Page 13 of Held

Flying in a Skullstalker’s arms was by far Briar’s favorite near-death experience.

Even with the ground looming a deadly distance away and a literal monster breathing down her neck, she couldn’t help the wild grin that spread over her face, which ached after what must have been at least an hour in the air.

They were covering so much ground! At this rate, they would make it to Marigold’s cottage indays, not weeks.

“Woo-hoo,” Briar yelled, the noise getting caught in the cool spring wind. “I’mflying!”

“You keep yelling that,” Wick said. Then he sniffed her. “You smell strange. Fearful, but also very happy.”

Briar twisted to stare at him. His fiery eyes were fixed on the trees below, scanning for gods knew what.

“You cansmellthat?” Briar demanded.

Wick made a distracted rumbling noise. Then he blinked, his fiery eyes fixing on her. Not for the first time, Briar was astounded by them. Not just the flames, but the fact that there was no danger in them. She had been looked at with malice so often that it was strange to be under his soft, curious gaze.

“I have a keen nose,” was all he said.

Briar huffed a laugh into his chest, hoping he couldn’t smell her worries. She based her entire life around tricking people; she couldn’t have some monster sniffing her out.

“Is that a Skullstalker thing?” she asked.

He made another rumbling noise. He sounded like an old dog, and Briar had to fight back a shocking wave of affection. This wasn’t a cute old spaniel sitting at the back of a tea shop. This was aSkullstalker. Even if he was helping her, he was still a monster. If she didn’t have Marigold’s amulet, he would have ripped her to shreds last night.

Her stomach gurgled. She grimaced. That egg hadn’t lasted very long. It didn’t help that she hadn’t had dinner last night.

Wick frowned. “You are hungry again?”

“I can last,” she assured him.

But Wick was already flying down toward the trees.

“IsaidI can last,” she complained as they headed for the treetops.

“My wings are growing tired,” Wick said. “This will be a welcome rest.”

Briar narrowed her eyes as he weaved through the trees with surprising delicateness and landed gently on the ground, still holding her like he didn’t quite know what to do next.

“What will you eat?” he asked. “I can find another bird nest. I will be more careful with the eggs this time.”

“Thanks,” she said, easing herself out of his grip and landing on her feet. “But I was thinking of something more substantial.”

“Substantial?”

Briar looked around, considering. There was enough around for her to construct a shoddy trap.

“Like a squirrel,” she started.

Wick nodded determinedly and took off.

“Wait,” she called after him. “I didn’t mean?—”

But he was already flying off, looking determinedly through the trees.

“—you,” she finished.

Wick ignored her. He hovered in midair for a moment, then sped up a tree so fast that Briar jumped. There was an animal shriek and a smallpop, and Wick turned to her with a dead squirrel hanging from his claws.

“Found one,” he announced.

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