They looked around at the silhouettes of one another. Lief’s voice rang out. “Daybreak is in a few hours. We can track it thoroughly in the light, but we’ll be wasting precious time. And if rain comes, all will be lost.”
Paxton did not want to stop. Volgan glanced his way and seemed to read his mind, lifting his chin haughtily. “I say we continue on, my lord.”
“A storm comes. We have no supplies,” one of the Zorfinans pointed out in a broken accent.
“Then run back home where you’re safe and sound,” Volgan spat.
Paxton stopped the glowering Zorfinan from moving forward.
“It is suicide to go in ridgelands in cold,” the Zorfinan said to Paxton. The man was shivering already, accustomed to the dry heat of the Zorfina deserts, his clothing and head scarf too lightweight for these temperatures.
Volgan chuckled under his breath, and Paxton could no longer stomach it. He stepped close to the hairy man and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you, once and for all.”
Volgan’s eyes widened at Paxton’s threat, his hairy lips open, but Lief stepped between them and gave his man a push backward. “Our fight is not with one another. I was going to suggest some of the men stay here anyway, in case the beast comes back down.”
The seven Zorfinans gave tight nods of agreement. Paxton turned to Tiern, who was slightly shivering, too. He spoke to his brother under his breath.
“You should stay here.”
“No,” Tiern ground out, standing taller. He’d always been lean, which gave him no protection against the cold. Paxton quietly sighed.
Harrison stepped up and clasped both brothers on the shoulders. “I’m going.”
None of the Ascomannians volunteered to remain. They seemed immune to the cold and would do anything to impress Lord Alvi. So be it.
Just a few hours until the sun is up and warmth returns, Paxton told himself as they set off into the cold night.
Chapter
27
Rozaria clutched her cloak tightly against the bitter wind, cursing the Lochlanach climate. She missed the constant heat of Kalor, but her mission was too important to let personal comfort hinder her. She dug a pair of leather gloves from her deep pockets and slid her frozen hands inside—all the better to hide her nails. Gloves were frowned upon throughout Eurona for that very reason, but few would question it in this weather.
She knew the hunters had come this way. Hundreds of townspeople lined the Eurona River with bonfires, celebrating how they’d helped the hunters give chase. Fools. The beast could not be so easily killed.
Into the trees she went, with her silent company of one. For an hour they trudged as cold rain began to fall and the grounds began to slope upward. Rozaria was not prepared to enter the mountains of Toresta. She was about to turn and go back when she heard murmured voices ahead in the darkness. She stilled, and her companion followed suit.
Slowly, the two women crept forward until they spotted seven men huddled together for warmth. She recognized the head wraps of the drylands, and she held back a chuckle. These men knew even less about how to handle themselves in the freezing rain than she did. At least she could start a fire with her hands if needed. What pathetic excuses for hunters.
“Stay hidden for now,” Rozaria said to the girl at her side, “unless I need you.”
The girl nodded from the depths of her dripping hood.
Rozaria made her way around a thick tree and pulled back her hood just enough to show her face to the men. They stood when they saw her, several grabbing their weapons. Rozaria smiled.
“Hunters?” she asked in Zorfinan. This made them glance around at one another. Finally, one stepped forward.
“Jes. It is not safe here, miss. The beast could return down the mountain.”
“The beast went into the mountains? Why have you stayed down here?” She cocked her head, as if asking out of innocent inquisitiveness.
The men exchanged guilty glances. “We stay in case the beast comes back.”
“Ah. Good. But what a shame that the other hunters have a better chance at tonight’s glory. At least you are safe.”
Now the men dropped their eyes completely. Hiding her glee at their shame, Rozaria forced a fearful look. “Is it as awful as they say? This creature?”
The leader’s head snapped up. He wiped rain from his face. “It is more terrible than the tales.”
“Where do you think it came from?” she asked.
The men began to murmur, “Curse of the Lashed,” gesticulating with their ridiculous signs to ward off evils.
“I see.” Rozaria’s heart began to race, a slice of satisfaction spreading through her. “I will leave you to hunt your cursed foe. I was traveling through when I heard there were brave hunters in this area. I have brought oat cakes. I’m sorry I do not have more to offer.” She pulled a sack of small cakes from her pocket. The man took them, nodding his appreciation. They reached in, snatching the bag from one another and shoving the pastries into their mouths.