Page 93 of Ruled By The Alpha

“You are impossible, Nafia.”

“I know.” My mother and my father tell me often enough.

We hang in the trees smiling at each other, and then something catches Hensta’s eye.

“Look!” He points to the horizon behind me, and I twist my head to find a trail of smoke rising into the air.

“It must be our people.”

Hensta stares that way. Finally, he nods. “Yes, it is them.”

We hurry down the tree as quickly as we can, and retrieving my spear, set off toward the south.

Chapter 5

Now I know we are not lost, my mood lightens, and I chat merrily alongside Hensta as we walk. In fact, I am so relieved I almost skip, all thoughts of last night’s confessions and attack forgotten. Hensta nods and occasionally grunts, but I know he is listening as I tell him the gossip from my sisters, how I have been practicing throwing my spear with increasing accuracy, and the meat I hope to eat when we reach our people.

We are so absorbed in each other that we almost miss the tiny object half-buried in the ground, gleaming golden in the sun. I twist the blade of my spear in the dirt and flick it upwards, Hensta grabbing it from the air with his fist. He uncurls his fingers, and we look at it as we continue to walk: a small disc with faint markings stamped across its surface resting in his palm.

“It is a shield from the fae people,” Hensta says. “This is a good sign, Nafia.” Objects from the fae hold power and will bring us luck. Perhaps the tiny people are watching over us.

The sun has climbed high in the sky when we spot a stream winking at us in the near distance and divert to fill our flasks.

When we reach the water, I run down to the bank and fall to my knees, scooping handfuls of the cool liquid to my mouth and slurping it down.

They say that even the water was undrinkable at the end of days. That you could not taste it for fear of falling sick. I thank Mother Earth that it runs clear once again.

To my left, I hear Hensta splash in the water, and I think he is doing the same as me, but when I rock onto my backside, I see he has waded in.

“There may be creatures,” I warn him.

He shakes his head and sinks lower. “It is too shallow.” He leans back his head, and his dark hair fans out in the water around him as he closes his eyes and lets his arms drift.

I should scold him for delaying us, but the water is good for his wound, and though he won’t admit it, I know this is the reason he chooses to bathe.

I creep my toes to the edge of the water and wriggle them in the cool liquid. It does feel good. I am hot and sticky, and I smell strongly of the fire and the ground on which I slept. The water twinkles in the light and I desperately want to sink in too.

“Will you not wash?” Hensta asks me, squinting against the sun.

I peer at his bare torso, his hides abandoned on the bank. “No,” I say.

He drives his hand through the water and sends a cascade my way, hitting my arms and my legs.

“But you smell bad, Nafia.”

“I do not.”

He sends another wave my direction before I have a chance to move, and I’m now so wet I may as well get in.

“Turn your back then,” I instruct. My hide will be ruined if it soaks in the water, too heavy to wear again. If I want to bathe, I will have to do so naked.

The other alphas would cross their arms and shake their heads, refuse my order, or they’d leer at me and lick their lips. Hensta simply turns, and I strip quickly, racing into the water and crouching so that my modesty is protected up to my neck.

Hensta twists back around.

“How is your shoulder?” I ask.

He peers down at the dried mush of leaves. “It is fine.”

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