“I’m glad they got him to us in time. Vorix have fast-working venom,” Aymee said. James had been extremely lucky. Vorix — long-bodied, rough-skinned creatures that used several sets of short, clawed legs to climb trees — injected deadly venom with their breakaway fangs. Had it not been for James’s heavy-duty footwear, the fang would have been embedded in his foot and continued pumping poison into his bloodstream.
If the man had taken the bite anywhere else, he would have died. His screams of pain — which had only stopped when, exhausted and overwhelmed, he’d passed out — still echoed in Aymee’s mind.
Maris caught Aymee’s hand, gently bringing her to a halt. “You and your father saved my husband. I keep thinking about all thosewhat-ifs, and how I haven’t had nearly enough time with him, or how our child would have had to grow up without his father, and I… I just can’t imagine it.” She squeezed Aymee’s hand. “There’s nothing I can give you that would repay what you’ve done for him, but I can tell you this: take what you want. Take it all. Do not hesitate, because it could all be gone faster than you can blink.”
Aymee’s mind went to Macy. Macy, who hadn’t cared what others might’ve thought when she chose what she wanted — Jax.
Arkon’s face rose to the surface of Aymee’s thoughts, but she dismissed it. He was a fascination, a curiosity sparked by Macy’s stories about the kraken. There was no future for Aymee with Arkon, especially when he was unwilling to emerge from hiding.
She’d laugh at herself if it wouldn’t make her look insane; of all the men on Halora, the only one who held her interest so strongly wasn’t even human.
“Thank you, Maris.” Aymee gave the woman’s hand a comforting squeeze in return. “My father and I don’t want anything in return. It means everything that we were able to help him. But I’ll take your words to heart.”
Maris smiled and released her.
“We’d best hurry,” Jeanette said. They quickened their steps toward the town center.
The meeting hall was one of the largest buildings in The Watch. It served as a gathering place both for meetings and recreation; because resources were too precious to leave such a space unused, it doubled as a pub.
Dozens of people filed through the open doors, from beyond which the din of a hundred simultaneous conversations spilled out. Aymee kept beside her mother as they squeezed inside. She stood on her toes and searched until she spotted her father, who was waving his hand.
She tugged on her mother’s sleeve and motioned toward her father. Maris smiled and shooed them away, going to her own family.
The heat and noise of at least two hundred people was overwhelming. Aymee clung to her mother’s hand as they wove through the crowd, slowly working their way toward Kent. Whatever the meeting was about, the allure of newcomers had apparently piqued the town’s interest.
The crowd’s palpable curiosity did nothing to quell Aymee’s unease.
When they reached Kent, he leaned forward and kissed them each on the cheek. Aymee took his arm and leaned against him, turning her attention to the front of the room.
Several members of the town council were on the small stage, but it was the unfamiliar faces alongside them that caught Aymee’s eye. One of the strangers stood closer to the councilmen than the rest — a handsome man who looked to be in his early thirties with short, dark hair, a stern expression, and serious eyes. His gaze roved over the crowd as people funneled into the hall, but there was no restlessness in it, only alertness. His clothes were the deep purples and greens of the jungle, and he wore a large knife on his belt.
Six other rough-looking men in similar attire stood behind him.
Culver Hunters.
Though Aymee had never seen a Hunter before, their reputation was well-known in The Watch. The Hunters of Fort Culver fearlessly battled the most dangerous beasts on Halora and always came away the victors. They were said to travel from town to town, thinning out the populations of such creatures to keep people safe.
That they’d come here now, so soon after the events involving Jax and Macy, boded ill.
By the time the influx of townsfolk stopped, everyone was crammed into the hall shoulder-to-shoulder. Aymee had only seen the place so packed once before — the day Jax arrived. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her back as the air grew stuffy. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of unwashed bodies. Many of the townsfolk had likely just come in from the fields.
Walter Bailiff, the head councilman, stepped forward and raised his hands. A hush spread through the crowd, leaving only the occasional coughs or whispers.
“Thank you.” He ran a hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. His cheeks reddened; despite his aptitude for organization and mediation, Walter had never seemed comfortable speaking in front of crowds. “In light of…recent events, we have some visitors who’ve come to The Watch. I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth and explain it wrong, so…”
He stepped back, gesturing to the dark-haired man from Fort Culver. The stranger took Walter’s place at the front of the stage. Despite his serious features, his smile was warm.
“Let me echo Mr. Bailiff and thank all of you for coming on such short notice. My name is Randall Laster. Me and my men have come all the way from Fort Culver, and let me tell you, your town is paradise after that long on the road.”
Laughter filled the room.
“I think most folk call us Culver Hunters, or something along those lines. We call ourselves rangers, but that doesn’t matter much. It’s been a long time since any of us came this way, so I’d like to take a few moments to explain what it is we do, and why we’re here.”
“Excuse me,” someone muttered.
Aymee turned her head to see Macy’s father, Breckett Sinclair, carefully squeezing his broad-shouldered frame through the crowd. He stopped beside her, his mouth hidden in his thick beard.
“This can’t be good,” Aymee whispered to him.