I won’t tend to that ankle for you so you’d better drop the act.”
Lily wrenched her arm out of his hand, desperately trying not to cry. She put her right foot down to move away from him, and the pain that shot up her leg like lightning was the final straw. Tears that had been gathering in her eyes tipped over and spilled down her cheeks.
Rowan turned away from her with a sound of disgust, whispering the words “so manipulative” under his breath. Lily rubbed the tears off her cheeks and felt their salt sting the scratches on her hands. She took a few deep breaths to quiet her crying. There were still those things—the Woven—out there in the dark, and even though she was lost, confused, and hurt, she knew Rowan wasn’t joking. Any sound she made could alert those things and get them all killed. Still dwelling on the Woven, she startled and nearly screamed when she felt Tristan’s hands cup her ankle.
“This is bad,” he whispered. Lily felt his cold fingers gently prod a spot that was so sore she jerked away spasmodically. “I think it’s broken.”
Lily looked around at the looming forest, growing desperate. She was quite sure that they weren’t anywhere near a hospital. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“I can get you to camp.” Tristan stood up suddenly. Before Lily could figure out what he was thinking, he’d already lifted her and started carrying her silently through the trees.
“Wait,” Lily pleaded. She pushed against his chest, trying to get him to put her down. He even smelled the same as her Tristan. “You can’t—”