11. Aryn #2
Ronan lets out a soft scoff. “Mo’sziv, we’re in a place where none of us have stepped foot in almost a century. We’re working on instinct alone.”
“Your mate is right,” I confirm. “While I would love nothing more than a concrete plan with set expectations, it isn’t possible.”
I lean into the map, catching a faint whiff of Cato’s scent and becoming hyper-aware of his solid presence looming beside me. My fingertip traces a winding path that heads northwest, skirting the edges of the mountains. “This is the path we need to follow.”
“Why?” Ronan demands, pointing at a road that leads due north. “There’s a more direct route.”
“There is,” I agree. I gesture at a small divot in the edge of the mountain range, fighting past the lump that forms in my throat from seeing the sketched walls on the map.
“This village was my home. It’s safe in the mountains, and they always prided themselves on their scholars.
The library was full of current and historical data, and constantly being updated.
If…” I swallow hard, pushing the words out.
“If it is still there, they will welcome us. It will give us insight into what’s happening in the world and be a safe place to regroup. ”
Cato studies the map, tracing the obstacles along the way. “That’s a week’s travel, at least.”
“Assuming good conditions, yes. Likely more.”
Cameron groans, though he’s stopped shivering as his body adjusts to the cold. “Nyx’s family lived close to this portal, didn’t they?” he asks.
Ronan’s expression is cautious as he meets his eyes. “They did.”
Cameron glances around, searching for any signs of life in the night. “We could look for them? They might have information.” His eyes are pleading as they land back on Ronan’s, and I know the reason he wants to find them has nothing to do with gathering intel.
“They might,” Ronan agrees. “He spoke of the path he traveled when he found the rift for the first time. It will do us some good to scout the immediate area. We’ll return here eventually, and the movement will help our limbs warm up.”
“Lead the way, then,” Cato says, pulling his blade from its holster. “I’ll bring up the rear.”
We fall into an unspoken formation. Ronan leads with Lillith at his side, then Cameron and Taryn file in behind them. Cato follows, his eyes never staying in one place for long as he scans our surroundings. I take my place beside him, glancing through the trees for signs of life and finding none.
We move through the snow in near silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of our boots and the occasional whisper of wind through skeletal branches.
Cato stays close at my side, his breath coming in visible clouds.
Every few steps, his eyes flick toward the flowers and vines that glow faintly in the crimson moonlight.
After a long stretch of quiet, he speaks, voice low so it won’t carry to the others ahead.
“It’s weird that shit’s growing in this, right?” He nods toward a cluster of deep red petals half-buried in snow. “Feels unnatural.”
I smile faintly, comforted by how familiar the sight still feels. “The blood orchids used to only grow high in the mountains, but I suppose as it got colder, they’ve claimed the lands down here as well.”
“Blood orchids,” he mutters, toeing one with his boot. “They couldn’t be named like, sunshine daisies or something?”
I fight a grin. “That sweet smell comes from them. Their petals only open when the moons are high. That scent used to roll down the mountains at night. We’d only catch faint whiffs of it, but there never used to be this many of them. They’ve grown defiant, I suppose.”
“I can appreciate that. I’d be defiant in this bullshit weather, too.” Cato tries to flash a cocky smirk, though it turns into another shiver. He adjusts his scarf with gloved hands, pulling it higher on his face.
I glance sideways at him. “You’re handling the cold better than I expected.”
“Barely,” he admits. “If I’m being honest, my lungs feel like they’re full of glass. But this place…” He tilts his face up to the sky, and for a moment I’m speechless, staring at the way the pink and red hues wash over him.
They shine off him as the breeze blows, shifting through his hair and making it dance like fire on his head.
The copper strands catch the glow like embers stirred by the wind, making him look like he was born from flames.
He’s beautiful and dangerous, the type of wildfire that could consume everything in its path.
Rha khor.
The thought settles uncomfortably hot in my chest.
Cato lowers his head again, unaware of my attention. “It’s strange. Bash would be geeking out so hard if he were here.”
Thankful for the distraction, I smile at the thought. “He would be. Though I doubt we’d accomplish anything because he’d want to stop and study every plant and insect we passed.”
“Gods, the samples he’d want to take,” he groans. “I get it, though. I’ve never been interested in science too much, but even I want to study this shit. Everything feels… alive. Even the air.”
I follow his gaze, my chest tightening with old memories. “It is alive. You can feel it in the ground and the plants. Even the wind… like the world is breathing with you.” My voice softens. “I’d forgotten how heavy that feeling is.”
Cato is quiet for a few steps, boots sinking deeper into the snow. “You grew up here,” he says. “Does it feel like coming home?”
I consider the question, watching the faint glow of vines strung between the trees. “It’s like remembering a dream you half-forgot. The world is familiar, but everything feels very different. The contrast of past and present is…”
“Confusing?” he offers.
I nod. “Unsettling. It’s the same place, but it also isn’t. It’s hitting me harder than I expected.”
He nods slowly, eyes drifting around the trees. “I think I get that. It’s like going to visit the home you grew up in. The bones might be the same, but everything else has moved on.”
“That’s awfully poetic for a mercenary.”
“Ah,” he drawls as he throws me a wink. “I’m more than just a handsome face.”
“I never doubted that,” I toss back.
He smiles at the ground, tracking another patch of blood orchids. “The flowers are pretty, even if they look like they’d bite if you got too close.”
“They might. Everything here has teeth, one way or another.”
He hums low in his throat. “Guess we’ll have to grow some teeth of our own, then.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I suppose we will.”