Page 107 of Oath of Revenge

He shrugged as he slowly looked back and forth through the trees, alert to the danger that was the Feral Forest even in the protective bubble around the cottage. “Does the dragon have mages who can identify the thing? The Elders just called it an ice monster.”

She scoffed. “Does he have mages? What king doesn’t have mages these days?”

He arched a brow but didn’t respond, so she let it go. Still, it did make her worry about what else was out there. They remained on high alert as they set out for Hartsgrove. It was a grueling day. She strapped a pack to each of the Growlers’ backs, and they ran next to her on Rain. They reached the river, just a stream at this point in the forest, and made camp for the night.

Knox had set up a protective bubble at that exact spot for stops just like this one. The Growlers tried to outdo each other in hunting dinner, and they feasted on pheasant, squirrel, lynx, and boar. She snuggled into Wulfric’s arms while the other four Growlers all piled together on the other side of the fire.

The next morning, they set out at dawn at a steady pace. They fought assassin vines and ran from spiders, but it was all expected. One of the Growlers cried about the spiders, and the rest of them laughed about it after the fact, ribbing him.

When they stopped for a quick drink before they got too far into giant eagle territory, she got off Rain to use the bathroom. The others guarded the horse and litter while eating jerky as she stepped out of sight in the woods. Wulfric was too deep in conversation about war stories to follow her, thank the gods.

She’d just pulled her pants up when a sound to her right made her pause. Wulfric and the others were still to her left on the trail, just out of sight. She slipped around the trees to her right, daggers out as she stalked silently to the sound. The aura shone behind a tree, and she moved to flank it.

A figure stepped out from behind a tree with hands up, a bow in one. She rocked on the balls of her feet, but didn’t let down her guard. She could feel Wulfric’s presence moving closer.

“Striker,” she said softly.

“Huntress,” he said with a nod. “Do you need help with the Growlers?”

She straightened and arched a brow. “Seriously? You’ve been trailing us for a quarter of an hour. Does it look like I need help?”

He shrugged, lowering his arms. “What was I supposed to think?”

She pursed her lips and spun her dagger in one hand. His eyes watched it warily, but he didn’t move. She smiled softly, feeling the familiar pleasure of seeing someone realize how deadly she was.

“I’m fine. I’m escorting him to meet with the Feral King to broker a treaty. What news of Busparia?”

The man’s brows rose, the white scar on the side rising with it. “Busparia’s winter has gotten worse, but I’m sure you can tell. It’s worse here in the forest too.”

She tossed the dagger and caught it easily. “The Feral King is in Hartsgrove?”

He nodded, so she continued. “Take a message to the dwarves for me. Ask if they’ve figured out how to make the pocket mirrors work yet. They’ve had months, and the Growler will need to communicate with his tribe. The mirrors would be ideal. If they work, bring them to me at Hartsgrove within three days.”

“Aye, Huntress. As you wish.” He turned, but paused with a frown. “Are you sure—“

“Yes,” she said, daggers now held easily at her sides in each hand. She arched a brow. “You can stop in Vidrland and have the Guild Master meet me in Hartsgrove too.”

He sighed and nodded, then disappeared into the trees. She didn’t bother watching him leave. They were all trained to be shadows in any environment.

She walked back toward the trail and came out in front of Wulfric. He tugged his shirt down over his head before meeting her gaze.

“Who was that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Another Hunter.”

He tensed, so she continued. “He’s going to deliver some messages while we go talk to Knox. We should be there in a few hours, if you’re ready.”

He grunted and followed her as she mounted Rain. He’d probably overheard the entire conversation.

The trail took a circular path around the spider den and the flytraps, and soon they came to the eagle’s nest. She looked into the trees above with a frown.

“Something wrong, bunny?” Wulfric asked into the stillness.

Her stomach knotted. “We need to make it past the eagles, then we’ll reach the wall.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but the screech of an angry bird echoed in the frozen winter land. An icicle fell from a tree and crashed to the ground next to them, spooking the horse.

She murmured to Rain even as she tugged the horse to go faster. “Come on, we have to hurry. We can’t beat them all. Growlers, run!”

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