Page 33 of Bounty Hunter

We stop for water at a tiny stream. The small streams, creeks, and pools are the only safe water to drink nowadays. The Lucent River is never used for its water anymore since it’s been overtaken by gloam. When I lift my waterskin to my lips, I pause. I push my magic out, searching. I take a quick drink before throwing it in my pack and scanning the forest around us. It’s quiet, but not in a peaceful way. My magic tells me there is gloam—there’s always gloam, small bits that haven’t conglomerated and created a monster yet, but what I sense isn’t gloam. It’s also not friendly.

“Something follows us,” I say quietly. Ikar frowns at the cuff on his wrist, and I’m sure he’s cursing it. It makes me wonder what kind of magic he has. Mercenaries and soldiers are usually hunters, and hunter magic would have sensed it even before mine. I assume he’s a hunter, then, based on his reaction.

“What is it?”

I shrug, and he frowns deeper. Another thing his possible hunter magic could have helped with. I resist the urge to apologize. Bounty hunters don’t apologize to their bounties for blocking their magic. We continue on our way, but Ikar scans and listens, and we move much more quietly now. I catch a glimpse of its black, lithe body here and there, so quick it could be mistaken for a shadow. Ikar is the first to identify it.

“Bantha,” he says under his breath.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen a bantha in all your extensive bounty hunts?” He raises an eyebrow, a sarcastic tone now underlying his words.

I don’t like it, but what can I expect after the way I’ve treated him today? Anyway, it’s good, right?Distance.

“Like I said last night, I’m not ahunter. I assist.” And if I were to be completely honest, I’d tell him I usually choose jobs that are closer to home than this and there aren’t banthas in those areas.

“It’s a really big black cat with leathery wings, sharp claws, and teeth. And it’s a relentless tracker.”

“Is that all?” My voice is sarcastic, but my anxiety jumps up to the next level. I find I’ve suddenly had a change of heart, and I don’t mind if he hangs a little closer. Maybe I should pull that map out and offer a look now. I settle for walking beside him instead of ahead as I scold myself for my fear and set myself right.

We continue to spot it as we walk, never close enough to attack, but never losing it, either. It’s just always there, on the edge of our peripheral. Lingering and creepy and silent. Like the figures I keep seeing at random times.

I think for sure it will pounce or fly or whatever a bantha does to kill its prey. I try not to imagine what killing its prey looks like. I stop thinking about it since I’m sure that’s the opposite of helpful, but hours later we are still waiting for it to make its move, and my nerves are fried. I’m used to traversing the woods during my hunting contracts, but I’ve never been tracked by a bantha. I won’t deny that I sidle up a little closer to Ikar as the sunlight begins to fade and the shadows grow long beneath the tree tops. Close enough that my shoulder brushes his arm every so often. I have enough sense to maintain my dignity, and I refrain from wrapping my hand around it and clinging to his bicep, although I’ll admit the idea is tempting for much more than just safety.

“Do you think it’s still there?” I whisper, bumping myshoulder into his bicep for the millionth time because I walk too close.

He lets out a sigh. “Yes. Until it attacks, it will be there. Banthas don’t give up prey.”

“You say that like you’re familiar with them.”

“I am,” he says dryly.

“You’ve fought one?”

He ignores my question. “Do not let it stab or bite you. Both its claws and fangs contain venom and detach. Just, stay back,” he orders in an exasperated tone.

Great. Venomous, detachable fangs and claws. Thick leather wings, and a huge cat. But the tiny part of me that’s unrealistically optimistic is still hoping the bantha gets bored and leaves us alone. Most forest animals have a natural, friendly draw toward me, one of the benefits of Tulip magic that has been particularly difficult to hide from Ikar. Pretty sure that same squirrel Ikar spotted has been scurrying just out of sight since the Black Canyon. It better stay away, or it’ll be dead and cooked over the fire like the rabbit. But that same magic doesn’t apply to the gloam creatures, the ones that have seemingly multiplied in the last two years. In the past, enchanted weapons could easily kill them, and there weren’t many. It was rare to happen across one then. Now, it’s guaranteed you’ll see one of them if you travel any distance. Which is why I usually don’t.

I need a distraction. My eyes turn to Ikar, like the traitors they are. “Where is home for you?”

He seems to consider whether he’ll answer my question for a moment, then he finally speaks. But there’s none of the open friendliness I heard yesterday, today his voice is terse. “High Kingdom.”

My brows raise in surprise. Not many criminals brave the High Kingdom, since it’s heavily patrolled and safeguarded.

“What keeps you there? I ask, genuinely curious and very surprised.

“Work.”

The conversation stops there, partly because it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want to converse with me.Still not apologizing. I press my lips together. It’s not just that, though. He’s completely focused on listening and watching. And eventually, he stops.

“We can’t out-travel it.” He glances watchfully into the gathering darkness. “I prefer to fight it with some light left. We’ll stop here and hope it attacks soon. But it’ll probably wait until dark anyway.”

I almost wheeze.Hope it attacks soon?Spoken like a true mercenary, or criminal, or whatever he is. Personally, I’m more in thelet’s run for itmood. I stare deep into the shadows of the forest. I don’t like that I don’t know what to believe about the man. He has defended himself from the start, and I would think by now he’d admit that he didsomething. Most criminals have an odd sense of pride about their criminal accomplishments, yet Ikar has mentioned nothing. I eye him as he removes his cloak, sets his pack down, and begins gathering wood and bunches of dry grass to build a fire. His leather armor is like a thick vest, he wears a shirt beneath that covers his arms, and bracers protect his forearms. He’s certainly built like some sort of fighter. It’s much too easy to appreciate the strong line of his broad shoulders, and the way his waist tapers hints at a muscled torso. I can easily see the strength of his arms move through the fabric of his shirt as he places the sticks and efficiently brings a flame to life.

I realize now, that never have I found fire buildingso enjoyable to watch. He glances up at me as he stands, brushing his hands off, and I look away, embarrassed for being caught staring. Then I catch a glimpse of the shadows around us again and remember we’re being stalked by a creature of death and I shouldn’t be getting distracted by the handsome criminal I’ve arrested. My traitorous gaze goes back to him anyway. I feel a niggle as my intuition persuades me to believe he’s a just a regular guy. I mentally snort. This guy is far from regular. Maybe a soldier? Not sure that would be better. I don’t work with anyone who works for the kings, even soldiers. Doesn’t matter, though, I shouldn’t want him to be a good person because Ineedthe money I’ll earn from the reward of his capture.

We sit by the fire after we finish our meal, him looking entirely too calm and relaxed. And me, wound up like an anxious spring. I’m almost afraid to talk, worried I’ll miss the forest sounds that indicate the bantha is about to attack. Around us, though, I hear the titters and shuffles of nighttime creatures, most harmless, others apparently uninterested. I can only hope they stay that way. Rupi, unconcerned with the fact we will be attacked at any moment, hops around in the dirt and sparse grass, contentedly pecking for bugs and seeds.

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