Page 15 of To Hunt a Demon King

I ground the comfrey, garlic, and St. John’s wort into a paste that I spread over the blisters, intoning the words of healing as I did it. A warm tingling sensation told me the paste and spell were working.

Akela wriggled closer to me, resting his heavy head over my knee. I patted him after I was done with my feet.

“Are you sure you’re not just a big dog?” I asked. He turned his head, narrowing a yellow eye at me as if in disdain, which made him look a little adorable, rather than fearsome. I laughed, resuming my scratching of his head until he closed his eyes, his head sinking contentedly onto his forepaws.

Hunt wasn’t gone long. He returned with what looked to be two rather small rabbits held by the ears. He shot me and Akela a surprised look, then set to work skinning and gutting the things. I grimaced.

“If you want to eat enough to hike through the Bloodwood all day,” he said, not looking up from his work as he spoke, “then you’ll have to stomach eating rough.”

“How long will it take us to reach the Darklands?” I asked, watching him as he quickly and efficiently prepared the rabbits, skewering the meat on a long stick that he held over the fire.

“Who says that’s where we’re going?” he asked, looking up at me with an eyebrow raised. I frowned.

“Why else would I follow you?” I asked, growing irritated that I had wasted the whole day following this man if he wasn’t actually going to help me. I stood, brushing off my skirts and cloak.

“Because you will almost certainly be eaten if you don’t,” he said irritably. “Sit back down.” I gawked at the command.

“No,” I said, anger bubbling as I watched Hunt, who was entirely focused on the rabbits. “If you’re not planning to help me, I think I’ll take my chances with the monsters.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you,” Hunt replied placidly, as if he were oblivious to my growing irritation. “I just don’t know that it’s wise to take you to the Darklands.”

“Well that’s where I need to go,” I snapped, throwing my supplies back together as I readied myself to leave. “So you can take me, or I will go myself.”

“Fine,” he said. “Best of luck to you.”

I gaped, having not really believed he would let me go off on my own after making such a show of insisting he help me.

“Fine,” I replied, pulling on my boots and picking up my basket. “Goodbye.”

I limped away, trying my best to look haughty despite my fear of the woods and the pain of my still healing blisters.

“That’s west,” came Hunt’s voice, amusement lacing his words. I ground my teeth and took a deep, cleansing breath, willing myself not to test my life and death magic on him. Turning, I began heading east. Akela whined sadly.

To my satisfaction, I heard Hunt sigh irritably. I thought I heard him say something like, “you’d better be right about her,” which didn’t make any sense, but I refused to turn and look as I heard him stand and move to catch up with me.

“Fine, Red,” he said, jogging to overtake me and stopping in front of me. “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I am not a child,” I snapped, realizing it probably sounded very much like I was. Hunt rolled his eyes.

“Gods help me, I can’t let an injured witch run off into the woods to face certain death,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

“Really?” I asked, a jolt of relief passing through me. I had very much hoped he would relent. “You’ll guide me to the Darklands?”

He ground his teeth.

“I think it’s a terrible idea for a witch to go there, but if you insist, then yes,” he said.

“Why help me?” I asked suspiciously, letting him take my elbow to guide me back to the warmth of the small fire. The sun was setting in earnest now, and I was glad of its heat and light. “You don’t know who I am or what I want to do in the Darklands.”

“Because,” he said, returning to his seat and pulling the meat from the fire. He tested it with his fingers, hissing slightly and sucking on them when the meat burned. I tried not to watch him as he put his fingers in his mouth, but he had a nice looking mouth.

I needed to get a grip.

“Because Akela likes you,” he said, nodding to the wolf who had replaced his head on my knee when I had returned. “Which is unusual. He doesn’t like anyone. Except me, of course.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “Because your pet wolf likes me?” Akela huffed derisively, and Hunt chuckled.

“He’s not my pet,” Hunt said, “and I have other reasons. Including my desire not to be cursed by the Horned God for letting an innocent perish in these woods. And I’ll still be demanding payment.”

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