13. Aryn #2
After a few minutes of stillness, I join Ronan at the front to study the routes before us. “We’ll need to be careful,” I say to the group. “If thraun are here, so are predators that hunt them.”
Cameron stares at where they disappeared. “What, uh… what sort of predator hunts something that big? Because logic says if they’re eating something that size for dinner, they’ve gotta be even bigger.”
“Or just better predators,” Cato says, then bares his teeth and curls his fingers like they’re claws.
“Thanks for that visual,” Cameron says. “Believe it or not, that’s not any more comforting than them being huge.”
Ronan catches my gaze for a moment, a silent communication passing between us to be on guard. “Keep chatter to a minimum,” he says to the group. “We’ll travel in the shadows as much as possible. Stay alert.”
Lillith falls back a step to take Taryn’s hand as Cato and I meet eyes again. The teasing grin has fallen from his face, replaced by that steely determination he wears like armor. We keep our place in the rear, watching the woods and listening for any signs of trouble.
We travel the rest of the day in relative silence, only stopping to eat a quick lunch.
Everyone adjusts to the weather better today, either because the shock of the cold has worn off or because we’re staying in constant motion.
After a few hours, the snow isn’t as thick under our feet and the sun is bright in the sky.
It makes traveling easier, and despite the tense silence, spirits are high.
We pass a dilapidated cottage and a small abandoned village, but don’t stop to investigate.
A few times, we hear the sounds of footsteps around us, but aside from a growing number of wildlife, the day passes without event.
Everyone’s exhausted and hungry by the time evening hits, and we hunt for a place to stop while we still have daylight.
Just after sunset, we spot a small alcove that backs up to a rock edge. We’re guarded on two sides, so it’s as good a spot as any to camp tonight. Cameron and Taryn lay out a tarp as a layer between our sleeping bags and the icy ground, then secure another overhead to block the spitting snowflakes.
I gather wood to build a fire, and once it’s burning, Ronan puts together a hot meal. It’s nothing fancy—rice and a few cans of chili over the top—but it warms me all the way to my bones.
We sit around the fire until the first phase of the moons hits, when the twin giants are alone in the sky.
It’s too much of a risk to leave it burning in the dark, though Cameron whines quietly as we smother it to embers.
We set up a watch rotation with Ronan taking the final shift so he can get a longer stretch of sleep.
He places his sleeping bag at the front of the group with his sword within arm’s reach, but I don’t miss his smile as Cameron curls up against him.
The first watch is mine, and it doesn’t take long before everyone’s breathing steadies. The temperature drops as darkness settles, but it’s not as jarring as last night. I perch on one of the large rocks nearby, scanning the woods as I let my thoughts wander.
There’s been so much activity and excitement since we arrived that I haven’t given myself the chance to consider what being back here actually means.
Studying the passages between the worlds has been my life’s work, but it means very little compared to the other reason I’ve been fighting to come home.
I reach a gloved hand into the top of my coat and hook the chain around my neck. The ring that hangs from it hasn’t left my body since I was taken so long ago. I study it, letting the moonlight reflect off the edges I know by heart.
It’s heavy, old silver worn smooth by generations of hands. Interlocking hoops form a perfect circle along the band, representing the eternal wisdom passed through the ages. A rueful smile tugs at my lips as I imagine my ancestors’ reactions to knowing the journey I’ve taken.
Passing between worlds and walking with the Fates. It sounds like a tale we’d tell to our young, and I wonder if they’d even believe me if they heard it.
I spin the ring to where the sigil of my house is carved into the flat surface of the opposite side. An open book split by a drawn blade, with the three moons beyond. Knowledge guarded by discipline, overlooked by unwavering loyalty.
Even after all these years, it feels like a vow against my chest. My father pressed it into my hands and declared me the head of our family, with a smile so wide I can still picture it all these years later. It was such an honor, and one I wore with pride.
Only five years passed before I was taken. The last time I saw my father, that smile was replaced by fear, even as I tried to reassure him I would be fine.
I wasn’t fine.
How could I ever be, after what they did?
I often wonder what happened in my absence. How long did they search for me, and how deeply were their hearts broken when I didn’t return?
The mountains block the moonlight, almost taunting me with their distance. Even after an entire day of nonstop walking, they don’t look any closer than they did this morning. I squint, desperately searching for signs of life in the foothills despite knowing we’re too far.
A cold knot tightens in my chest at the thought that I may be the last of my family still breathing. What if no others survived the wars? What if the army returned and wiped them out, and I’ve been chasing an impossible dream?
What if more names have been carved into tombs alongside the one I once loved above all others?
A rustle of leaves steals my attention, and I force myself to stay in the present. I drop the chain back under my shirt, the weight of the ring suddenly much heavier against my skin.