Page 95 of Ruled By The Alpha

But the snaps of wings overhead startles us both, and I jump away, my cheeks hot and my pulse racing.

Hensta acts as if he doesn’t notice, holding out his hand to me. “Come on, Nafia. This way.”

I take his hand and let him lead me through the shell of the camp and out onto the plains. Footprints mark the ground, and the grass lies trampled. The trail will be easy to follow, and the tightness around my chest loosens.

Still, I don’t release his hand, and he does not let go of mine. We walk together hand in hand silently, and my skin seems to buzz where his meets mine, the sensation traveling straight up my arm and warming my chest.

Hensta—my childhood friend—once scrawny and small, now tall and strong and handsome. A good huntsman. Brave, but kind.

His thumb skims across my knuckles, and his fingers press mine and my heart skips in my chest.

I peer across at him. The lowering sun frames his face and bathes it in a warmth that makes his dark eyes brighten. I wantto pull him closer, rest my cheek upon his chest again, but I daren’t break this strange magic.

I know he wants more from me.

But to hold hands is enough.

Chapter 7

Although our pace is slower than it was, I know it is still quicker than our people, who have children and the elders to consider. However, darkness starts to fall before we have caught up with them.

As the sky darkens, a wound appears in the landscape in front of us, a gash that stretches from the horizon at the south to the horizon at the north, as straight as an arrow. We draw closer, and soon it becomes clear the slash in the earth has not been crafted by the Mother’s hand, but by that of the ancients. We are closer to the ruins than we thought. Why have our people wandered so close? Are they searching for us?

Cautiously, we walk closer and find the ground has not cracked, but been covered in a hard surface. Once it must have stretched faultless and smooth across the land, providing a clear and easy pathway through the tangle of the grasses and the trees. However, the ancients left this place many, many seasons ago, and Mother Earth—as she has everywhere—has reclaimed what once was hers. The hard surface has cracked, and through the fissures plants have sprouted, crawling over the surface. Soon it will be swallowed up in the green of the land and vanish from sight forever.

We step over what the ancients have left behind, our eyes flicking along the pathway.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” I ask Hensta.

“Once, when I was young,” he says quietly. “The elders said it led to the belly of the ruins.”

I nod, squeezing his hand more tightly. Are there others close by? We are both thinking it, but the wind carries the scents of no strangers.

The sun sinks lower, the sky bleeding red.

“Our people will be camping for the night,” I say. “We should keep walking. It is our chance to catch up with them.”

“Walking through the dark is too dangerous, Nafia.”

I sigh, knowing he is right. There are the night hunters, and perhaps other people, and we don’t have the sun to guide us. Plus it will be more difficult for Hensta to track in the dark.

We walk a little farther, searching the landscape for somewhere safe to make camp. Our encounter with the cat last night, and the strange pathway, has left us both less willing to sleep out in the open.

Eventually I spot some rocks in the face of a hill, and when we go to explore, we find a narrow opening and a small cave. We can hunker down inside, building a fire at the entrance to keep other creatures at bay.

Just like the night before, we set to work, me building a fire and Hensta searching for food. He returns with a wide grin on his face, a small animal slung over his shoulder.

Meat. My stomach growls obscenely at the sight, and Hensta huffs a laugh that rumbles in his chest. “Hungry?”

“Very!”

He seats himself on the ground and guts the carcass while I build up the fire, cutting up the meat and scouring it on the end of his blade. Then he cooks it in the fire. The aroma makes my stomach moan even louder, and he tugs the first piece off and offers it to me.

“You caught it. You should have first piece.”

“Take it, Nafia,” he says, brokering no argument, and I can’t help snatching it and tearing at it with my teeth. The sensationas I swallow and my stomach fills sends another moan from my lips, deeper and louder this time as my eyelids flutter shut.

“Good?” Hensta asks, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

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