Page 58 of An Archer's Reckoning

“I’ll just stay here and guard your pack. You never know who might be in these woods.”

I sent a trickle of amusement through our bond and rolled my eyes as I wrapped the heavy coat around my shoulders again, tossing the hood up before stepping out of the cave’s shelter. I scanned the area, but it was hard to tell where the dirt and stones of the mountain stopped and the tiny streams that normally bubbled down the slopes began. The blizzard had picked up. Snow slammed into me sideways, pelting me with bits of ice mixed with moist flakes. I couldn't see more than a few pacesahead, and after a moment of futile wandering, I returned to the cave empty-handed.

Órla flitted about, stacking stray limbs she’d found scattered about the grotto into a pile that was now more than a foot tall.

I stood dismayed.

“You didn’t bother looking in thedry, snowlesscavebefore you left.”

“Well, now I feel dumb.” I could barely move my frozen, cracked lips, but my eyes smiled as I joined in the search for more wood. Ten minutes later, we huddled around a small, crackling fire.

I couldn’t help thinking of Ayden and wishing he sat with us. He would likely have some jest teasing his lips, ready to make me feel less alone. We’d been apart a day this time, yet I already missed him.

I missed his smile. I missed his brassy hair. I missed his touch.

“You are thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Órla asked without any of her usual teasing.

“I . . . were you in my head again?”

“I’malwaysin your head. You should know that by now.” A warm chuckle traveled through our bond and shook my chest. “But it doesn’t take a spiritual connection to see that look on your face. You’re staring at the fire like you want to stick your tongue—”

“All right, I get it.” I shot her a glare, unable to keep a smile from parting my lips. She was too cute for her own good. “Fine, I miss him. Are you happy now?”

Her head cocked. I prepared myself for a jab, but her voice softened to a gentle touch. “I could never draw happiness from your sorrow. The love you share flows through our bond as brightly as your magic in your soul. I would never see you parted, if the Spirits allowed such for any man.”

I stared at my companion, my mouth open and ready to speak, but could not find words. There was such sincerity in her voice, such compassion. It flowed into me and wrapped me in her embrace.

“I do love him, Órla,” slipped out with a wispy breath. “I tried so hard to fight it, to resist what I knew grew inside me each time we spoke. How did he worm his way into my heart? How did he shatter the walls . . . I’d been alone for so long.”

The perky owl returned. “Bah! You have never been alone. You were just too stubborn and blind to see those around you.”

Despite my mood, I laughed. “Perhaps you are right.”

“As usual.”

I laughed again. “Yes, as usual, my little wise one.”

“Ooh, I like that. Can that be how you address me now?”

I buried my face in my hands. “Spirits, why me?”

“I have been asking that since I found you wandering in the woods.”

Unable to win the day—or any debate, ever—I reached over and scratched Órla’s feathery head and let her coo-purr sing me into drowsiness.

I dreamed of fiery hair and passionate kisses.

The blizzard finally petered out, and the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky when we resumed our journey the next morning. Snow piled up to my knees under the canopy of barren trees but rose above my head in places not shielded from the sky. I thanked Larinda throughout our trek, as the tunic and magical wine kept me warm. Órla settled for a few sips of wine and the warmth of my fluffy cloak.

“We should make it to Grove’s Pass by midday.”

Over our days of hiking, we hadn’t seen a single animal, and only a few birds who had apparently missed the call to migrate before winter set in.

Órla hopped out of my pack and flapped to rest on a nearby limb.

“Declan, stop. Look at this.”

“Shh.”I pressed a finger to my lips as I ran my other hand across the shaft of an arrow.“This isn’t Ranger fletching. Someone else was hunting up here, in the middle of winter, and from the tip on this arrow, they weren’t hunting game.”

---