“I STILL think we should be spending this time going over last-minute preparations,” Charles complained.
“Shush your worrying. We’ve already gone through things ten times,” Clark said. “The Warlord is riding. He hasn’t competed in years. This might be our last time seeing him.”
Shea ignored the exchange, watching the contenders on the field. Evidently, Fallon’s inclusion in the race was a bigger deal than she had previously thought. Since news of his entry, the audience for the event had swelled to four times the size of other events.
Even the Airabel villagers had turned out, lining the branches and rope bridges above the audience. Shea had offered to take Clark and Charles up there where the view was undoubtedly better but had been refused. Emphatically. Both men had looked at her like she was crazy, so she’d dropped it. She kind of regretted that now, with the press of Trateri on all sides.
Fallon, like the rest of the competitors, was bare chested, his hair knotted back from his face, with a streak of black darkening his eyes and temples. He looked over at Shea and smiled, the expression causing some of the women around her to titter in a way she hadn’t heard since she lived in Birdon Leaf. She knew that sound. It was the sound of women admiring a good-looking man that they would like to have. A man that was Shea’s.
This feeling of possessiveness was new to her. She didn’t know if she liked it or the accompanying jealousy.
“What are they doing?” Shea asked as two riders lined up on either side of the field.
The riders began a slow trot toward one another. In the next moment, the horses opened up to a full-on gallop, thundering headlong towards each other. The riders leaned over, one managing to get his hand around the other’s foot and yanked, unseating his opponent. The man crashed to the ground and rolled, arms up to protect his head.
A thunderous roar of approval came from the crowd as the victor rode past, his arms held high above his head as he whooped.
Shea’s mouth was open as she stared wide-eyed as the next pair squared off. “Please tell me I didn’t just see that.”
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about. This is pretty tame so far. Once they get past the qualifying rounds, it gets a lot more violent,” Charles said, his face bored.
She turned to look at the other two with wide eyes. “How do you not consider this violent? If he’d fallen under the horse, he would have been trampled.”
Clark nodded. “That is a danger. There are rules to keep the competitors from targeting each other like that, but it happens by accident every once and a while.”
“And you still do this?” Shea couldn’t help the way her voice rose at the end.
The two looked at each other, their expressions saying they didn’t understand why she was so aghast. They looked back at her and nodded.
“Why?” she asked with wide eyes. “That is the action of a crazy person.”
She looked back at Fallon. What kind of madman would do this? What kind of madman would do this after making a bet? Why had she agreed to the bet?
Her palms started sweating and her stomach roiled. If he died, it would be because of that stupid bet. She leaned her head against the wooden fence the Trateri had erected to keep the audience from swarming the field.
“Shea, what’s wrong?” Clark asked.
“She just realized exactly what Fallon volunteered himself for.” Eamon’s voice came from overhead.
“There’s nothing to be worried about, Shea,” Clark assured her. “He’s competed in this event many times and always walked away with only minor injuries.”
That did not make her feel more comfortable.
“Give it up, boy. You’re not going to talk sense into her. This is something you only understand with time and when you have a stake in the outcome,” Eamon told him. He clapped Shea on the back. “Steady on, lass. You wouldn’t want any of these layabouts seeing you flinch, would you?”
Shea raised her head. No one was looking at her now, but if she kept it up long enough, she would soon draw attention. Daere would have her head if gossip spread that the Warlord’s Telroi cowered during these tournaments.
As soon as she looked, she wished she could duck and hide again. Fallon was up. He waited until she looked his way before raising a fist in salute. She dawned a cool expression and gave him a regal nod.
His opponent said something that had Fallon’s face darkening. They split apart and took their spots on either side of the field. Fallon picked the side that faced Shea.
He sat still as the call was given. His opponent exploded into movement, his horse racing furiously down the field as Fallon waited, arms crossed over his chest and a stony expression on his face.
“What’s he doing?” Clark asked. “He needs to build up momentum or his opponent will barrel right into him.”
A pair of forearms landed on the fence next to Shea. Trenton watched the action with an intent expression. “Watch carefully.”
Shea did.
Fallon waited until his opponent reached a third of the way down the field. He dropped his arms. Between one second and the next his mount lunged into a full-fledged gallop, its hooves churning up the dirt as it strained for every ounce of speed. In an almost lazy movement, Fallon leaned over, hooked his opponent’s foot, and yanked—sending the other man crashing to the ground.
The crowd roared, their sound drowning out the small prayer that Shea offered up.
Fallon’s reined his horse to a stop next to his opponent who had gain his feet and stood looking around with disbelief. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead. Fallon leaned over, touching the wound with two fingers as he said something to his opponent. He didn’t wait for a response as he touched his heels to the horse’s sides and sent it trotting toward Shea and her companions. Clark bounced up and down, nearly giddy with delight.
Fallon’s eyes were somber, though they held a small piece of wickedness as he rode up to Shea. She tilted her head to look up at him. The crowd had fallen silent, just the two of them staring at each other.
Fallon leaned forward and smeared his hand down her cheek and neck. His teeth flashed white and he let out a war holler as he gave his horse a signal that had it rearing onto its hind legs before it hit the ground running.
The crowd roared, the sound deafening under the forest’s canopy. It took a moment before Shea realized they were chanting “Hawkvale” over and over again, the words almost indistinguishable in the din.
She touched her cheek. Her fingers came away with red.
“Is that blood?”
Eamon understood her despite the noise. He nodded.
“It’s considered an honor to be anointed with the blood of his enemy.”
“This is just a competition, right?”
Eamon shrugged. “To a Trateri, every opponent is an enemy.”
Shea gaped up at him. She had blood on her. There was actual blood on her skin that her Warlord had put there, and Eamon was talking to her about enemies and honor.
“You people are a little crazy,” she said. “I mean, gone ‘round the bend-not coming back-crazy.”
He shrugged. Then he nodded. “You’re the one who picked us.”
She scoffed. “We remember things very differently. I seem to remember a certain someone grabbing me by the arm and telling me I was late.”
Eamon’s smile flashed before he gave a whoop as one of the contestants accomplished a daring feat.
“You could have left at any time. In fact, I seem to remember at one point you did leave.”
Shea shoulders rounded until they almost touched her ears. “Yeah, but someone had to go and get themselves almost eaten by a shadow beetle, didn’t they?”
Buck’s hands landed on Shea’s shoulders. “And I for one am very glad you came back to distract that beetle.”
“When’d you get back?” Eamon asked him.
Shea looked back at him in question. She hadn’t realized his team were one of the few who’d picked up patrols again.
“Last night. There are some freaky, scary things out there right now.” Both men’s faces turned a little grim.
“Did you turn your report in already?”
“Hm.” Buck made a sound of affirmation. “Your annoying assistant is already going over it and making copies to be distributed among the command teams.”
“Good, I’ll want to review it with you tonight.”
“Perhaps after I’ve enjoyed myself a little.” Buck gave Eamon a roguish grin as his eye caught that of a Trateri woman with a heart-shaped face next to them.
Eamon waved his hand, letting Buck go. He wasted no time in pursuing the other woman, whose smile at the sight of him heading her way put the rest of them in no doubt how Buck’s night was going to end.
The contestants on the field had narrowed to half their original size. Several Trateri walked onto the field dragging large items.
“What are they doing?” Shea asked.
“They’re setting up obstacles. The second round is a little different than the first. They still have to unseat their opponent, but now they have to do it while dodging the items in their path.”
Yes, because it just wasn’t dangerous enough before. Crazy barbarians.
Charles pushed away from the fence. “We have to leave to get setup for our event.”
Clark protested. “Just a few more rounds.”
Charles looked hesitant, the pull of watching the Hawkvale compete just as much of a temptation as it was for his friend. His jaw firmed. “We need to make our final arrangements. The Wind Division commander showed his trust in our abilities. We can’t let him down now.”
Charles gave Eamon a nod of acknowledgement. Eamon pressed his lips together as if he was fighting to hide a grin.
Charles pulled Clark away, giving Shea and Eamon a determined look.
“I’ll catch up in a few minutes,” Shea told him as he left.
“If you must,” he told her, leaving before she could say anything in response.
“Grumpy,” Eamon said, looking after Charles and Clark. “He’s probably just stressed about things going well today.”
“It was nice of you to give them that opportunity,” Shea told Eamon.
He shrugged off her words. “It wasn’t me. I did offer their names as an option, but it was the elders who picked. What you all are doing is resonating with a lot of people.”
Shea was glad he hadn’t given them the opportunity just because of their previous relationship.
“You should watch this event until the end,” Eamon said. “You want to see who wins the bet, right?”
Shea’s jaw dropped and she hissed, “How do you know about that?”
Trenton straightened from his position next to them. “Everyone knows about that. It’s the talk of camp.”
Eamon chuckled as Shea’s face turned beet red. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll go easy on you when he wins.”
“You’re so sure he’ll win?” Shea asked with an arched eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Of course. He’s the Warlord.”
“And about ten years older than the rest of the competitors,” Shea said with a challenging expression. She should have known better. It was what had led to the ill-placed bet with Fallon.
“Not everything is about age,” Trenton said, waggling his eyebrows. “Sometimes experience wins the field.”
The crowd roared as Fallon unseated his opponent in a graceful movement at odds in such a big man.
Trenton leaned close. “I think he’s a little more motivated than usual.”
Shea blushed. Her color deepened when Fallon threw her a darkly significant look. Next time she would have to be more careful with her challenges. They always seemed to get her in trouble with this group.
*
Shea moved through the crowds as quickly as the press of bodies would allow. She vibrated with impatience, as she waited for an elderly woman accompanied by a child to move out of her way. She’d stayed later than she should have, watching Fallon compete. He’d won, to the surprise of no one but Shea.
The bet was lost. She owed him a boon. Shea could only imagine what he would request, the tricky warlord. To top it off, she was now late for the event she’d helped plan. The slow-moving crowd didn’t help matters.
A pair of grubby hands tugged at her pant legs. Shea looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes and a gap-toothed smile belonging to a sweet looking girl. One that was wearing a thin, threadbare shirt, and holding a bright yellow flower up to Shea.
“Is that for me, sweetheart?” Shea asked with a smile. It was hard not to be charmed by the little girl.
The urchin child nodded and offered it again.
Shea felt in her pockets, hoping for something to give the child, who looked no more than four or five. Shea hadn’t seen overt signs of poverty among the Trateri. The clans, for all the feuding and infighting they brought, looked after their own. If a child was orphaned, they were absorbed into the clan and provided for. Same when someone lost a partner. She knew of no instances where someone had been turned out, not to say that there weren’t any. This child looked like she hadn’t bathed in weeks, and her clothes looked like they were one strong wind from disintegrating.
“I have nothing to give you,” Shea admitted.
The girl’s face drooped in disappointment, the expression tugging at Shea’s heart. She looked at Trenton for help. Her guard avoided her eyes and scratched his neck. Shea frowned at him. Useless man. Always around when he wasn’t needed, and absolutely worthless when he was.
She looked back at the little girl and held up her wrist. “Do you like my bracelet?”
The girl looked at it and nodded.
“How ‘bout we trade then? My bracelet for the flower.”
The girl gave Shea a gap-toothed grin full of innocence and nodded.
“Shea, that bracelet is valuable,” Trenton said, his expression uneasy.
“All the more reason she should have it. Maybe it’ll bring her good fortune.” Shea pulled the bracelet off and handed it to the little girl. She thanked her when the little girl handed her the flower.
The little girl took the bracelet and petted it. She oohed and awed over it and ran her fingers along the graceful lines, before looking back up at Shea.
“Goodbye, thank you for my flower,” Shea said. She began walking away even as the little girl’s eyes tugged at her heart. She didn’t make it far before a small hand slid into hers and Shea looked down to find the little girl hurrying to keep pace with her little legs.
“No, no, sweetheart. You need to stay here where your mother and father can find you.”
The little girl looked up at Shea and cocked her head, not seeming to understand. Shea looked at Trenton again for help. He looked back at her and shrugged. No help there.
“Mist is alone in this world.” Gala shuffled toward Shea and Trenton, her arms clasped behind her back. “From what I understand, she has been mute since her parents died. There is no one for her to wait for.”
“Elder Gala.” Shea inclined her head to the other woman.
The girl child, Mist, let go of Shea’s hand and ran to Gala. She danced around in front of her while holding up the bracelet for the other woman to see.
Gala bent down and made the appropriate sounds of appreciation. “That’s a fine bracelet you have there.” Gala looked up at Shea. “One would even say the giver was very generous.”
Shea looked away and gave a shrug.
Gala stood up and observed Shea with canny eyes. The kind that saw right through a person down to their very core. Shea had never been very fond of people who could do that. There were too many things she wanted to keep to herself, keep hidden.
“I’ve got to get going. My event starts soon,” Shea said, giving an excuse for her hurry that also happened to be true.
“Yes, you and the other two responsible for the beast board are in charge of the hunt, if I recall.”
“That is right.” Shea didn’t ask how Gala knew. The other woman struck Shea as the sort to know everything about everyone around her.
“That is an unusual honor to be given to a group so young and untested.”
So Shea had gathered. It made her wonder just why her little team had been chosen.
“I will walk with you as far as your staging area,” Gala said. Before Shea could protest, she looked down at Mist. “Shall we?”
The little girl nodded enthusiastically before looking at Shea with bright, excited eyes. Shea didn’t have it in her to deny that face.
She mustered an uneasy smile for the two, then turned and set off, keeping her pace slow so her companions could keep up. Mist rambled in front of them as Gala walked with a measured pace beside Shea.
“You have not attended the last two sharies,” Gala observed.
A sharie was a meeting attended by many of the elders in the clans. Usually each clan held their own sharie every month. She’d made it a point to be busy doing something else the last few times one had been called.
“Yes, I’ve been very busy of late with the Hawkvale’s return and planning for this event.”
Gala gave her a sideways look that said she knew exactly how much of an excuse that was. “When I was your age, I also found it difficult to attend the sharie as well. So many people looking to me for answers when I had none.”
Shea felt a tinge of surprise. “I thought most who attended were elders.”
That was what she had seen. She was the youngest by several decades in those gatherings.
Gala made a sound of agreement. “I was like you, the Telroi to a powerful man. Do you know the purpose of a sharie?”
Shea thought a moment. “To share your grievances in a neutral setting.”
“That is one purpose. The other is to have our grievances heard by our leaders.”
“How is that? I’ve never seen the Hawkvale attend one.”
Gala gave a graceful nod. “In the past, he would send one of his top advisors to hear our complaints.”
“Daere?”
A smile tugged at Gala’s lips as she confirmed Shea’s guess. “Indeed. We may not speak to him directly, but he ensures that our voices are heard and acknowledged in one way or the other.”
They walked several more feet in silence.
“And my presence helps with that?” Shea didn’t see how. Fallon hadn’t even been in the camp for the few sessions she attended. There was no possibility that she would have conveyed their messages to him. “How?”
“Every person in our clans contributes to its overall well-being and the greater Trateri people as a whole. We each have our role to play. The warriors, the craftsmen, the healers and hunters. Without just one of these roles, our society would collapse.”
Shea could see that. Highlanders had similar roles, though they assigned worth to those roles. Merchants, and those that grew and harvested food, were often at the bottom of that tier. She still didn’t see what that had to do with the sharie.
“I have found throughout my many years that a person needs to feel valued for their contributions. To do otherwise breeds resentment. That has no place in a clan. Those little feelings can grow into big ones that threaten a clan’s safety and well-being.”
“I understand. My people have a similar view.”
“Would that be the pathfinders?”
Shea nodded. “The Highlanders have a similar structure to their society, but they often look down on those they see as performing less meaningful roles. There is often a schism in such instances. However, one village’s ways are different than another’s.”
They were as varied in their beliefs and society as the Lowlanders. Perhaps more so because of the inherent isolation of the Highlands.
“I would find it interesting to visit with some of these Highland villages.”
Shea didn’t know about that. While she called the Highlands home, its people were hard and unwelcoming to strangers of any type.
“They see me as an extension of the Hawkvale,” Shea said, trying to understand the meaning behind Gala’s words.
“Very good. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
They’d arrived to where Shea’s friends had set up their event. Clark waved at her frantically from the outside of a large crowd.
“You should join your friends. The young one looks like he might burst out of his skin any moment,” Gala said.
Shea looked at them and then back at Gala. She wanted to continue this conversation.
“We will talk later.” Shea made the phrase an order rather than a question.
Gala inclined her head.
Shea turned to go and stopped when there was a tug on her pants. She looked down to find Mist standing behind her looking up at her with a worried expression.
“No sweetie, you can’t come with me.”
“Mist, stay here with Grandma Gala for now.” Gala looked down at her with a kind expression.
Mist frowned unhappily but let go of Shea’s pants. Her shoulders drooped as she wandered back to Gala.
Shea gave her a small wave before turning and heading for Clark.
“Are you ready for this?” Clark asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
He laughed. “Not at this point.”
“Then I guess I’m ready.”
Charles stepped up and waved for attention. “Excuse me. Excuse me, can I have your attention?”
The gathered Trateri continued to speak among themselves. Only a few noticed Charles’s attempt at getting their attention and even those went back to their conversations when it was apparent the rest wouldn’t quiet.
“Oi, the game master has spoken. Shut your gobs and pay attention.” Trenton’s shout made Shea jump.
Charles cleared his throat and nodded an acknowledgement of Trenton’s help. Trenton stood back and folded his arms across his chest to fix the rest of the crowd with a glare. Faced with the wrath of one of Fallon’s Anateri, the group quieted and turned their attention to Charles.
“Yes, well. Let me explain the rules. See the three white squares drawn on the ground. You’ll be placed into one of those depending on how many answers to a set of questions you get right.”
A set of hands went up. Their owners spoke before they could be called on. “Who decides the questions?”
“We do.” Charles’s answer was matter of fact.
“Who decides if we’re correct?”
Shea lifted an eyebrow. Who did they think decided that?
Charles’s answer was a little more tactful. “We do.” He waited a beat to see if there were any more stupid questions. “As I said, you’ll be placed into one of the three squares depending on your answers. There will be two ‘beasts’ that you’ll chase once we release you from your square. One is a decoy and the other is your quarry.” Charles gestured at Clark and Shea. They each lifted a hand to show they would be playing the beast. “Your objective is to follow the path they lay out and catch the beast. The first one to catch the correct beast wins.”
“How do we know which is the real one?”
“They will be laying tracks down to indicate what beast they are. The other will lay down different beast signs. It will be your job to determine which is which.”
There was a commotion from behind that distracted Charles from his explanation. Shea shifted so she could see better. Fallon, still clad as he was during his tournament event, stepped to the front of the group and folded his arms across his chest. He must have come directly from winning his last match.
Clark and Charles looked at Shea with amazed and questioning expressions. She shook her head.
She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes on him. What was he doing here?
He cocked an eyebrow at her and turned his attention to Charles. His patient expression said he was waiting for Charles to continue with his explanation of events.
Charles looked at Shea one last time, his face guarded and just a bit frustrated. He hesitated before going on to explain the rest of the rules. Shea and Clark would stick to the outer perimeter of the encampment so they didn’t lose people in the forest beyond. They’d debated for a long time about the boundaries, and it was decided it was too dangerous and unpredictable to take the group past the final sentry line. They also didn’t want a bunch of competitive Trateri running through the inner camp among crowds trying to capture Shea and Clark. There was still plenty of space to hide and track on the outer perimeter.
She snuck a look back at Fallon. His eyes were fastened on her. When he caught her peeking, he gave her a wicked smile. She sighed. Somehow, she didn’t think Fallon cared who was the decoy and who was the beast. There was only one person he planned to hunt.
The question portion of the exercise went quickly. Only those who were frequent attendees of Charles’s beast class landed in the first square. They would hold a distinct advantage over the rest as they would be the first to be released to track Shea and Clark. A handful were placed in the second square with the majority ending up in the last square. There were some grumbles as they ordered themselves into the proper square.
Charles gave Shea and Clark a nod. Trenton straightened and followed them into the forest beyond.
The three made their way to the stash of tools they’d placed in the knot of a tree earlier in the morning. The tools should help them mirror the tracks of a red back, a revenant and a hularna.
Clark would be the red back for this exercise and Shea would be the decoy.
“Good luck,” Shea told Clark.
“You too. Somehow I think you’re going to need it more than me.”
Her grimace said she agreed.
They each pressed the stamp in the ground and then set off in opposite directions. The sign they left would be the trackers’ first test.
“Why did you make Clark the red back?” Trenton asked as Shea left some scratches waist high on a tree.
“Who do you think they’ll assume is the real target?” Shea asked.
“You.”
“Exactly. Clark is perfect. If they try to read our foot prints, those who aren’t sure will pursue me. Those who do know how to read signs will pursue Clark.” The object of this game was to test the competitors’ knowledge and tracking skills, in addition to their endurance. Most Trateri knew how to track, it was something they were taught as children since much of their diet consisted of what they hunted. There was no way Shea and Clark would be able to completely erase their presence. This was their way of evening the odds.
Shea set off at a run, heading to the next place where she’d leave another sign. Trenton kept up with her easily. Together the two of them moved through the forest, stopping only when they needed to set the next sign. Shea alternated between the revenant’s tracks and the hularna’s. She broke off stems and bent branches, sometimes laying a false trail before backtracking.
An hour had passed before she heard the first sounds of pursuit. There was a loud curse as one of the contestants stepped into a briar patch she’d led them through. She grinned. That would teach them to pay attention to their surroundings.
She moved off at an angle from them, not wanting to be caught just yet. The game was still early and Clark hadn’t blown the horn to say he’d been caught.
“You are diabolical,” Trenton remarked after Shea left a false trail pointing into a nest of stinging thistles. The flower’s petals would leave welts and rashes on any unsuspecting victim that chose to brush against them.
Shea shared a smile with him as she backed away from the nest, careful not to brush up against any of the yellowish, green petals.
“I learned from the best.”
“This may end up backfiring on you,” Trenton said with a skeptical glance at the stinging flowers. “He will not be happy when he catches up to you if he has welts and a rash all over. He might even find a nest to throw you into.”
She shot Trenton a grin. “If he’s arrogant enough to get caught in this, he deserves what he gets.”
She’d decided she liked this game. Liked outwitting Fallon and making him chase false trails. The only way it would be better is if she could ditch Trenton and do this alone. He made their trail a little too easy to spot.
She stared at him in thought.
“Oh no, don’t even think it. You’re not ditching me.”
She sighed. Such a stickler for the rules.
She wiped her hands on her pants and gestured for him to continue. He started to turn and Shea bent to grab her print-making tool. A whistle sounded in the air. Shea threw herself to the side. An arrow sailed over her head and thunked into the trunk of a tree barely a handbreath from Shea.
Trenton spun, drawing his sword at the same time. Another arrow whistled through the air. Trenton deflected it with a swift movement. “Get up. We need to run.”
Shea leapt to her feet, darting past Trenton and behind the cover provided by upraised roots that were as tall as she was. They raced through the trees, giving little thought to where they were going. Shea ran, knowing any moment an arrow could land in her back.
She weaved through the trees, zigzagging to and fro. Trenton crashed through the underbrush beside her.
The sound of pursuit followed them. Shea tripped, falling down a bank and rolling into a stream bed. She pushed herself half upright in the water.
Where was Trenton? He’d been right beside her. She was alone now. They must have gotten separated.
She took her time getting up, keeping her movements soft and silent. There was a rustle in the bushes behind her. Shea slid through the water, keeping low, until she could press herself against the bank. She waited with bated breath as footsteps came closer and closer.
They paused right above her head. She didn’t dare move for fear that it would attract attention. After a long moment, the footsteps retreated.
Shea released the breath she was holding and leaned forward. Her game of hunting had suddenly become all too real.
She’d have to apologize to Trenton and Fallon the next time she saw them. After all the grief she’d given them regarding their insistence of having a guard on her at all times, she finally saw what they had been saying.
She pushed herself away from the bank, pausing to glance over it. Nothing moved in the forest around her. She’d have to chance it. She couldn’t stay here. Eventually her hunter would backtrack and find her. Her only chance was making her way back to the encampment and finding help.
She didn’t even have a weapon to defend herself with. She’d been stupid and left it behind, thinking that it was unnecessary for the game. Trenton was probably going to have a lot to say about that when they met back up.
For now, she needed to be quick and quiet. She could do this. It was no different than evading a beast. Granted, this beast walked on two legs and was highly intelligent, but he didn’t know the forest like she did, and he lacked the superior senses of a true beast.
Yes, she could do this. She refused to be ended by a coward with an arrow, shot in the back like prey.
She ran down the stream bed, hiding her foot prints in the water in case her hunter did come back. After a fair distance, she scrambled up the bank and across the forest floor.
She stopped on an exposed boulder and listened. The human senses were powerful if one knew how to use them. Shea had been taught to listen and feel with more than just the tangible.
Her senses told her something was off in the forest. The animals had gone silent and the air had a menacing, oppressive feeling to it. It was still and quiet, not even the branches in the trees rustling with wind as the world waited, watchful. Shea’s back itched as if someone was watching her.
It could be her attacker, or it could be someone from the game. That had been the purpose, after all—hunt the beast until they caught it. She hadn’t heard any sign of pursuit in the last few minutes, but Fallon, in particular, could be tricky. Either way, it was probably best to avoid whoever was after her. She couldn’t be sure if they were friend or foe.
She slipped off the boulder and moved silently over the ground, her senses tuned to the world around her.
There was no movement, but the forest felt ominous—like there was something waiting in its depths, something that meant Shea ill.
She rolled into some underbrush and slithered across the ground on her stomach.
A rustle in the branches alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Something was behind her. If it was the shooter, she needed to get out of his line of sight. Regroup and see if she could slip away unseen.
She waited, every sense tuned to spot her hunter. There. The branches of a small tree just barely moved. Could be the wind but the branches around it weren’t moving.
Shea moved away, careful to keep her movements silent and not disturb the bushes around her. She needed to find a way to deal with this. She slithered into a natural indent in the land and under an upraised tree root.
Her hand landed next to a vine with purple tracery on it. Shea froze, eyeing the vine with a hint of fear. As she watched, it slithered across the ground, much as she had, weaving back and forth as it sought its prey.
She held her breath as another vine slithered next to her, up and over one of her hands. A sleeper vine nest. Of all the luck. Her assailant wouldn’t need to do anything to her. She was going to get herself killed all on her own.
She carefully turned onto her back. Above her a deep purple flower opened and closed. There were other flowers intertwined with it, each a varying shade of purple. Some were tightly closed, the bud bulging in odd places on the side. She had a guess as to what was causing that, and it was enough to make her break out into a cold sweat.
Voices reached her. “I think she came this way.”
“Are you sure? It could be another false trail. She’s been laying them all afternoon.”
“She didn’t have time to lay one this time. She would have been fleeing for her life.”
“If you say so.”
The vines perked up at the voices. They snaked across the ground, barely causing a rustle against the dead leaves, their movements as sinuous as they were graceful.
Shea held her breath as one moved across her stomach. They must be attracted to sound and movement. Otherwise she’d be dead already.
All she could do was wait as her hunters came closer. They could be part of the game, hunting her as the beast. Something told her to wait. Something in the way they spoke made her think they were the ones who had shot at her.
She waited.
Two men stepped around a tree and exclaimed when they saw her on the ground. The smaller of the two raised a bow and arrow and started to point it at her. Guess that answered that question.
All the while the vines crept closer. From above another vine dropped down.
Shea waited.
The man drew the arrow. The vines attacked. Shea moved, exploding from the ground and sprinting away from the men.
There were twin screams behind her as she fled. She didn’t hesitate. There was nothing to be done anyway.
She ran until she couldn’t run anymore. By sheer instinct, she had managed to run toward camp instead of away. The forest around her began waking up again and the air lightened as if a cloud had passed.
Finally, she slowed and then stopped. She needed to catch her breath and figure out where she was. A twig cracked behind her.
Shea froze and then sprang away.
Her hesitation cost her. Arms wrapped around her before she could even take a step.