Chapter Five #2
God, with all the chaos of the evening I didn’t realise how fucking tired I am.
The bed frame creaks as I sink back onto the mattress and curl onto my side, watching Ezzy across from me. But soon my eyes grow heavy and before I can stop it sleep drags me under.
Smoke.
At first it’s subtle enough that I almost ignore it, let the smell blur into whatever dream I was sinking through. But then I inhale again—and it’s still there. Thicker now. Closer. Coating the back of my throat, dry and familiar.
Something's on fire.
Shit!
My eyes snap open, pulse kicking hard as I jerk upright, scanning the room—too fast, too blind, chasing the source. Everything’s smeared with sleep, edges dragging, until I feel the heat and my gaze drops, catching the brief flicker of orange at the ends of my hair.
“What the—”
Smacking at it, my hands move fast, crushing the flames between my palms before they can catch. The singe bites my skin, the smell turning bitter as the last ember dies under my fingers.
My heart’s still racing, but when I look up, I freeze.
Ahria’s perched square on my stomach, her tiny but razor sharp claws digging lightly into my nightdress, and her violet-rimmed eyes are bright as a thin ribbon of smoke curls lazily from her jaws.
“What the hell, Ahria!” I snap, a bit too loud.
But she doesn’t seem to care. Instead, her body puffs up with satisfaction as she spreads her wings, takes flight, and heads for the tent opening, where bright morning sunlight pours through.
Well, I guess I never need to worry about oversleeping anymore.
Pulling in a slow breath, I force the spike of irritation down. I need her to like me and she’s probably just hungry. Can't blame her, so am I.
Still, did she have to burn my hair…?
With a low groan, I drag a hand over my face. God, I hardly slept. The bed was rock-solid, impossible to sink into, and every time I managed to find a position close to comfortable, my mind jolted awake again.
Even the constant crack of canvas in the wind and the distant rumble of avalanches did nothing to cover the thoughts running through my head.
Rubbing the remaining sleep out of my eyes, I turn to the bed beside me.
Ezzy is as she was, peacefully resting on her back with Rowan's note and Finn’s duck beside her.
Watching her breathe, a dull ache starts to gather behind my chest and my hands ball around the rough woollen blanket as memories flash through my mind.
But I swallow it back and stand.
I can’t think about all that right now. Right now, I need to stay in control, show Ahria how strong I am, and figure out why the hell I’m here without becoming anyone else’s pawn.
But first, breakfast.
Pushing myself up, I throw on some of the borrowed clothes in my pack.
They’re plain, like what I used to wear in Ashvale, except not as tattered.
No idea who they belong to, but they smell faintly of freshly baked bread.
Beneath that, though, something else drifts through the air. Leather, smoke. Talen.
The scent pulls my attention to the chair beside me, where his jacket lies in a dark heap, and I can’t help noticing the indentation in the worn leather where Ahria slept all night.
Well, at least I know she’s capable of liking someone…
Rolling my eyes, I leave the jacket and my pack where they are, then follow Ahria outside and head for the wash tent next door to check the damage from her fiery wake-up call. Luckily, it’s not much, and it’s easy enough to hide once I pull my wild red curls back into a messy bun.
Giving myself one last look, I decide that’s as good as it’s going to get, and then push through the canvas flap and step back outside to the camp, which is already wide awake around me.
Canvas flaps in the morning breeze as people cut between open tents in busy, purposeful bursts. Somewhere to my left a sharp clang of metal rings out followed by a ripple of laughter.
Tracking the sounds, I scan the makeshift settlement as it stretches out in front of me. It’s much larger than it seemed in the dark last night—and much closer to the Southern Peaks.
The tents sit tucked against the base of the Southern Peaks, which rise straight ahead—towering and absolute.
Heavy sheets of ice tear down their faces, melting into narrow rivers that snake around the outskirts of the camp, out into scrubland, and across a wide-open plain before meeting at the lake.
Along their banks, dry grass rolls out in every direction, the summer heat baking everything gold. But it’s only the surface. Beneath it, colour holds—greens pushing through in thick patches, stubborn and alive. Nothing like Ashvale, where everything is dust or dead.
I turn on the spot, taking it all in—then the smell hits. Warm bread with a rich and meaty scent beneath it. My stomach rumbles, loud enough to hear.
“Right, which way is the Food Tent ?” I ask, tipping my head toward Ahria, who’s perched on a lantern post beside me, grooming her wings. She doesn’t look up. “I thought you were hungry?” I grumble. Still nothing. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll find it alone.”
Trying to follow the smell, I start walking, but a familiar voice rings out behind me, and every hair on my arms lifts.
“The Food Tent is at the centre.” Merrin smiles as I turn to face him, his icy-blue eyes bright against his white hair. “But I thought you might like to take a short walk with me first?”