Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
FOX
A nother scream echoed through the trees.
Sofia was moving before Fox had even stood, not bothering to grab her bag. He scrambled up, his long strides catching up to her easily. He pulled her back.
“Take your bag and get your bow and arrows ready,” he said, roughly shoving her supplies in her hands. She nodded, half listening, but her eyes were set on the horizon toward the cenote where the screams were coming from.
“Sofia,” he said, voice firmer, “look at me. We don’t know what’s happening; we need to be careful.”
This time, she made eye contact with him and nodded. Her eyes were wide with fear, but the furrow of her brows and the pinch of her lips spoke of determination. A second later, a cold metal was pressed into his hand and he looked down to see her handing him a large dagger.
“This will do more good than that rusty cooking blade,” she said.
He took it without question and then they set off at a run. He bounded over roots, doing his best to not roll his ankles on the soft soil in between. Yet, he moved smoother than he had even a few days before. It was nothing compared to Sofia, who despite her shorter legs sprang through the trees like a deer, drawing ahead of him in small increments as they moved.
The sounds didn’t seem to grow any louder as they approached, the echoes bouncing through the trees and disorienting him as they ran. If Sofia wasn’t moving so assuredly, he might doubt they were going in the right direction. The time also gave his mind the space to process the fact that he was running through the rainforest toward what sounded like a battle. Not only that, but he was running to save a group of Dragonborn and shapeshifters. Who had he become?
They hadn’t gone far, when the screams started to wane before going silent. He expected Sofia to run faster, but something in the silence had her stumbling to a stop. A sound ripped from her throat that made Fox’s blood run cold and he lurched forward as she fell to her knees.
He came to rest in the dirt beside her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her tightly against him. Her skin was cold against his own. He didn’t know where the instinct had come from. The only person who’d ever held him was his mother and he’d made sure she’d stopped that cycles ago.
“Breathe,” he said. He felt the wheeze deep in her chest—lungs pushed too far, too fast.
Before he could say more, the earth underneath them shuddered and a sharp wind blew through the trees, sending leaves and branches tumbling. He ducked, covering Sofia with his body as the sounds of flapping wings thundered above. He looked up in time to see the glint of white scales through the trees, set against the cerulean sky. If he hadn’t seen a dragon a few nights before, he might have thought it a strange cloud.
“How?” Her voice cracked.
Sofia stared up at the same small patch of sky, now blue and clear.
“We should keep moving,” he said, helping her stand. “They might need help.” Even he knew the words were likely meaningless.
She trembled beneath his hand. He was tempted to take back his words, pull her back into him and hold her until the tremors stopped and her skin was warm again. But she pulled away, her shoulders going stiff. Her face went from wracked with anguish to blank in the blink of an eye, lips set in a grim line.
“Come on,” she said, moving before he could register the change that had come over her.
He followed, their progress slower now that the silence ahead of them seemed to swallow up any sense of urgency. They made it to the camp fifteen minutes later, the time feeling like both an instant and an indescribable length of time.
It was clear what they would find before they came to the edge of the cenote, black smoke rising like ribbons from below and a silence louder than Fox felt possible. Despite the knowing that settled between them, Sofia ran into the indentation of the earth, calling out as she weaved through the rubble. He followed behind her, his own steps careful as he scanned the ground. There were small fires burning across the entire cenote, and he gagged when he saw the limb peeking out from one.
Once he’d seen the first hand, it was easy to see the others. Some small and some larger, the fire eating away the families that had only just lived here.
He heard Sofia’s yells echoing through the halls and caves farther in the cenote. Silence the only answer.
“No one’s here,” Sofia said, coming toward him eyes wild. “Maybe they ran.”
His jaw tightened and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t think they escaped.” He let his eyes settle on the fire closest to them, a dark arm visible between the flames, a delicate iron chain along its wrist.
“Tía Muela,” Sofia said. He waited for her to collapse again, ready to catch her if her knees went weak.
“Who did this?” Her question was cold fury.
Fox resisted the urge to step away. “You saw the dragon, same as me.”
She shook her head. “Dragons don’t start fires. They don’t burn bodies.”
“An enemy tribe? The wolfshifters?”
Her eyes met his, and he realized that at some point over the past few days, she had stopped looking at him with utter hatred. The look had now returned, burning raw and bright in her eyes.
“It’s the king’s men who kill innocents and burn bodies.”
“We saw the dragon! Dereyans don’t even believe in dragons.” She wasn’t wrong. The king’s men had made a name for themselves raiding and burning. But it didn’t make sense. “Why now? After how many decades of them living out here, the army has never bothered them, so why now?”
Sofia looked at him, distrust in her eyes. “You…”
This time he did step back, raising his hands in supplication. “I couldn’t have—I didn’t?—”
Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath before she answered. “I know.”
She moved, slowly making her way toward the small river that ran through the cenote. “We should put out the fires. Give the others as much to bury as they can.”
They worked in silence, using some broken dishes among the rubble to bring the water from the lake and put the fires out. It took longer than he expected and with every splash of water, the flames shrank away, leaving the evidence of what they had been burning behind. He threw up once, too sick to his stomach to bother with shame.
Sofia made no comment. After that, he tied a scrap of fabric over his face to help with the smell; it didn’t do much. When they were finally done, the cenote was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and burned flesh.
They’d found bronze-tipped arrows amongst the bodies and a steel blade, stamped with the king’s seal. Fox didn’t want to admit out loud what the weapons meant, but they both knew. The king’s guard had been here. His fellow soldiers had done this. How any of that was related to the dragon they’d seen, he didn’t know. Perhaps it had come to defend the shapeshifters, but if so, it had failed. So much for all-powerful gods.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the army had been looking for him.
“We can’t bury them all ourselves,” he said, looking over the ruins of the camp, feeling the sickness in his stomach churning once more. “Those you left at the ruins,” he said, the realization hitting him, “they need to know. We should tell them.”
Sofia looked up from where she was slumped, a hollowness to her gaze. “I don’t think we should be around when they get back.”
“What do you mean? We need to…” His words faded off as he came to the same conclusion she likely already had.
They hadn’t trusted him; Sofia barely trusted him. What was to stop them from blaming him for what had happened? For blaming them both?
“We need to leave before they return.”
“It’s just me that needs to leave,” he said, trying to not sound as bitter as he felt.
She shook her head. “I’m the one that brought you here and vouched for you. I don’t know why your people attacked now, but even I admit it looks like we’re to blame.” Her voice cracked.
This is my fault. I’m to blame. He didn’t know how, but he knew.
Had they been looking for him? He doubted his father would bother to rally a search party, but the chief commander perhaps?
“I don’t know when the others plan to return.” She was looking around, eyes analyzing. “We should gather supplies and leave as soon as possible.”
Fox didn’t have the energy to argue, all too happy to get away from the sharp smell of death. But it felt wrong to rummage through the remnants of the dead for supplies to steal. Sofia’s face was set in a stony mask of determination, so he simply followed her lead.
“I’ll get some dried food from the kitchens and a second canteen for myself.” He wanted a chance to get away from the bodies. The soldiers who’d attacked had been kind enough to drag all the dead out of the back rooms. There were blood stains across the tiles he had to ignore, but it was better than out in the main cavern where Sofia was digging through rubble and bodies in equal order.
He grabbed a canteen and all the dry food he could carry. They theoretically only had a day or two back to civilization, but after constant near starvation, he wasn’t taking a chance again. He collected a small pile of smoked rabbit, mangoes, avocados, and even some stale tortillas, scooping them into an empty sack that smelled of corn and had the king’s stamp across the coarse weave.
When he had collected what he could, he found Sofia, sitting cross-legged in the rubble. He stepped around her, uncertain before he saw what she was staring at—a long and battered feather, pale blue, nearly white and gleaming beneath mud and ash. It was a feather from the dragon they’d seen, caught among the detritus of the battleground.
“The dragon was here.” Her voice was hoarse, with emotions or smoke he didn’t know. “They worshipped the old gods. They paid sacrifice to them. I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps it came to defend them from the king’s men.” Fox felt the lump in his throat on the last words.
“No,” she said, “it didn’t.”
He waited and she motioned to the body of an older man he didn’t quite recognize. The clothes were burned away, but the body was mostly intact. Mostly.
“The claw marks are too big for anything else. No human or shapeshifter did that.”
Fox didn’t know what to say. He heard the heartbreak in her voice and knew there were no words that would make it better. She’d spent cycles worshipping the dragons and within a few days, one had almost killed her and another had attacked an innocent village.
They were dangerous creatures, not gods to be prayed to. But she wasn’t ready to hear that.
And it did nothing to explain how an army of men who believed the dragons were extinct had received aid from one.
Another thought kept crossing his mind, just a little louder and more desperate. Had he not run away from the shapeshifters two days ago, he might have been here. He might be headed back to Suvi with the others at this very moment. Or perhaps he’d have ended up dead under the claws of a dragon.
Instead of saying anything, he filled their canteens and separated the food between the two leather packs she’d found. They were dirty, but in one piece. She’d already packed them with weapons.
Before he could tie both bags up, Sofia grabbed hers and carefully tucked the tattered feather into it. It didn’t quite fit, but she bent it gently until the entire thing was hidden within. The sun hadn’t even reached its zenith when they headed out, leaving behind the wreckage that had been their home for only two days. Fox couldn’t explain the sadness he felt in walking away. Another question to examine later .