Page 67 of The Princesses of Ruin
We cover the firepit with dirt, letting the buried embers warm our tent without fear of them killing us in the night. And then, we stare at the backs of our eyelids. I know he’s not asleep. I can hear his pounding heart and the way he swallows back things he wants to say. The pitch of the storm creates a loud enough ambiance to block him out, and finally I fall into a fitful sleep.
I want to make a joke about cleaning the crusty cum from his pants when we wake in the morning but…I can’t. It would either be too cruel, or too inviting. It’s best if we just pretend this never happened. He seems to come to that same conclusion and we pack in silence.
Our snares have caught another two arctic rabbits and a shrew that I tie to my bag. They’re frozen stiff, so I’ll need to warm them up before they can be gutted and skinned.
We trudge deeper into the forest, the minimal light getting even thinner with the growing size of the trees. The oppressive darkness of the pines gives us shelter from the wind, though, and that is a blessing. I can hear farther, and I know where to start looking for the wolves I heard last night.
It takes us several breaks, but we get to a clearing in the thicket where we can make camp. With very little conversation, we get thetent set up and then tend to our separate tasks. I set snares, he digs for tubers, and we meet back at the tent.
Adrik gasps when he sees me, then points above my head. Greens and pinks splatter the snowcapped mountains beyond the trees, and I realize it’s not colorful noise, but an aurora. The sky is alive with soundless light and glittering stars.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of these,” I murmur.
“How long?” he asks.
“When I was eleven, my father took me farther north than most Wols dare to go. He had an explorer’s heart, something he passed on to me…”
Fuck, what am I doing?
“It’s been nearly twenty years,” he whispers.
I turn and look at him. His gaze is pinned on the sky, unwavering and enamored. I shouldn’t ask him more. I shouldn’t let him spill his guts to me.
But I want to know. I want to know him.
“Why did you leave?”
His jaw tightens and he tears his eyes away from the aurora. “We should get in and start dinner.”
Without another word, or even a backward glance at me or the sky, he heads inside. The possible answer to my question tickles my brain all night. And all the next morning. Why did he leave Seter? He’s an accomplished alchemist. Fuck, even a goddess said so.
But it was nearly twenty years he’d been gone. He would’ve been in his early teens, and not an accomplished alchemist yet. Why would a young man be leaving his home? Seter is a harsh place, but it’s not without its boons. There are several renowned magical schools, incredible tutoring programs, and more.
We begin our hike with these thoughts roiling through my head, creating enough noise for me to not miss his voice so much. The forest turns treacherous as we make the hilly climb toward the base of the mountain. We break much more frequently until finally, I spot it.
My heart hammers as I spread my hand and compare it to the wolf track. The track is bigger by a good two inches. The beast must be at least five hundred pounds.
Over my shoulder, Adrik goes on a long string of whispered curses in Seterian.
I never doubted my ability to track the wolf, but to hunt it…
“Let’s head back down a mile or so,” I whisper.
It won’t get us out of the wolves’ territory, but it’ll give us the space to not be scented right away.
“We need to cover our tracks,” he says as he pulls a potion from his side satchel.
The wind kicks snow over the tracks, and Adrik sprays his black potion into the swirling gale. The perfume-like applicator makes it easy to spread the scent, though I’m not certain what it is. It covers the snow in black and settles, soaking it through.
We trek down the hill and Adrik sprays the solution several times in our tracks. We move single file to make it easier, and I keep my hand on the butt of my pistol. There’s no sign of the wolf that my magus ability can detect, but ifit’shuntingus, there’s wouldn’t be.
It would observe us from a distance, sneaking through the trees at a great enough distance that we couldn’t scent it. The wolf doesn’t know our feeble noses can’t detect much at all, so it’ll follow instinct.
We find a very cramped copse of trees to set camp for the night, and get it erected quickly.
“I need two of the hares,” Adrik says when we’ve finished rolling out our beds.
I throw him the coneys and he snaps open his alchemist bag. Inside is a protected vial of silvery liquid. He grabs a syringe and pulls some of the tincture in with the plunger.
