Chapter 8
The lingering mist from the night’s chill blanketed the clearing in dense, milky-white fog.
While trees shrouded the sunrise from view, Tethys could feel the new day’s light chasing the horizon.
Procyon, still snoring in an unmoving sleep, groaned as she uncurled his arm from around her waist and slipped out of bed.
When would she tire of this routine? It was exhausting, every morning washing his very essence from her body, shielding herself with the rising dawn, only to sink back into that numb, broken shell by night’s arrival.
The convoy was silent in their drunken slumbers.
A cool breeze bristled the trees, and leaves, disturbed from their branches, floated to the ground.
These quiet mornings—when she felt like the only being left on the continent—offered her a small sliver of peace amidst the chaos, like she could finally breathe without worry of a gaze drenched in scrutiny or a wandering, curious eye.
Her solitude, however, was short lived when a certain lieutenant paced back from the trailhead. His weapon, sheathed at the hip, clanked with each powerful stride. Exhaustion circled his eyes, she noticed, as they found her across the clearing.
“You’re up early,” she clipped, dipping her waterskin into their reserves.
Although their route followed the snaking riverbed, Procyon insisted they carried barreled water.
It was an excess weight for the horses’ pack, and although she knew their staff and horse-hands protested, none made their disagreements known.
None dared to question the great Autumn King himself.
Little did they know that same divine ruler was still slumped and drooling like a babe in his bed.
“I took the dawn’s watch, my queen. The previous patrol heard whispers along the tree line, so I was making sure our encampment was still secure,” he replied.
The words were low and gruff, sending a warmth through her system she swiftly ignored.
Yes, seeing him like this, with disheveled hair and slackened clothes, did something to her, but never in a thousand years was she about to admit that.
“And what did you find?” she asked, scanning the trees herself.
“Nothing,” was his reply. Araes dipped his chin and found a seat on a rotting, ancient stump.
“Those drunken fools probably heard a leaf rustle and cried wolf,” Tethys scoffed, joining Araes on the stump.
He smirked and retrieved an apple from his satchel. “Most likely.” Rather than biting into the fruit, however, he passed it to her.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’m not hungry,” she replied, gesturing a refusal.
“It will be a long morning ride once camp is packed out. You’ll need some sustenance for the journey,” he insisted.
She clicked her tongue and took the fruit from him.
“Did you find sleep?” Araes prodded, bracing an elbow on his knee.
She knew the question had more depth to it, but that was a line she wasn’t yet ready to cross.
Araes had shown her kindness this morning between the faint sun beams refracting off ancient tree trunks and rippling brush, but he’d once called her naive.
Childish. She wouldn’t mistake his pity for compassion.
“I did not give you leave for such casual conversation,” she snapped.
“Apologies, my queen,” he replied, his jaw ticking. Araes rose from his seat and started for the paddock. His black mare huffed a delighted greeting as he retrieved a second apple from his satchel and outstretched it to her.
Tethys sat in silence for a while, watching him care for the horse. His brush moved lazily down her mane. He was exhausted, she realized. He hadn’t needed to pick up an extra watch. There were plenty of city guards to fill the position, and yet, he did.
Maybe he avoided the discomforts of his makeshift tent. Or maybe, like her, memories haunted him like wolves in the midnight chill.
Solely because he was the only steady presence in her life at the moment, she considered rising to join him.
But as much as she willed herself to move from that stump, her body refused.
She’d molded herself into this cruel, vacant shell, and as time crept by, it became harder and harder to chip it away.
She craved the rushing water of the eastern river. Maybe its warm, rippling surface would melt the frost now glazed over her heart. If anything, it’d soothe the ache in her knees just enough to make the next leg of their journey bearable.
Tethys finished the apple and rose from her seat.
“I’d like to bathe, Lieutenant,” she said.
He nodded a silent acknowledgement and pointed to the trailhead adjacent to the continental chariot. “There’s river access a few paces that way. I’ll escort you,” he said.
“No need, I’ll be fine alone,” she replied, starting toward the trail.
A lone firewing butterfly fluttered through the clearing.
Interesting; she hadn’t seen a firewing in a couple hundred years.
Tethys assumed the species died away with the changing landscape, but there it was, floating between milkweed bulbs.
Araes huffed and joined her anyway.
The river rushed over smooth pebbles of every color. Red, green, even yellow stones painted the streaming bed in gorgeous hues. Tethys, having left Araes with his back turned to her, cupped her hands into the sun-warmed, crystalline flow.
Although she could stay brook-side for the rest of the morning, she washed quickly.
Her scalp itched in relief as she unclasped each pin that held her golden hair in a knot at the crown of her head.
Wild, shimmering locks fell to her shoulders and trailed the curve of her hips as she peeled off the sweat-saturated clothing.
But a dark purple bruise, starting to form just above her waist, sent memories clawing up her body, and she fixed her gaze on the river’s rapids instead.
Thank the gods they’d be traveling to a colder climate.
No one would question the longer sleeves and higher neckline.
The rapids eased her inferno mind as she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed.
Although far too aware of Araes’s presence only yards away, she unlaced her underclothes and let them fall to her ankles.
Water whirled around her knees as she waded into the river, letting the frigid sensation numb her aching joints.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and sank. Her hair, like golden tendrils of aether floating to the surface, followed the rippling current, stronger in the center than by the shore.
Turbulent water stifled the world just enough for her thoughts to quiet. She could stay beneath the rushing depths. Foamy air pockets wrapped around her like the embrace of an old friend. It was simple here. Quiet.
So, she sank further to the river’s bottom, letting her toes burrow into sand.
Tethys envied the minnows, darting from pebble to pebble, and the river snails, suckered to split rocks.
How peaceful life must be down here. There was no heartbreak, no loneliness.
Just a simple desire to live. Self-preservation drove their waking and their rest. Here, these little creatures were free from torment and the sort of darkness only human life creates.
Only when her lungs burned for new air did she breach the surface.
She wiped the residual droplets of water from her brow and started further toward the river’s center.
The tree line against the opposing riverbank rustled, however, halting her next step.
Tethys’s eyes shot to an infant oak tree as its still-green branches flexed against an intrusive weight.
“Lieutenant…?” she whispered over her shoulder.
Before he could respond, though, three creatures slithered from the shadowy overgrowth. Tethys felt the scream rise in her throat before their demonic eyes stole it away.
These creatures weren’t of the natural world.
Their flesh sagged and contorted into nightmarish grins, displaying rows of needle sharp teeth littered with rotten chunks of carrion.
Milky white eyes, void of pupils, locked on her for a heartbeat, then scanned the horizon beyond.
Even only a brief moment of being under that bone-chilling gaze sent a blast of panic through her very core.
Inhumanly long limbs hung from their shoulder sockets and dragged over the forest floor, and black shreds of fabric clung to sinewy rib cages. The material swayed with each limping step the creatures took toward her.
Tethys’s heart pounded in her chest, begging her to flee, but her legs were heavier than tree trunks. Her skin, bare and exposed in the misty morning air, prickled as the creatures drew closer to the shoreline.
Run.
Those ghostly eyes washed over her again, burying her feet further into the sand.
Run, you fool. Run.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see past those yellowing teeth.
The creature to her right unhinged its jaw.
As if held in place by skin alone, it widened until it might swallow her whole.
Its throat was like the blackest, depthless pit, pulling her into its hypnotic field.
Her eyes locked on to that darkness, and only terrifying emptiness stared back.
Run.
Tethys, at odds with her instincts, finally back-stepped. Her body knocked against a rigid, mountainous chest and gentle arms wrapped a grey cloak around her.
“Do not make any sudden movements,” Araes breathed into her ear. “The river masks our sound and scent. They haven’t noticed us yet.” Although facing what felt like death itself, gooseflesh rose along the backs of her arms. His breath was warm on her cheek, and she sank into his embrace.
Araes’s words registered, finally. They haven’t noticed us yet. Those milky white eyes were incapable of vision—the three creatures relied on their other senses to hunt their prey.