Chapter 12 #3
“Oh, do you think I could pet them? Really quick?” Farrah clucked her tongue before I could answer. “It’s okay, little ones. Don’t be scared.”
What did I do to deserve this punishment?
“Don’t touch them!” I snapped.
“Farrah! Get away from them!” Aven yelled, also not running across the rock like I had ordered them to, in the direction of away. Had Aven already forgotten that they had had one brush with death today? Did they feel like having another?
Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. What would Ellinore the Brave do?
Before I could figure that out, one of the little salamanders flicked out its tongue. Thankfully Farrah hadn’t touched its head and was able to bat the tongue away with the end of her staff. The baby cried out, whimpering and skittering slightly back.
A growling hiss from over the hill in front of us answered any questions I had about where the parent was.
No time to question now. I grabbed Farrah’s upper arm, tugging her harshly behind me before either of the babies could strike again.
She stumbled, loosening her grip on her staff, which I gratefully plucked from the curl of her fingers, then swiped in front of me, just in time to deflect another curious tongue lick from the little bugger.
The mother salamander made another terrifying noise, calling out to her misbehaving children.
The second baby salamander whipped around toward the noise of its parent, effectively smacking its tail into my leg. Its slimy, mucus-covered skin slithered across the rip in my trousers, right into the open cut I had there.
The burn of the toxin tingled into the wound and slowly seeped into my leg, but the pain was dull enough to ignore for now.
Which was good because the mother salamander appeared from between two large boulders, stalking toward us on her short, thick legs, her tail dragging behind her.
She was large even for an adult, and she spotted us immediately.
Her tongue flicked out, small cinders falling into the grass in bursts of light and sizzles.
The little ones ran back toward her and hid under her belly while emitting small cries, as if we had caused them great bodily harm, the little whiners.
But at least their antics took her attention off us.
“Back away slowly,” I said, holding the staff in both hands, knowing it would do little against an enraged momma salamander. But the illusion of safety was at least comforting.
The trio of us shuffled in the grass toward the outcropping, Farrah and Aven practically plastered against my back.
The mother salamander inspected her offspring, seemingly having forgotten about us, thank goodness, because my leg stung, and I didn’t know how long I had left before the toxin took actual hold. My foot was already half asleep.
“How close are we?” I whispered, not daring to take my eyes off the salamander family.
“Almost there,” Aven replied, voice pitched low.
“Good.” I licked my dry lips. “Once we get to the rock, run and jump. Salamanders are fast and great climbers, but they can’t jump to save their lives.”
“How do you know that?” Farrah asked.
Experience. “I just do.”
“Don’t question,” Aven snapped. “Listen to Ellinore.”
“If I don’t ask questions, how am I supposed to learn?” Farrah shot back.
“Well, maybe you should’ve listened the first time and not tried to make a baby fire salamander your pet!”
“Oh, get off your high horse. You’re just annoyed that you have to share Ellinore’s attention with me.”
“Will you two quit it!”
And that did it. The mother salamander whipped her head around and stared at us with her black, round eyes.
She opened her mouth, showing off her rows of razor-sharp teeth, and hissed a threat.
Okay. That was fine. She wasn’t moving toward us, and even if she ran, we’d be able to get across and jump…
probably. And it would take her time to follow—she’d have to crawl all the way down, then back up the other side. We’d be fine. Totally. I had this.
An answering growl rumbled to my left.
I whirled in the direction from whence we’d walked.
Oh, there was the mate. Much bigger and much, much closer.
I had no idea where he had emerged from; maybe he had climbed up the wall of the canyon or hidden behind some of the larger rocks.
No matter, he was there, and he was poised to attack.
He didn’t perceive us as threats to his children like the mother did. He perceived us as meals.
Bursts of flame shot from his nostrils. Oh yes. We were snacks. A tasty treat for his family.
He charged, his short legs a blur of motion.
“Run!” I said, shoving Farrah with my free hand.
I swiped the end of the staff in the nick of time, striking the salamander’s nose hard enough to knock him off track. He paused, stunned, which gave me enough time to glance over my shoulder. Farrah had taken my instruction and was poised to jump off the end of the outcropping to the other side.
Aven had not, and hovered.
“Go!”
“But—”
The salamander attacked again, catching the end of the staff in his teeth, the sharp points carving furrows into the wood.
I played a fierce game of tug-of-war, trying to dislodge the weapon as flames licked up the shaft.
The last thing I needed was for Farrah’s staff to catch like kindling. Then I’d really be in trouble.
“Go, Aven! You’re unarmed and in the way!”
Aven took a hesitant step toward the edge.
“I’ll follow as soon as I can create some distance!” I couldn’t take my eyes off the salamander, but I waited anxiously for any sound that suggested they were listening to me.
Their footsteps quickened, their heels thumping against the rock, and then silence as they jumped. An “oof” followed, which told me they had landed safely on the other side with Farrah. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I switched my focus from holding the salamander off to escaping.
I wrenched the staff from the salamander’s jaws of death and fire.
He changed tactics as well and whipped his tail at my knees.
I jumped out of the way, my leg threatening to crumble beneath me as the toxin worked its way through my veins.
I brought the staff down again toward the salamander’s head.
At the last second he retreated, and the staff struck the stone.
“Ow!” I yelled as the force reverberated into my hands and elbows.
It hurt, but the loud crack was enough to frighten the creature into scrambling a few feet away.
Before it could mount another attack, I turned and took off running.
My wound throbbed. My head hurt. My vision swam.
I didn’t even know if I was going to make it across without injuring myself further, or falling to my boiling death, but it was a risk I was willing to take to avoid being killed and then eaten, or worse, eaten and then killed.
With a last burst of adrenaline, I pushed off and jumped. I flew through the air and miraculously landed on the other side. Somehow I kept my footing with the help of the staff, stumbling only a few steps.
Whew. I’d survived. And so had my companions. Mission accomplished. Yay.
“Wow,” Farrah mouthed. “That was just like in the stories.”
Aven crossed their arms. “You almost got us killed,” they muttered. “What in the ancients were you thinking?”
“That the baby lizard things were cute. That’s what I was thinking. I’d never seen anything like them before. How was I supposed to know that their parents were fire-breathing, hissing, large lizard things?”
I tuned them out as they argued. My chest heaved. My knee throbbed. My head pounded. My wound burned. Oh, yeah, there was the toxin. Felt great.
I dropped the staff and hunched over.
“Can you two pause arguing for one second?” I asked, catching my breath, hands on my knees. “We may be out of immediate danger, but that doesn’t mean we should stop here.”
“Ellinore?” Aven asked, tentatively patting my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re flushed.”
I straightened and placed my hands on my hips. Wow. The whole world wavered. I swallowed, then coughed. “I’m fine,” I croaked. “Absolutely perfect.”
Judging by Aven’s narrowed eyes, they didn’t believe me.
“Third rule of questing, Farrah,” I said, still panting. “Don’t touch things. Especially if they’re cute.”
“Okay. What are the first two rules?”
I waved away the question. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s get going.”
I took a step.
Then my leg gave out.