Chapter 78
I swing the heavy sack up through the entry hole and let go, breathing a sigh of relief when it thuds against the floor inside. Still gripping the ledge, I use the back of my free arm to wipe the sweat from my brow—
A gust of wind powers past me so fast it almost smacks me off the wall.
I slap my other hand up and claw at the ledge while my heart takes big, fisted swings at my insides, wondering if Clode saw the opportunity to try and make me shit myself and thought, Fuck it. Why not?
Gulping breath, I look down past my ruffling cloak to the jagged ground far below. To the toothy stones poking up from the snow, perfect for spearing through falling bodies. A grisly end I’d very much feel before gurgling my final breath.
Not for the first time, I curse Raeve’s questionable choice of lodgings.
If I’m going to keep up with Gruffin’s growing appetite, I need to construct some sort of pulley system. Or eventually fall to my death trying to haul a sack of plump vermin up here every dae, twice a dae.
I sigh and heave past the glamour hiding the hole, into the warmth. Glimpse Essi from the corner of my eye—hunched over her worktable, just as she was when I left.
Just as she’s been since the aurora rose and fell, then rose and fell again.
Swinging my other leg up, I shift into a seated position and work to catch my breath while unlacing my boots. “If you heard me squeal out there, no you didn’t.”
When Essi doesn’t respond with one of her usual quips—or at all—I kick off my second boot and move through the room, shucking off my bow, quiver, and satchel of looted supplies. The moment Essi’s profile comes into view, I stop.
A smile breaks across my face.
I take her in: eyes shut, hair a bloodred blast about her face. Her cheek is pressed flat on a stack of leather-bound books she was pawing through before I left, mouth open as she breathes soft and slow.
About time.
I dig into my pocket, pulling out two perfectly round rocks I found down in the Ditch.
I set them near the books and begin shifting uncorked tinctures aside in case she moves in her sleep.
Slipping the etching stick from her loose grip, I’m about to set it down when my gaze homes in on the glossy red tip …
Blood.
I frown, noticing the bandage around her left hand.
“Fuck, Essi.”
Teeth gritted, I lean forward and look through her scope, shaking my head at the minuscule blood-soaked runes she’s etched in the stone.
Whatever she’s up to, I don’t like it.
“Sqwarrrrk!”
I step back, crouching to see Gruffin nesting at Essi’s feet amongst a coiled throw, one ruddy eye slit open.
Watching me.
I scratch the crest of thick feathers rising above his eyes. “I should’ve known she’d smuggle you up here while I was out.”
He tilts his head, requesting a neck scratch. Fluffs himself as I abide—his feathers darker at the base than I was expecting them to be. Such contrast to the powdery ends, iridescent in certain lights.
In truth, he reminds me of a velvet trogg: blue and really fucking hungry.
I dig my fingers deeper, and he shivers all over, fluffs his wings, then tosses them wide, showcasing their vast and floppy span, now half as wide as my own stretched arms.
Impressive for such a young buck.
While he’s distracted, I take the opportunity to crack some of the remaining pin feathers beneath his beak. “Just remember, you eat her, you’re out.” I flick a bit of calcified sheath away. “You’ll be taking your first flight through the vomit hole so fuckin’ fast.”
He makes the same scratchy sound Maell makes when she’s spotted something she wants to prey on. Except I fed the little fucker before I left. And based on the pile of stripped carcasses beside his makeshift nest, Essi’s also fed him since.
He tucks his wings, arches his head back over himself, and starts pecking at the bones, flicking them about when he finds them stripped. One hurtling carcass away from waking Essi from her first nap in daes.
With a deep sigh, I drag the laden sack over, sit on a low stool, and get to work skinning the furry rodents, stripping meat as I go and dropping it straight down Gruffin’s ever-ready gullet, saving the organs for him to pick at later.
We fall into the swift rhythm we’ve perfected over the past few daes—one where I don’t fuck around and he marginally avoids amputating my fingers.
Once his sternum is bulging so much I’m worried it’ll burst, he coils against Essi’s foot, tucks his head beneath a wing, and goes back to sleep.
Another sigh as I wipe my bloody hands, looking in my sack at the meager three remaining rodents that took me half the dae to catch.
“Shit.”
Perhaps they’ll last longer if I stop stripping the meat and just hack them into chunks?
I scratch the back of my head, looking at Gruffin. Decide his throat’s too small to stuff my arm down if a bone gets stuck. Which leaves me only one option:
Hunt the plains for something bigger and meatier than the common vermin.
“Forgot how tiring this is,” I mutter, wishing the others were back already. Not for the first time, I wonder what’s taking so long, agitated by the knots in my gut that’ve made my appetite dwindle as fast as Gruffin’s has grown.
I pad around for my looted flask, then remember I haven’t been able to find anything to fill it with.
Because the world is ending, everything’s gone to shit, and Raeve and Kaan are probably dumped in a snowy ditch somewhere.
And I was the stupid one who offered to stay behind but didn’t ask which direction they were headed.
Idiot.
Scrubbing my face with my hands, I glance at Essi. Consider relocating her onto the seater before I leave so she can have a more comfortable sleep. Except she might take it the wrong way.
Probably shouldn’t.
I empty the sack, then fill it with the stripped carcasses that’ll make good bait.
Knotting the top, I look toward the exit, trying to summon the energy to move.
End up shifting the stool out from under me and flopping across the ground—joints achy, lids heavy from staring down the line of arrows, hunting the rodents that’ve found their new lot in life feasting on the slain folk trussed up in the Ditch.
It’s hard to see the rodents and not the fae they’re chewing on. Harder to shake the sense that I should find something to do about it rather than sit back and pretend it’s not my problem.
Suddenly exhausted, I let my eyes shut.
Just a little rest. Then I’ll gather my shit and go catch something meaty.
Fucking hate going south of the wall. Everything wants to eat you. Even the ground has an appetite for swallowing things that move. And Pah’s out there somewhere in a snowy grave I was never able to find.
I blindly bat around and grab a pillow from the seater, stuff it under my head, then put a mental timer on myself.
One hundred counts, then I’ll get back up again.
I only make it to twenty-two before exhaustion yanks me under.