Chapter 39 Shade
Shade
My wife was going to throw herself into the water.
She was going to take herself away from me.
I couldn’t let it happen.
My shadows felt her frantic flight through the woods before I saw her, and of course, I followed.
I would follow her to the ends of the realm, if she asked. And even if she didn’t.
She was so panicked; she didn’t even notice my pursuit. She was chasing a small black cat; one I had the strangest urge to look away from.
My shadows slipped around her body easily. Naturally. Like they belonged on her skin.
I shivered at the sensation.
I held her where she was, not allowing her to recklessly throw herself into the churning water.
She thrashed against the restraint. “No!” she screeched. “Let me go!”
“I’m not going to let you drown yourself in a rushing river, Ginger. What are you doing?”
I stepped out of the shadows of the trees, approaching her. She was flushed and frazzled, rain soaked, but as lovely as ever. Her eyes darted around wildly, and she clawed at her shadowy restraints.
The effort was futile.
“Brambleby,” she huffed.
My stomach twisted. “Your little beast?”
She nodded frantically. Her hair clung to her face in wild wisps, and her antlers shook. “In the water.”
I felt a little sick. I stepped forward to get a better look.
The little dragon was struggling to swim, clinging to a log and quickly losing the fight against the current. Another minute or so and the water would sweep him away.
I swallowed down bile. “And you were going to jump in and save him?”
“Of course!” she shouted, struggling even harder.
I allowed my shadows to soften and bend so they wouldn’t bruise her tender flesh, but she couldn’t advance another inch. I simply wouldn’t allow it. “And what about the current?”
“Fuck the current! Maybe it’s shallow enough for me to stand.”
I stared into the black, endless depths. “It’s deep.”
“I’ll grab the log, then, just let me—”
I dove in headfirst before she could finish the sentence.
The water stung my skin like needles. Though I thrashed my limbs and coaxed my shadows to help me, I sank almost instantly.
Blackness surrounded me, filled my mouth, drowned out the sounds of Ginger’s screams. Not the comfortable blackness I was used to—this blackness was hungry. Wild. It wanted to throw me around and pull me apart.
With great effort, I was able to force my head above water. My lungs convulsed, spitting out brackish water and greedily sucking down air. Fresh, delicious air.
I struggled to keep myself from going under again.
My cloak was dead weight pulling down my already sinking body, but it clung to me like a second skin, and I couldn’t spare the energy to take it off.
The current carried my shadows away before they could really help me, and I couldn’t concentrate enough to whip them into shape, split as they were keeping Ginger rooted to dry land. I could still feel her struggling, even more violently now.
I thrashed, pushing my muscles to their limit.
I stretched my arms out in front of me.
Finally, finally, my searching fingers met something solid.
The log was slimy and sludgy, and my fingernails screamed in protest when I dug them in for purchase.
I pulled myself closer.
The dragon slipped, wings sliding. He let out a strange, close-mouthed wail.
Ginger sobbed where she stood, pleading to whichever gods or fates would listen.
I gritted my teeth.
“Hang on, little beast,” I begged. “I’m coming.”
I used the log to pull myself closer. The beast was ten feet away. Five.
Almost in reach.
I stuck a hand out, fingertips darkened and bleeding, shadows whispering in the direction of the small dragon.
Fear shone in his eyes. Brambleby lifted a wing, slowly, in my direction.
And then he slipped from the log.
“NO!” Ginger screamed, throwing her body against my shadowy restraints with a strength she shouldn’t have possessed.
I feared they wouldn’t be able to hold her. I couldn’t save both her and the dragon at the same time.
They needed to both be safe.
They needed to both survive.
I leapt for the beast, hands outstretched. I didn’t care if the water yanked me under—I would do whatever it took to keep Ginger’s little companion above the thrashing current.
Blackness swallowed me again—but my fingers clasped around warm, scaly flesh, and I fought the urge to shout in triumph.
Until we both began to sink.
I kicked my feet as hard as I could, tucking the beast’s body under my arm the way Ginger so often did so I would have at least one hand free to thrash with.
The dragon fell still.
Panic kicked at my insides.
No.
I kicked like my life depended on it. Like Ginger’s life depended on it.
My shadows itched and stretched at Ginger’s struggling, but to my utter relief, they held.
The blackness lessened, the surface approaching.
I grabbed the dragon and shoved him above the surface.
He trembled, but his chest expanded, and he flapped his wings weakly.
My feet continued their wild kicking, doing whatever I had to do to keep the dragon above water. I headed sideways, letting the current be my compass, using my shadows restraining Ginger to be sure I was headed to the right riverbank.
The water fought my every movement.
I couldn’t remember who the goddess of water was, but I mentally cursed her all the same, deciding that I would hate her forever.
My lungs screamed, begging for air. My vision darkened at the edges.
My body wasn’t as sturdy as I’d previously assumed.
Consciousness threatened to leave me.
I kept kicking.
I would kick until I could kick no longer.
When I was certain my lungs were going to lose their fight for air, the dragon was yanked from my grasp.
My heart thudded sluggishly.
I was finally able to force my head above the surface.
I scrabbled for the riverbank, my torn fingertips dragging through mud and roots, ripping chunks free until I was finally able to find purchase.
I wrapped my shadows around my own forearms, securing my hold enough to pull my body out of the water. My exhausted muscles protested.
My shoulders left the water. My chest. My middle.
I slumped forward. My cheek pressed into the mud of the riverbank.
I didn’t care.
I had done it.
Rain pelted my sodden back in heavy, spiteful drops.
Fucking water. It was everywhere.
My lungs heaved, making up for lost time.
Sound came back to me slowly.
First, the heavy thudding of my own pulse, nearly drowned out by the ringing of my ears.
Then the roar of the downpour, broken by shocking cracks of thunder.
Then my Ginger’s voice.
Her voice was panicked, frantic, strangled by sobs, but still the sweetest thing I had ever heard.
And then it was coming closer.
My cheek lifted.
My mate was okay. I’d kept her out of the river.
She entered my field of vision, her hooves trodding through the mud before she dropped to a sitting position beside me.
Her hands fluttered over my back, patting and stroking, unsure where to settle as she babbled nervously.
“Oh! Oh, gods. Are you okay? Shade! What do we do? Are you dying? Please don’t die.
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
” And then her fists were thumping my back. “Fuck you! Why did you stop me?”
I groaned. I couldn’t even properly appreciate her rare use of profanity.
Words were painful in my water-choked throat. “He’s alright?”
She thumped my back harder for a moment before she dropped her shoulder to the ground beside me, her face level with mine. “He’s okay.” Her cheeks were raw and tear streaked.
“He’s okay,” I repeated. I let my eyes fall closed.
Her warm breath huffed against my face. “Hey. Hey! Don’t pass out on me!”
With great effort, I forced my eyes open again.
Ginger scrambled into a sitting position again, slipping her hands under my armpits and tugging with all her might.
The faun was trying to pull me the rest of the way out of the water.
My stomach warmed.
I helped her as much as I could, digging my elbows and knees into the slick ground and leaning my weight forward. My exhausted shadows assisted.
When my feet left the water and I was a few feet safely away from shore, she shoved at my shoulder, flipping me onto my back. I fell with a sodden splat.
She flopped down beside me with an exhausted huff.
The rain washed the mud from our fronts, piling it beneath us.
We looked at each other.
Her chest was heaving wildly, her hair a crown of tangles around her antlers.
She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
And she was alive.
I smiled at her.
She smiled back, a tentative, broken thing.
“The beast?” I asked, remembering his struggle. The poor guy must be exhausted.
She lifted a shaking hand and pointed.
The green dragon was sprawled flat in a pile of mud a few safe feet away, almost below the cover of trees.
His maw was clamped shut.
I lifted my head to get a better look. “You said he’s alright? Why isn’t he making any sound?”
She huffed out a tremulous laugh. “He’s alright. Just strange, sometimes.”
Brambleby finally opened his mouth, and a small moth fluttered free. It was brown, about the size of a silver coin.
Disbelief unhinged my jaw.
The dragon had fallen into the water, not fleeing from a predator, but because he had wanted to catch a moth.
Ginger burst into fresh tears.
“I can’t swim,” she sobbed.
I rested a trembling hand on her cheek and swept away her tears before the rain could take them. “Neither can I. It’s okay. We’re okay. Brambleby is okay.”