That’s what Sivo always said, too, but it didn’t cure my apprehension. I waited a moment longer, listening to their flapping wings fade in the distance.
We traveled steadily thereafter, hearing no more bats. Sometimes we heard dwellers in the distance, their eerie cries bouncing through the forest. I’d hold my breath as we quickened our steps, skirting them, but I knew it wouldn’t always be like that. We had a long way to go and sometimes we were going to have to fight them.
“How much longer until we leave the Black Woods?”
“Another day or two.”
I was almost surprised he answered me. During the last few hours, I had settled into tense silence, thinking over our exchange. We’d never be friends. Clearly, barely tolerated traveling companions were all we would ever be. If Sivo had not extracted a promise from him to take me to Allu, I’m certain he would have abandoned me by now.
“I need to stop,” I announced after a while.
“Soon. Keep going for now.” He kept walking, not bothering to explain why, not bothering to ask why I wanted to stop.
With a huff of frustration, I turned and headed in another direction.
It didn’t take him long to realize I wasn’t following. I suppose he was paying some attention to me after all.
“Wait. Where are you going?” His feet sounded after me, quick thuds on the earth, but I didn’t stop. My chest burned prickly hot. I wasn’t stopping. I wasn’t going to turn around and let him see the weak emotion that made me want to drop my pack, curl up into a ball, and bury my face in my arms and weep.
I’d only ever wanted to leave the tower despite the dangers. I wanted an adventure. But without Sivo and Perla, I felt achingly alone—a fact that didn’t improve with him declaring that we couldn’t be friends.
His hand clamped on my shoulder, and I spun around, pulling away. “I told you I needed to stop.”
“We won’t cover any ground if you need to rest every—”
“Oh, how often have I asked to rest?” I demanded, my temper rising. “I need to relieve myself. Do you mind? Can I have a moment’s privacy?”
He didn’t say anything and I forced myself to face him, hoping he didn’t see any hint of the vulnerability I felt in my expression. I felt his stare as potent as Perla’s mulled cider, a heady thing crawling over my face, seeing everything, missing nothing.
Deciding the silence had stretched long enough, I stomped off to where the wind felt the thinnest, the air circulating less within the dense thicket. Plenty of cover from his gaze.
Not that he would spy on me. A boy that didn’t want to talk to me or be my friend certainly wouldn’t be interested in spying on me as I went about my business.
Strangely, that offered little comfort.
FOURTEEN
Fowler
“DO YOU HEAR that?” Luna’s voice rippled over the chilled stillness, a current swimming in the breathing dark. Her question was the first time she had spoken to me in hours and only a thin thread of sound.
I froze in place and listened, already knowing to trust her ears over my own.
There was nothing at first, simply the rush of blood in my ears and a solitary bat chirping in the far distance. Then I heard it. Them. A low, intermittent rumble of voices, ebbing and increasing and then disappearing altogether.
“They’re . . . people.” Her voice shook a little and I knew that she would have been less nervous had they been dwellers.
I peered into the dark. There were no torches. No flickering fire through the trees. But we were headed straight for them. Or they were headed in our direction. Either way, everything inside me tensed.
I squinted into the opaque air. We could try to skirt them, give them a wide berth, but there was always the possibility that they had their own scouts ferreting the perimeter of their group. Especially if they were soldiers. That was common protocol.
Normally, I would investigate to verify who—or what—was out there. Constant awareness is what kept me alive this long, but I wasn’t functioning under normal circumstances anymore. I had Luna to consider.
“Maybe they’re friendly,” she offered, breaking into the quiet of my thoughts.
I shook my head, tension knotting my shoulders as I stared ahead into the cold ink of dark. A quick glance upward revealed the thick tangle of branches obscuring the moon’s glow. That was being hopeful. She didn’t fully understand. Aside from soldiers, she thought the dwellers were the worst thing out here. She thought everyone else was like us, survivors banding together for a like purpose—to further our existence. She would understand in time.
“Stay here,” I commanded, unloading my pack and adjusting the quiver at my back.
Her shoulders squared, and that rounded little chin of hers went up. I could tell she wanted to argue. Or simply ignore my instructions and follow me. Just like the boy, Donnan. An ugly feeling swept through me at that reminder of him, and my movements became more jerky.
“I’m going with you—”