Chapter 8 Araphi #2
“I’ll take this one,” Nura yells, squaring her shoulders and hefting her staff. She whirls toward the wolf closest to her, striking out and whacking it. She’s so fast, Araphi can barely keep up with her movements.
As Nura fights the wolf, Araphi turns her attention to the final creature, the gray one, who’s now stalking toward her.
“I’ve got this one!” Sage shouts, leaping through the scattered embers of the fire. She moves toward the wolf, daggers in hand.
“Not by yourself, Ranger.” Araphi is still holding her flaming stick.
Sage starts to say something, but at that moment, the wolf lunges at Araphi. She brandishes her stick toward its face, hoping to jam it into the creature’s mouth, but the wolf snaps it like a toothpick.
Pain lances through Araphi’s right forearm as the wolf turns, one of its shoulder barbs digging into her skin.
The wolf growls and darts back toward her again, but before she can do anything sensible like run for her life, there’s a blur of motion to her right.
Steel glints in the firelight, and then Sage lands on top of Araphi, shoving her to the ground.
As she does so, she slices an arc along the wolf’s flank.
Araphi is pinned between Sage’s legs, and the ranger’s leather-and-steel smell nearly overwhelms her.
The wolf lets out a tremendous roar of pain, and from her position on the ground, Araphi watches Bramble and Remy charge in for an attack.
The wolf falls to the ground, and Nura—somehow already done with the other wolf—delivers a killing blow.
As soon as it’s dead, Sage collapses on top of Araphi’s chest, breathing hard. It’s not the worst position to be in, and Araphi fights the urge to pull Sage’s face to hers.
“What were you thinking, Bard?” Sage asks, sitting up once she’s caught her breath.
She’s straddling Araphi, and that’s making it nearly impossible for her to think about anything other than the undeniable heat of their bodies together and the bead of sweat that runs down the open V of Sage’s shirt.
Wrenching her gaze away from that V, Araphi looks instead at the cut on her own arm. Blood soaks her sleeve, and pain chases the adrenaline pounding through her veins. She meets Sage’s gaze and says, with some effort, “I’m thinking I really must learn how to fight.”
Then, she promptly passes out.
When Araphi comes around a few minutes later, the camp is in chaos. Sage sits beside her, eyebrows drawn, assessing the damage. Her horse, Reaper, stands a few paces away. There’s a bandage on Araphi’s arm and Bramble looms over her.
“The poultice under there will help with the poison in the wound,” they say. “It’s going to ache like the five hells for a few days, but you’ll live.”
“Thank you,” Araphi says. The wound is on her playing arm, and pain already throbs along it, but she isn’t dead by poison. A win, to be sure.
Rubbing at the bandage, she looks around the camp.
Tents and supplies have been trampled by the wolves.
Clothing, food, gear, weapons, papers, maps, blankets, and everything else they packed is scattered around the fire.
Someone has placed Araphi’s lute beside her.
Mercifully, or perhaps magically, it hasn’t been broken. She hugs the insrument to her chest.
“My books!” Tea cries out a few paces away. She reaches toward the fire to pluck at a tome that’s mostly ash. Several others are torn or still burning in the flames.
“Don’t do that,” Nura snaps, hauling her back. “You’ll burn your hands off.”
Tea clutches a ruined book in her arms, and her face falls.
She’s the picture of devastation. “But those were library books. I have to bring them back! Do you know what the librarians at Trouferry do if you don’t return a book?
Oh gods, I’m never going to pass my degree.
” She limps a few feet and collapses on a log.
“No bringing those in the fire back at least,” Nura says. “But we can look for the others once you get that ankle sorted out.”
“I can help with that,” Bramble says, making their way over to the fire. “Some of my healer kit was carried off with the horses, but I can make do.”
Araphi’s stomach drops at his words. “The horses?” she says, her voice a croak.
Bramble nods once, holding her gaze. “They came untied and took off near the start of the fight, I think. All of them are gone except for Sage’s Reaper; somehow, she summoned him back mid-battle before he got too far. The rest are probably halfway to Kingfisher by now.”
“With our saddlebags and the goods that weren’t yet unpacked from them,” Remy adds bitterly, coming to sit down by the fire.
“I’m sorry,” Araphi manages. “That’s my fault. I thought I tied them up, but…”
Sage shakes her head. “It’s not your fault, and if they’d all been tied up securely, they’d probably be wolf dinner by now. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. My party, my responsibility. I should’ve made sure the saddlebags were off.”
“I…I didn’t think to take them off when I tied them up. I should have known.”
Sage doesn’t insult her by arguing, only sighs more deeply. “Well, I should’ve taken the first watch. I shouldn’t have gone to my tent early. I should’ve—”
“You can’t possibly be responsible for everything,” Araphi interrupts, reaching out a hand to touch Sage’s arm.
“But she is,” Remy says darkly, lighting his pipe. “She’s the party leader.”
Sage glares at him for a moment. “My tent is mostly unharmed. Whoever wants it can have it. The rest of us will have to sleep on the ground.”
“I’ll sleep on the ground,” Araphi volunteers.
Sage shrugs. “As you will. I’m going to see what I can scavenge. Nura, you keep an eye on things. Bramble, see about Tea’s ankle and any other injuries, please.”
“What about me?” Araphi asks.
“Try not to fall off anything or make things worse,” Remy snaps as he stomps in the direction where his tent used to stand.
Remy’s words bounce off Araphi—he’s always vaguely cranky with her, and she’s heard worse in her aunt’s drawing room—but Araphi wonders if Sage regrets bringing her along now too.
She blows out a breath as she watches Sage walk away.
Guilt settles in her stomach. They’re down to just one tent.
All the horses are gone except Reaper, and their supplies are questionable at best. And a lot of that’s Araphi’s fault.
There’s no way she can charm or buy her way out of this.
No. Tonight she has to sit in discomfort and disappointment.
Which she can do on a figurative level. But she can’t just sit here by the fire while everyone else cleans up her mess.
“I’ll go look for your books, Tea,” Araphi says, standing up. Her head spins for a moment and her arm aches from the wolf’s poison, but she grits her teeth through the pain, which she certainly has no right to complain about.