A Strange Awareness
WREN
Running might be the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, but riding isn’t much higher on the list.
The moons are hiding behind clouds, and snowflakes are falling lazily all around us. Perhaps if I’d been inside, watching the snow fall from the comfort of a seat in front of the fire, I’d think it was picturesque.
But from where I’m sitting, perched on a horse with the Hunter at my back, it’s another sign that winter is setting in. A reminder that the weather will get much worse before it gets better. My bottom and legs went numb long ago, and the discomfort has made for a very long night.
Even worse is the fact that there isn’t enough room on this steed for both me and Gabriel to sit without touching. Every jostle sends me into him; every bend makes it impossible to forget how muscular his thighs are or how warm he is compared to me.
The first night I’d been too lost in my grief to care much about his presence behind me, but that’s no longer the case. Each time he brushes against me, flames course through me, making sure I’m constantly aware of just how close we are.
In short, sharing a horse with the Hunter is torturous.
Gabriel’s arms cage me in as he handles the reins with the practiced skill of someone who has been riding for most of his life. I’d be jealous, but I’m too busy trying to survive.
When I woke earlier, before the suns set, I felt broken. Tired. Filled with heartache and grief.
The awful truth, the one that I came to realize yesterday, was that leaving my sisters was the right thing to do.
Being around me is risky, that much is clear.
Danger follows me no matter where I go. But even though I’ve come to accept that truth, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
As if he knows I need to process everything, Gabriel has been quiet today, giving me time to think.
It’s exactly what I need, and the fact that he seemed to know that instinctively confuses me.
I’m not sure what to do about the Hunter. Earlier, he helped me onto the horse, his hands spanning my hips. He lifted me with ease, and I could’ve sworn his fingers lingered longer than necessary before he pulled them away. He left a flash of heat in his wake as he swung into the saddle behind me.
Since then, I’ve been stuck in my head for hours, staring blankly into the darkness—
Wait.
Are those shadows different than the rest?
I blink, and they’re still there. Five human-shaped blobs, barely visible against the night sky that are growing larger. They’re far away, but everything within me screams that they’re dangerous.
“Gabriel,” I whisper urgently, my voice far too loud in the silence of the woods. “Do you see that?”
Pointing towards the shapes with one hand, I reach up with the other and tug my hood as far as it will go, concealing my Mark’s glow.
There’s a moment’s pause as Gabriel follows my trembling finger.
“Gods damn it. Those are Watchers.” The low sound sends shivers cascading down my spine.
His arm tightens. He drags me back, and his hardened length is right there.
I can feel all of it, and oh, gods. I’ve been doing a pretty good job of ignoring that particular part of the Hunter, but there’s no doing that now.
Even though I try to tell myself this is a natural reaction, something that comes from sharing the same horse, I don’t really believe it.
“Hold on, Wren.”
It’s the only warning I get before Gabriel whispers a command. Chaos bolts off the road, moving faster than before, and my fingers fly off the saddle. My nails dig into Gabriel’s arm, but he must be made of steel, because he doesn’t react.
We fly past trees, their branches clawing at us as we seek the security of the dark woods. Our surroundings pass in a blur, and I do as Gabriel said—I hold on like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
I used to think riding horses would be fun. It looked fun when all I could do was watch as my brothers Markus and James rode.
It turns out, I was wrong. Suns save me, I was so incredibly wrong.
After riding for five consecutive days, I’ve concluded that while horses seem nice and they look pretty, riding is not for me.
All of me, from my head to my toes, which are currently tucked inside my fur-lined boots, courtesy of Maia, hurts.
I am one giant bruise, and even breathing feels like a chore.
There is a pain in my hips that started on the first night, and it hasn’t let up since. My hips, my legs, even my butt hurts, crying out whenever I move. For the suns’ fucking sakes, I never even knew there were muscles in my bottom.
Even though we stop to give Chaos—and ourselves—frequent breaks, it doesn’t seem like enough. Each time we get back on the horse, the pain is exponentially worse.
Dark and gloomy woods surround me where I stand next to the gelding. Trees, tall and spindly and lacking all signs of life, cast dark shadows around us as the moons rise. A stream is trickling nearby, the source of our drinking water.
Earlier, when I woke in the late afternoon, I wet a cloth and cleaned my body as best I could.
The sponge bath had felt as luxurious as a long soak in a hot spring after days of riding.
I would give anything to wash my hair, but there’s no time for that.
The moons are ascending, and it’s almost time to ride again.
Chaos’s black flank glistens in the gloaming light, and I stare at him, trying to mentally prepare myself for another night of riding.
Honestly, it’s not going well.
Gabriel left a few minutes ago to do gods only know what. Probably to commune with his panther since they seem attached at the hip. I didn’t ask, because I have bigger problems on my hands than keeping track of the Hunter. Namely, riding.
Chaos looks over at me, his brown eyes so dark, they’re nearly black. They narrow, as if he’s asking Are you ready for tonight?
The answer is a resounding no. I am definitely not, nor do I think I would be even if I had days to prepare.
The only good thing about riding—good being a relative term—is that it’s kept my mind off the constant waves of grief threatening to batter me like water against a shore. Grief for Amelia, Kadyn, and for my family, who I don’t think I’ll ever see again.
At least when I’m in pain, I’m not thinking about all the ways my life has irrevocably changed since my Giving Day. Even the clothes I’m wearing are different.
Gone is the green representing my status as a Given.
Instead, I’m wearing tight, curve-hugging black pants that guard against the cold, and a long black tunic that brushes the middle of my thighs as I walk.
The sleeves and hem are embroidered in silver thread, and the material feels far more expensive than anything I’ve ever worn.
Smooth and soft, it’s like wearing money.
My feet are kept warm in a pair of fur-lined boots, and the black cloak Maia sent is thick.
I look like I belong in the woods, not a temple, which was probably the objective.
Chaos whinnies, drawing my attention back to him.
“I’m sore all over,” I confess in a hushed whisper, running my hand down the steed’s midnight flank. His hair is soft and thick enough to keep him warm during the winter months.
Would riding hurt so much if I’d been taught how to do this when I was a child? I doubt it. Yet another thing I was denied because of my Mark.
A blue sheen coats the horse’s flank, and my forehead heats. I blow out a long breath, trying to force my Mark to cool. I’m not sure it works, but at least there aren’t any sparks dancing on my fingers.
“Do you think tonight will go better?” I ask Chaos, leaning my forehead against his side, letting his warmth seep into me.
It’s easier to talk to him than the Hunter. For one, the massive steed seems to like me. For another, we don’t share a complicated history.
Chaos snorts, which I’m choosing to interpret as Fuck, no.
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” Fishing the brush out of the saddlebag, I mimic the movements I’ve watched Gabriel do the past four nights and run it down the steed’s side in large circles. “Between you and me, I’m pretty sure the Hunter is made of stone.”
That would explain why Gabriel has no problem riding for days on end. Even with the scrape on his arm, which seems to be healing, his movements are easy. Effortless.
I’m so fucking jealous. Not only of the way Gabriel rides, although anyone would be. There is a strength in the way he lives his life, a sureness. He knows who he is, and he’s confident in it.
I aspire to have that kind of inner confidence one day.
“You know, it’s weird.” My voice is soft as I keep running the brush down the mount’s side. “The Hunter and I have fallen into an odd sort of rhythm.”
At night, he rides, and I try not to fall off the horse and die. When the twin suns start casting their rays across the horizon, we seek shelter.
Gabriel insists it isn’t safe for us to travel during the day, and considering he’s the professional and I’m the one with the glowing Mark, I haven’t argued with him about that.
Not only that, but the same pull that drew me towards Gabriel beneath the palace seems delighted every time he shows me a hint of kindness.
There hasn’t been a repeat performance of me falling off Chaos, mostly because Gabriel has insisted on helping me dismount every day since then.
And who am I to argue with a sturdy pair of hands helping me off a horse?
Especially with the way my body is aching.
When we stop for the day, it takes all my energy to eat a few bites and take care of my personal needs before I collapse into sleep.
I’m feeling stronger today than yesterday, though, and I hope that’s a good sign.
“I don’t trust Gabriel,” I confess on a sigh, needing to speak the words out loud to process them.
I’m not sure I will ever fully trust anyone again. There is something about seeing so much death and learning everything and everyone has been lying that has shattered my ability to rely on other people.