Adda stood for three long heartbeats and then took to the undergrowth after Scet. A few steps along, she scented the first hint of smoke, too bitter to be a simple campfire. She hesitated. Her nose told her that there was death involved, too.
Nex perked up, she could feel his interest through her own emotions. That worried her farther, if evil was interested whatever lay ahead it could not be good.
You are mistaken. There is no such thing as evil, or good, for that matter. Those values are arbitrary, set by the need for order and labels. Death is as much a part of this world as life, it is not evil, nor am I evil simply because my goals lay opposed to yours.
Since her goals included staying alive and not being possessed, she found little comfort in Nex's statement. She did press forward until she came into a clear space that opened into an unnatural clearing, at least the lack of underbrush was unnatural. Tall shrubs and ferns had been chopped low or even dug right out of the ground. Most were piled along the edges of the make-shift camp, but some, the woodier versions, had been drug to the center. The remains of a fire smoked, brambles still jabbing forth as if trying to escape their fate. Unfortunately for the camp's occupants, the fire was not the only thing smoking. The remnants of what must have been sturdy tents glowed red, flames still licking up the wooden posts of some. Five tents in all, holding Great Six knew how many tenants.
Scet was crouching near a slash where the ground had been torn up. Adda didn't recognize it for what it was until she neared, carefully stepping around the hot coals and set of broken arrows next to something that looked suspiciously like a body. She was working at not processing all the scents available to her, but a lurch of her courage told her that burned flesh was indeed present.
She looked beyond Scet where the slash, two slashes actually, disappeared into the saplings and shrubs.
“It's a road.” Or a rutted trail, something used more than once given the depth of the wheel ruts. But not too often, for the vegetation was eagerly encroaching on all sides. She couldn't imagine it had been easy to haul the tents or poles to this spot, it was so isolated she hadn't even seen it from the other end of the pond. She hadn't seen the copious smoke, either. If the wind hadn't shifted, dragging some of the odor toward them, they might have never found it at all.
“An old safe haven for the human traders that come through the pass at times,” Scet rubbed a clump of mud through his fingers.
Adda looked around. “It doesn't seem very safe.”
Scet grunted, his hand still out rubbing the dirt thoughtfully, his brows furrowed together. “They hadn't likely planned for a Dragon, the Lords rarely leave the boundaries of their Aeries.”
“You think Strale did this?”
“Not me,” Strale appeared from behind one of the tents, making her flinch. She hadn't put much thought into her words, but some Lords would take offense to such an accusation...especially a Lord capable of such destruction. Strale studied the clearing, all signs of charm and play gone.
“But a Dragon did do this?” Adda looked around with new intent. What little grass had managed to strive between plants was blackened and curled over upon itself. Even on the saplings, the lower branches showed signs of damage. It would be consistent with the blast of a Dragon's fire; if there was another way to set an entire clearing ablaze, she was unaware of it.
“Positive, look,” Scet stood and made his way to the pile she had been pretending was not a body.
Firming her resolution, she followed. Strale came as well, his lip rising with distaste. The pile was indeed a corpse, the legs curled in toward the being's torso. It was difficult, from the damage endured, to even identify if the victim had been a man or woman, or what race, though it seemed unlikely her own people would have been camped out in such a manner. Shifters liked to live in harmony with nature, the plants around the camp had been brutalized even before they were lit on fire.
Whoever the body had been, there was a pattern of gashes along its side, one that suggested the teeth of one of the great beasts had cut through its flesh. The remnants of some loose clothing, in most places nothing but charred ash, but in others, a hint of white caked with patches of dirt and blood.
Scet touched the wound, bringing bloodied fingers to his nose and sniffed.
“You know,” Adda managed, tamping down her urge to panic and dash away into the forest before the Dragon responsible returned, “some women might find that alarming.”
“Scenting the predator?”
“Smelling dead things...people. Don't you think we should leave it be?”
Strale snorted.
Scet looked at her, a bewildered expression on his face. “If we do not investigate, how will we know who is responsible?”
“I would rather avoid anything that might be responsible for this.”
Or any of the atrocities she had witnessed lately. She was tired of death.
I can ease that for you, if you would like.
I have already said I will never give over to you. No. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She did not want input from Nex, not then.
You misunderstand. I would be glad for your surrender...it would make this much easier on both of us, but what I offer is a simple solution. A cleansing of the memories that bring you such distress, a little distance from death, since you find it so distasteful.
No!
“Adda?”
Scet and Strale both looked at her now, Scet's gaze holding a wariness that sent an answering curl of anxiety through her. Had she just answered Nex out loud? It seemed the creature had more effect on her than she had given it credit for.
“I meant that you are right it would be best to know who did this, if only so we can avoid whoever it was,” she looked upward, scanning the skies for any dark shadows. She didn't see any, but that didn't mean he wasn't out there, lurking above the trees. “Maybe we should be quick, though, in case he comes back.”
Scet did not answer, so she couldn't be sure if he fell for her excuse or not. She moved away from the body, determined to do her investigating away from both the corpse and Scet's too sharp gaze.
She started with the tent that remained most intact. The poles that supported the fabric were sturdy beams, about the width of her fist. But they still emanated heat so she was careful not to brush against them. The ruined canvas, what was left of it, fluttered weakly, like some dead thing hanging above her.
There wasn't much within the tent, to her disappointment. A few half-charred remains of bed rolls, empty, thank the Six, and, hidden behind a flap of charred canvas and an overturned cot, was a traveling trunk. Jagged chunks of wood, torn from the trunk's face, and several articles of clothing were tossed toward the back of the tent. Someone had been in a hurry.
She investigated further. It was odd that the wood hadn't been burned, it had been torn apart.
Curiously, she shuffled over to it and lifted the top layer of fabric. Clothing, and beneath it was another layer of the same thing. Odd clothing. Each piece was white, the color so pure and brilliant it nearly hurt her eyes. She imagined this was what the body Scet had found had been wearing, as well, albeit not quite as clean. The design of the pieces looked to be identical, as well. Robes with matching hoods, and all feminine. Women's clothes. She looked around the tent's remains. Not a single set was large enough for a man.
She peered around a tattered stretch of canvas, neither Scet nor Strale were in sight.
She waged a silly war with her moral compunction and then slid one of the robes on. Whoever the owner was probably wouldn't mind...or was dead. Her mind flashed to the memory of the corpse in the clearing. Ugh. It felt wrong, but she was tired of being naked, especially since it didn't seem like she would be traveling alone. It didn't help that she could feel that Nex got a disproportionate amount of amusement from her dress.
She ignored him, not about to ask what was so funny, partly because she was afraid of what a demon might find amusing, and partly because she was, once again, attempting to avoid speaking to him.
She dug down farther in the trunk, parting the white fabric, where it had obviously been disturbed. Who had chosen to dig through clothes at their last fleeting moments?
She could find nothing that seemed interesting, but she was determined not to miss any clue. And she was rewarded when she reached the bottom. It was not, however, what she had hoped.
She lifted up a charred cloth, letting it unravel and wave in the breeze before her. It had been beneath those untouched by fire. This piece was no robe, but it had held something exceedingly hot.
She stood staring at it, swallowing a rising layer of fear.
There, flying as a flag might fly proudly above a city, was a perfect outline of a symbol burned into the white cloth, a symbol just like the one that had contained Nex.