Page 52 of The Cursed Crown

"Or that. That's good, too." Her branch lowered her to Khal and Teoran's level. She rushed to undo the fine rope binding their wrists.

"All right, what the hell is that?" Teoran's voice was three octaves above his usual tone, and he stared at the tree like it was going to eat him alive.

Which, to be fair, it might.

"Another time?" Rissa suggested. "We'd better scamper."

They might have taken them by surprise, but if these five warriors had managed to incapacitate both Teoran and Khal, she wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

"The horses!" Teoran hissed. They were on the other side of the barrier of branches.

"We have to go," she repeated.

Their choices were attacking or fleeing, and she didn't like the idea of making the local folk their enemy before they'd even reached their destination.

Khal was with her on this; he nodded, before leading the way, setting off at a jog.

Rissa bent down to pick up a handful of acorns she stuffed in her pocket, before joining them.

They left the screams of their attackers behind—the tree must have kept on thrashing at them. But for how long? These people would be on their trail, eventually. Without the horses, they had little chance of outrunning them on their territory.

Were they even still going the right way?

They reached a rift valley, so sharp the trench underneath seemed hundreds of miles down.

Crap. What now?

"There's a bridge down here," Khal said, pointing to his left.

Rissa turned to Teoran. He was panting, bent down over his knees, hands on his legs. Endurance mustn't be his strongest trait. "Wouldn't that take us too far from where we're supposed to go? That's leading west, right?"

He looked up. Sweat was pouring down his hairline, making his skin shimmer. Rissa grabbed the bota bag she kept in her red satchel and handed it to him. They were going to have to ration water and food. Most of their supplies had been with the horses.

Teoran wasn't on the same wavelength; he drank like he was moments away from dying of thirst.

"What happened?" she asked, glancing back. "I wasn't up there for long, but when I came back down—"

"They were waiting for you to go," Khal guessed. "They attacked us right after you disappeared up in the tree. How did you do that? Make the tree move."

Teoran handed her what was left of her water; she gave it to Khal, who took one sip before handing it back.

"I didn't make it do anything. It wanted to. I think it liked the company. People mustn't pay attention to it often, and it has a consciousness. It craved a connection."

Teoran snorted. "Rissa. It's a tree."

She shrugged. "Well, that tree saved your skin."

Rissa glanced back to the line of trees they'd just left, and turned to the rift, an insane thought flirting at the edge of her mind. She bit her lip. It probably was impossible. But what would it cost to try?

"We have to move," Khal said.

He wasn't wrong, but first, she wanted to give her idea a try.

"Two seconds." Rissa ran back to the closest tree, and placed her gloveless hand on its trunk.

At first, there was nothing at all. She almost removed it. Then she felt a small tinge of awareness burn under her skin. This one was also alive. Younger, it had far less character than Rissa's latest friend, and she could feel a surly, carefree outlook. She glanced up. This tree was barely two meters tall—a baby.

This wasn't going to be easy.

---