Page 37 of Winter's Edge
But I didn't have Archer. Not yet. I just had me. That had to be enough.
My feet hit a sharp incline, and I thought it was the hill I'd come in on because of the angle I had been going. But I soon realized that this part of the hill had giant boulders carved into it, too big for me to even think about climbing.
Shit.
I wasted precious seconds and retreated a few steps to find a new path.
The sound of my pursuers grew louder, with more legs, heavier pants. Wolves. Some of them had shifted. They were maybe three hundred yards behind me and closing in fast.
I would never be able to outrun them. Just like in the Crimson Forest, I would be ripped apart in the Slipjoint Forest. The icy hands of defeatwrapped around my neck from behind and squeezed. Still, I kept going, shrugging those hands away.
A soulful howl ripped through the night. I gasped. It sounded like it was everywhere.
Snarling growls sounded from behind me, and then the wolves veered off in another direction.
Archer. Had that been him?
I sped my pace even more. I had to be almost to him by now even though I hadn't yet found a good place to climb the hill.
My stick thumped a tree to my left just as I stepped forward with my right foot. When I shifted my weight, the ground gave out underneath me. My forward momentum couldn't stop in time, and I was falling. Falling into a void. I opened my mouth to scream, but I couldn't get anything out of my frozen lungs.
Then my feet hit a sharp decline and skidded, tumbling me backward on my ass. I clawed at the snow, at the rocks, at the roots, anything to slow my progress, but I was falling too fast. The ground bumped hard all through my body, but especially my shoulder.
Then, finally, I stopped. I lay there, stunned. My breaths had been knocked out so many times on the way down that it took a long moment to get my air going again.
A murmured voice sounded to my left about a hundred feet away. And then again, even closer. "Fucking bitch…"
The bald man. Oh god, it was him. Falling away from him had just brought me closer.
An icy chill swallowed up my body, but I had to move. Had to hide so I could get the jump on him before he did on me.
I wriggled my legs, my one working arm. Everything hurt, but nothing broken as far as I could tell. A miracle.
"You make me bleed, I makeyoubleed. Drop for drop." Snow and roots snapped under his feet. With killing on his mind, he didn't seem to care how much noise he made.
Quiet as I could, I pushed to my feet. I no longer had my walking stick, and I didn't have time to search for it. But I did still have my bow and arrows. So now, it was just me against him against the forest.
My stomach rolled faster than I had down the hill. I would not panic. I wouldn’t pass out. Iwouldn't. I wasn't dead yet.
With my arms out, my numb ears perked, I stepped toward the incline I'd fallen down since I knew for sure that was there. Once I found it, I skirted to the left, away from the bald man. When my fingers brushed against an ice-covered boulder, I rushed around it and pressed my back tightly against it.
"You hearing me, little girl? Because I want you to know that I'm coming." His loud footsteps carried him closer, and closer still, just on the other side of the boulder.
Everything inside me grew in volume, and I felt certain he could hear the rush of my blood storming through my veins, the sounds of my labored breathing. I crushed my lips together and tried to quiet myself, but even that little movement seemed to crack like thunder.
If I ran, he'd see me. If I didn't, he'd see me. I plucked an arrow from my quiver. With my injured shoulder, I wouldn’t be shooting for a while, so close-quarters jabbing would have to do. Would it be enough against his fury?
He drew closer, circling around the boulder.
I readied the arrow in my fist, my muscles coiling for the attack. I'd stab and run. Aim for the eye. Blind him and level the playing field between us a little.
A rustling sounded in the trees, a little deeper in the forest.
"Is that you, little bird? Are you hiding?" He stepped in that direction, but I didn't dare let myself feel an ounce of relief. Not yet. If ever again.
The rustling came once more, drawing him toward it like a light.
I would only move when I couldn't hear that noise or him, and then I'd go as fast as I could in the opposite direction.
