Chapter 5 #3
“They might be brutes, Wren, but they are still Ravens. Along with their cruelty, they are intelligent and shrewd,” Father had stated to me. “Never underestimate them.”
By the time my captor returned, snow blanketed his shoulders and sprinkled through his dark short hair, and his cheeks were bright red from the cold.
The snowfall frayed the threads of hope I was still holding onto, understanding that every minute our tracks were being hidden, making it harder for the king’s soldiers to find us here.
Not that they couldn’t. My father had the best trackers in the world, but only if they were looking in the right place.
The thrall held the axe in one hand and a long tree limb in the other. Shaking off the flakes, his attention once again jumped to me. I kept my lids half-masted, pretending to be asleep, watching him through my lashes.
He pulled one of the chairs to the window.
Sitting down, he yanked out the same blade he ate with and started whittling the end of the stick into a sharp spear, adding another weapon to his collection.
He kept the axe on his lap, his gaze constantly darting between me and the world outside the quiet cabin, stopping every once in a while to listen to the sounds outside.
The whisper of snow, the silence of the forest sank into the space. The adrenaline my body had been running on was being overtaken by exhaustion, my system demanding my mind to shut down. My lids no longer able to fight, they drifted closed, allowing nightmares to strike.
“Wren . . .” Sarina’s hand reached for me, her lips parting in a scream, blood pooling out of her mouth, splashing onto the white rug, soaking it with her life.
“Sarina!” I screamed, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t reach her as her body fell to the floor in a pile of bones and flesh. “No! Sarina!” I fought against the invisible force holding me back.
She lay on the rug, her eyes closed, her throat gaping open.
“Sarina?” I could feel myself whimper; the grief cutting into me like a broad sword. “Please . . .”
Her closed eyes popped open, jerking me back.
“You . . .” Her eyes blazed with anger and blame. “You were supposed to save me. You let me die!”
I jolted awake with a cry, my arms yanking against their bonds, grasping for air, taking a moment to realize the wail was not my own.
Blinking, the raw pain and guilt shredded through me, my heart thumping wildly.
The ache in every muscle, the dimness of the small cabin, sent bile up my throat, transforming my nightmare into reality.
“No! Stop!” The Northerner wrenched in the chair feet from me, his shout freezing me in place. My system flooded with panic as he leaped up, the wooden spear hitting the floor with a clank. His chest heaved in and out, the axe swinging, while his eyes darted around in confusion.
Nothing came breaking into the cabin, nothing but silence arose from outside.
His head jerked to me, his penetrating eyes finding mine, seeing if I had witnessed whatever just happened.
It was so fast I was sure I imagined the sorrow in his gaze before fury curled his lip.
Hatred flashed through him. In less than a stride he was in front of me, the axe pressing into my neck.
My muscles clenched at the sudden assault, adrenaline kicking back into my veins.
“Even though I have to keep you alive for now . . .” He gripped my chin with his free hand, pressing down on the bone.
“You are at my mercy, kanin. And know that with every breath, I fight the impulse to slice your throat and watch you die.” He swallowed roughly.
“Your people murdered my friend. He was a brother to me. I lost the files we needed. So, at any point, I might just give in to that temptation.”
I didn’t doubt his claim. I could feel the truth vibrate from him.
Lowering the knife from my throat, he reached up and hacked at the rope fastening me to the hook.
“It’s time to go,” he snapped, tugging me with him toward the door.
He packed up the extra food in a cloth, securing it to a belt loop on my dress.
He peered back at me, attaching his wood spear to his back.
“You fight me and the first thing that goes is your hair.” I couldn’t stop the gasp at his comment.
It wasn’t just vanity. My silver hair was a symbol of my status. “After that I start on fingers.”
He pulled me outside, my thin cloth shoes sinking into the fresh snow. Every part of me wanted to sag down to the ground and give up. I wasn’t raised to surrender. I was trained to fight until my last breath. And even if it was the last thing I did, I would revenge Sarina.
The promise to myself I’d eventually kill him drove my feet forward through the ice.
“Opportunity is everywhere. The difference between succeeding and failing is learning to recognize when to seize it.” Yanric’s voice again.
It was time to change my tactic. Learn my enemy. Wait for a moment when he let his guard down to strike.
Bask in the delight when his blood painted the ground.