Page 38 of In Darkness Forged

Had this been the whole point? Distract her companions so they could kill the human? But to what end?

Suddenly her lungs opened, and Aislin was able to draw in a single gasping breath. Her muscles once more obeyed her commands, so she clenched her right hand into a fist and punched the lynx right in its tufted ear. When it winced in pain, she fastened her fingers around its furry throat.

The beast squalled in fury, or tried, and then its eyes changed. Bent no longer on hunting, its intent suddenly turned to murder, and Aislin let out a single, unintentional yelp of fear.

The weight on her chest vanished. Cuan held the struggling lynx by the skin on the back of its neck, like a misbehaving pup. He shook it once, but then she could no longer see him because her vision was filled with the looming bulk of averyangry night elf.

“Mother of Shadows,” he snarled as she struggled to a sitting position, “can you not stay alive for a single minute?”

He had just dropped to one knee beside her when Aislin saw the shadow behind him.

“Look out!” she yelped, and threw herself forward, knocking him sideways just as a dagger sliced through the air to bury itself in the dirt, inches from where she’d just lain.

She only thought he’d been angry before.

Those furious amber eyes went molten hot, and a wave of power erupted outward to slam into every other occupant of that little clearing.

Even Cuan flattened his ears and whined as it rippled over him, but the others were thrown off their feet—battered and tumbled to the edge of the trees by the force of the blow.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Cuan shook himself like a wet dog, and the other night elves regained their feet. But no one made any move to attack.

“Are we done here?” Aislin’s companion said, and it was less a question than a statement of absolute certainty.

If they attacked again, he would end them.

Aislin didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t for the leader of their assailants to burst out laughing and sheath his weapons with the jaunty air of a man who’d just enjoyed a night of drinking with his friends at the local tavern.

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect that,” he said, the curve of his grin clearly visible in the growing light of dawn. “But we haven’t had that much fun in months, so I must thank you for the exercise.”

Aislin’s jaw dropped without her permission.

“I’m Rhone,” he continued, striding forward until he regarded them from only a few paces away. “My friends and I hunt these woods to eliminate threats before they grow too large for the settlements to ignore.”

Aislin’s companion rose to his feet and almost absently offered his hand to assist her. She took it, only to be shoved slightly behind his back as soon as she gained her feet.

“I’ve never heard of wildings choosing to hunt together,” he said coldly.

“We may not fit with others of our kind, but their rejection does not determine our fate,” the other night elf said mildly. “Do you have a name you would choose to share?”

For a moment, Aislin was sure her companion would not answer. But the glow in his eyes dimmed slightly as he regarded Rhone, and then he uttered it, almost grudgingly.

“Danael.”

Something about that sounded oddly wrong to Aislin, but Rhone simply nodded.

“Then, Danael, what causes such a strange trio to brave the forest so near the Darkspring?”

The answering silence proclaimed it none of their business more clearly than words ever could, but something about the quality of that silence seemed to speak volumes to Rhone.

“The caves?” he said incredulously. “You intend to take a human into the caves?”

“If the human chooses to be a fool, then who am I to stop her?”

“I suppose I should tell you,” Rhone continued casually, “that we, too, intend to plumb the depths of the Darkspring.”

Aislin could see her companion was startled by the news. “And you call me strange?”

Rhone shrugged. “The reward offered seemed worth the risk.”

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