Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Near The Northern Road
Echoes of the Hunters
“It’s time to stop,” Dar said, his voice cutting through the hush that had followed them for hours.
They had walked until twilight settled over the forest, the path narrowing to a stretch of earth along a winding stream. The air was cool, rich with pine and the faint sweetness of wild thyme crushed beneath their boots.
Elara said nothing, though her limbs ached. She was grateful when Dar stopped not far from the water, eager to settle for the night.
He unfastened his cloak and shrugged it off, leaving the heavy wool to fall where it may and began gathering kindling. He got a fire started quickly.
She watched as firelight licked over the planes of his face, strong lines and sculpted angles, fine features for sure.
Then there was the breadth of his shoulders and the lean, capable strength in his arms. He was solid muscle, not a speck of loose flesh to him from what she could see.
He moved with purpose, efficient, practiced, too sure for a man who claimed to wander aimlessly, not caring where he landed next.
Elara tore her gaze away before he could look up and hurried to say, “I’ll see to my needs while you see to the fire.”
He didn’t glance back. “Don’t stray far. Hunters could be haunting these woods.”
She slipped through the trees, the firelight fading behind her until only the sounds of the forest remained: the rush of the stream, the sigh of wind through branches, the occasional call of a nightbird.
When she stopped by the mossy roots of an oak, a faint shimmer stirred at the edge of her vision. She waited, half expecting to see something but as the flickering light faded all she heard was a flutter like the wings of a bird. And once again, she felt a faint brush across her cheek.
Elara did not dare give it thought nor did she dare share her imaginings on seeing such a shimmer numerous times or hearing the flutter of wings when no birds were in sight or felt a brush against her cheek like earlier.
To do so could bring harm. She did not even want to admit to herself that she was beginning to believe that the fae folk had emerged from Driochmor, where they had been banished.
Or could it be they never left the surrounding forest?
Had they simply become invisible to the human eye?
Why or how she didn’t know, but she strongly suspected the fae folk were among them.
She pressed her hand against the large oak and closed her eyes and waited. The unease trickled into her hand and up her arm quickly. The forest was worried. It knew something was amiss.
It hit her then—a vision. Or was the tree sharing what it had seen?
The image raged in her mind, troops of Hunters spreading throughout Leighfeld, reaching every village. None being warned, especially the villagers to the south and east. Hunters poured through Leighfeld—no one able to stop them.
Her heart felt heavy and her hand fell away from the tree, the image disappearing. The night was suddenly darker and quieter. The tree had shared its heartfelt worries with her. Its home was being invaded, and it would get worse if the healer wasn’t found.
It was clear what needed to be done, the healer had to be found, or the tale debunked for this madness to end.
She hurried to get done with what brought her into the woods, then she turned back toward camp, the faint orange glow of the fire guiding her. Dar was crouched by the flames, the scent of a fresh fire and pine threading through the air.
He looked up as she approached. “I told you not to stray far.”
“I didn’t,” she said, lowering herself onto a patch of moss beside him. “The woods were kind enough to share their peaceful quiet and I could not help but linger in it.”
The flickering flames glinted in his gray eyes as he studied her for a moment and looked as though he would speak. Then he turned and untied the sack with the food Nell had given them and spread it open between them, cheese, bread, and dried meats for them to enjoy.
She wondered about him as she scooped up a piece of bread. This man who had appeared from out of nowhere and offered to help her. And she had let him or had she a choice since he had claimed he would follow her. Who truly was he? And she continued to wonder if she should trust him.
“You make a fair fire for a wanderer,” she said after finishing the piece of bread.
He smiled faintly, spearing a piece of meat with his dagger. “Cold nights teach quick lessons.”
“And the dagger?” she asked, glancing toward the blade. “Do cold nights teach a man to wield that as well?”
His gaze lifted to meet hers, one brow arching. “A wanderer learns to defend what little he has.”
“Your kind are known for words, not weapons—or so they say.”
“Words don’t help when facing a blade.”
The fire popped softly, and the sound filled the silence between them. Elara lowered her eyes, letting the warmth of the flames soak into her chilled fingers.
“I’ve heard wanderers can spin a lie so fine, it sounds like truth,” she said, her tone not judgmental only edged with curiosity. “You don’t seem one for stories.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Truth is easier to remember.”
She looked up again, the firelight flickering across his face, softening the sharpness of his handsome features. “And what truth do you remember, Dar?”
A muscle worked in his jaw before he answered. “That trust is a dangerous thing.”
Her lips curved faintly. “For whom?”
“For anyone.”
The corner of her mouth lifted, though her eyes softened with something like understanding. “On that we agree.”
He watched her a moment longer, and the silence grew heavy again, though not uncomfortable.
There was something in the way she held herself with quiet strength and then there was her beauty, unlike most. Maybe it was the way silver strands fell loose from her braid to whisper along her cheeks or the way her cheeks grew rosy from the heat of the fire, or how her slim lips hid until she spoke then seemed to plump with pleasure, ready to be kissed.
He nearly shook his head at the crazy thought. He had to be mad to think of her in any other way than he needed to. Thinking of pleasure with her would do him no good.
He forced his thoughts elsewhere. “You should rest. I’ll take first watch.”
“I’m no child in need of guarding.”
“Nay,” he agreed. “But you seem to walk toward trouble instead of away from it. Someone ought to keep an eye on that.”
Her breath caught slightly, not from offense but from the warmth beneath the words. She looked into the fire again, unwilling to meet his eyes. “And who keeps an eye on you, wanderer?”
He hesitated, then gave a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
Elara had no doubt of that, and the thought brought her a degree of safety. He could protect her if necessary and instinctively she knew he would.
The flames crackled softly. Elara pulled her cloak closer, feeling a strange calm settle over her.
She shouldn’t trust him. She knew better.
He was, after all, a stranger to her. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the sense of safety she felt around him, or the way her heart beat just a bit faster when he took hold of her hand or held her close.
Or maybe it was a knowing that she couldn’t ignore, a knowing that he would do her no harm.
He watched her a little longer, then turned his gaze to the dark trees beyond the camp. “Try to sleep, Elara. We set a swift pace tomorrow.”
She didn’t answer. She stretched out on the ground, keeping her cloak tight around her. The quiet stretched, filled with the sound of wind and the faint, steady rhythm of the stream. And though her eyes drifted closed at last, she felt his presence still, near, silent, and watchful.
Sleep came slowly, and lightly.
Elara drifted in and out of dreams, the murmur of the stream threading through the edges of her rest. Somewhere near, the fire had burned low, its light little more than a flicker behind her closed eyes.
It came then—a dream, or perhaps a vision—so vivid it felt as though she drifted into it rather than fell asleep.
Dar was there, close enough that she felt the whisper of his breath along her cheek, warm and familiar.
His eyes held a depth of longing that made her chest ache as he tilted his head toward hers, unhurried, inevitable.
His lips brushed hers, barely there, a promise more than a kiss, and his arm slid around her, drawing her into the solid comfort of him.
He tasted of warmth and honey, with a faint trace of mint, and when his mouth returned, firmer, sure, she answered instinctively, as if she had always been meant to.
It was lovely. Like a sweet, warming drink she could never quite finish.
His arm slipped lower, settling at her waist, and her body responded without thought as she was pressed flat against his muscled chest. Sensation rippled through her, lighting her from within, and his kiss deepened—wanting, claiming. She wanted it too, wanted him, the dream pulling her under.
Then his mouth sealed over hers, stealing her breath.
The warmth vanished.
A harsh sound, too real, too heavy, dragged her upward, and the dream shattered. She was half-awake when she realized a hand was clamped over her mouth, hard and unyielding, silencing her breath.
Her eyes flew open.
“Don’t move,” Dar breathed, his voice low, his lips close enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
The tone in his voice, quiet steel and absolute control, stilled every instinct to resist. She nodded once, her heart pounding.
He lifted his hand slowly, his gaze going toward the trees beyond their camp. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting silver veins across his face.
“They’re near,” he whispered. “Hunters.”
Elara’s blood ran cold.