Page 52 of Through the Wicked Wood

“I don’t know where to go from here,” I say through a sigh. “It’s been years since my Ceremony, and I’ve not once felt magick possess me the way it had my mother.” He runs a hand down my spine, twisting his fingers in the ends of my braid. I leave out the rest, that knowing I’ve had this magick all along makes losing them an even heavier burden to bear. I had all the weapons at my disposal and yet, I did nothing. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” I whisper, swallowing down my grief. The guilt. “About having completed my Ceremony.”

His idle hands stop against my back. He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. I tip my chin up as his fingers grip my jaw, pulling me into a deep kiss. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my suspicion that you could be a Dyrsjel,” he whispers against my lips before kissing them.

A low, growl interrupts my wandering thoughts. We both direct our attention to Alaric. The wolf has moved from his position on the ground, sitting upright, eyes focused on where Sorin and I touch.

“Well,” Sorin muses in my ear, “it appears as though I have competition.”

* * *

The wolves follow my every move through the woods. When I stop for water, they stop behind me. When I trip over a covered root, Alaric is there before I can hit the ground. I’m baffled by how they can anticipate my next step, and the farther we walk the more attuned they become. The black wolf keeps her distance behind us as Alaric and I walk in unison. I attempt a few times to reach out my hand for her, as I’ve done to Alaric, but unlike Alaric I’m met with resistance. I’m not sure how to get through to her, but maybe with Galen’s help I’ll be able to speak with her in time.

“So, we know the big guy’s name is Alaric, right?” Jarek says from over his shoulder as we trudge through a swampy part of the woods. My boots slosh in the spongy moss that covers the forest floor. Water seeps up from the ground with every heavy step threatening to soak my boots entirely. Jarek and Sam have kept their distance from the wolves, and by the wary look on Sam’s face, I’m sure it’ll take longer for her to come around. I can’t blame her caution. I’ve witnessed these very wolves kill without a moment's hesitation. But then again, so have I.

“But what about that one there?” Jarek gestures to the black wolf at our rear. She lowers her head in Jarek’s direction. Her perfect white canines peek through her snarled lip, and Jarek shudders at the sight. Pausing my steps, I let the black wolf catch up to me, ignoring the water seeping through the soles of my boots. While she doesn’t allow me to touch her, she paces anxiously from side to side in front of me. As if my sudden stillness causes her some sort of unrest. I catch her green eyes for a moment and everything around us falls into silence. The forest shifts as the trees still their movements. The crows cease to caw and the only sounds left are my heartbeat and hers.

As bright as lightning, her name appears in my mind.

“Ruse.” The word pours from my lips in a soft whisper. Turning back toward the rest of the group, I can’t help the grin that splits across my face. “Her name is Ruse.”

Jarek’s laughter bounds through the otherwise silent woods causing Ruse to jump. Sorin beams with what I hope is pride as Sam offers a faint smile. The hair on Ruse’s haunches raises as she continues to pace behind me. Her eyes, however, lock on Galen, not Jarek as I would expect.

“I’m not sure I’ll get used to that any time soon,” Jarek laughs again. “Speaking to the susi.”

* * *

My magick pushes against my fingertips as I drag them over the rough bark of a fallen tree branch. The intensity grows stronger the longer I’m with the wolves. They flank me on either side as we trudge up a steep incline. Their silent paws are undetectable as we make our way over the moss ridden hill. How an animal of such size can be so quiet moving through the forest baffles me.

Emerging on the other side, my chest heaves from the effort of the climb. The rest of the group descends the hill, but I take a moment to catch my breath. Kneeling, I take a long drag of water from my canteen before a nudge at my elbow causes the water to spill over the sides.

As if encouraging me to stand, Alaric nudges my elbow again, and this time, I let out a laugh. Tightening my canteen, I place it back in my pack.

“Okay, you big beast. What demands so much attention?” I pat his side and he yips, tossing his head toward the bottom of the hill. Such an innocent gesture for such a giant animal. Redirecting my attention to the landscape below, I suck in a sharp breath at the magnitude of beauty that awaits us.

We’ve made it to Karos Falls.

Chapter 27

Sorin

Karos Falls is unlike anything else in the Trinity Forest. Surrounded by dense pine trees lies a vast pool of shimmering emerald water. The water pours from the falls in silky waves that are velvety to the touch. The thick canopies of the trees above us let in very little sunlight, the light from the water casting an effervescent glow to the surroundings. At the center of the pool is the massive waterfall from which it’s named. The tidal wave of raging white spills into the emerald pool, the noise creating a natural barrier from predators.

My eyes lock on the falls, memories of my last time here pushing against the back of my mind. Sprites buzz wildly at the water’s edge, their bodies offering a twinkling of light as the day grows darker. It’s their light that brings a smile to my face, despite knowing generally they’re up to no good.

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” Sam hisses as a rock collides into the back of my arm. Whipping my head around, I shouldn’t be surprised to see her smug expression.

“Well that was rude,” I say, bending down to bundle several pieces of wood into my arms. Galen, Jarek, and Elora left to scan the area to hunt, leaving Sam and I to collect wood for the fire.

“But you must admit my aim was impeccable,” Sam says, the same smugness on her face dripping into her voice. I laugh as I continue to gather sticks.

“Don’t flatter yourself, we’re less than five feet apart,” I say, tossing a stick in her direction and missing.

“What I was asking,” she starts again as we make our way back to camp, “is if you’re ready for tomorrow?” Her question brings me to a halt.

I am certainly not ready for tomorrow.

“Sure,” I lie, picking my pace back up.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Sam laughs, though I know it’s laced in fear. “Is shaving a week off the trip really worth going through the Wicked Wood? Surely it can’t make much of a difference.”

---