Page 88 of Through the Wicked Wood

“I don’t know.” His words are forced between shallow breaths, his airway constricting with each second.

“If you’re a praying man,” I whisper again, “now is the time to start.” He opens his mouth again, but before he gets the chance to speak, I squeeze tighter around his neck. And tighter. Until finally, his eyes are bulging and his arms flail around me. Hitting my sides, my shoulders.

I loosen my grip and relief temporarily washes over his features, until he sees the dagger. His dagger I’d taken in the caravan. It takes a second to slice it across his throat. He sinks to the ground, blood coating my boots.

Wiping my hands clean on his doublet, I yell at Jarek. “Follow that guard.” Before Jarek can take a step toward the woods, a gurgled yelp sounds. The gnashing of teeth and clawing of nails is all I need to know what happened.

Alaric.

Hobbling out of the woods, his white and gray fur is mangled, stained various shades of red and brown. The limp in his leg is profound. I swallow deeply, my stomach churns at the bits of flesh still hanging from his teeth. A paradox to his aggressively wagging tail.

“Well done, mate.” I stretch my hand up to scratch the beast under his chin. He lets out a huff of air in protest as I pull my hand away. “What have you got there?” His amber eyes turn down as he drops something from his mouth onto the ground.

A ribbon, I realize. Black satin, just as the one I’d wrapped Elora’s new clothes in.

“She’s awake!” Jarek hollers, drawing my attention. Scooping up the bundled ribbon, it’s heavier than I expected, turning I jog to meet Jarek and Sam.

“Can you please not yell?” Sam rubs her temples, body still slumped against the tree. “My head is throbbing.”

“I’m sorry, my queen,” Jarek says, kissing her forehead. “You had me scared to death.” He pulls her hand from her lap and kisses it. Sam’s face softens at this before her eyes shift to me, then to the wolf.

“Elora and Galen?” she asks, her brows drawing together.

Shaking my head, I shift the bundled ribbon to my opposite hand.

“Shite,” Sam whispers, tears filling her eyes. “What the hell are we going to do?”

* * *

“We cannot go back without them,” I say again. Sam and I have been in the same argument for hours, getting absolutely nowhere.

“Sorin, it’s been almost two days out here in the woods, and we’re no closer to Valebridge than we were when we started. We’re exhausted, our supplies are minimal, there are guards around every corner. We can’t stay hidden forever. I’m not saying we’re going back for good I’m just saying—”

“You’re saying we give up.” I cross my arms, staring her down. Jarek inches closer to my peripheral. The bags under Sam’s eyes are a mirror to my own. We’re exhausted. Our resources are depleted, and I know she’s right. Of course, she’s right. But my mind is not my own right now. I can feel myself spiraling out of control. Galen is gone. Elora is gone, and whatever Fate has decided for us has only made her absence more painful. Like a physical hole in my chest. Sam squeezes my arm, anchoring me back to the present momentarily.

“Of course not, Sorin.” Her voice is soft, a wave of comfort in the chaos I’m currently residing in. “All I’m saying is we need to gain some distance between these guards. We need to gather supplies, recharge, and restabilize before we head into a place where we have no idea just what’s waiting for us.”

The thought of Elora and Galen with Roman rips me apart. “And Ruse.” She gestures to the black wolf lying at my side. “She needs proper stitching. Proper rest.”

Relief plagues me as I eye the wolf. Her usual cold and stoic demeanor dampened since we pulled her from the trench. I thank the Mother we got to her before the guards realized she survived.

“She is everything, Sam,” I whisper the words because they don’t feel real. Elora cannot be gone. “And Galen can’t fight. If they hurt him—” I pause, shifting my eyes to the ground. The guilt swallowing me whole. I’ve let them down. They will be hurt and it’s because of my selfishness. My stupidity. Clearing my throat, I face my sister again. “I can’t leave them.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Sam wraps her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder as we’re almost the same height. “I’m just asking you to use that big head of yours.” She reaches up to ruffle my hair, the same she has done since we were children, and sure enough it brings a smile to my face.

“Let’s head back to Wickersham,” she continues, “get the horses, rest. Heal Ruse. We’ll send word for Agnes to meet us, and together we’ll form a plan.” She takes a step backward, her eyes scanning my face. “Others will help us fight this battle, Sorin. We don’t have to do this alone. There are plenty who want to see you on the throne, and you know it.” She smiles, and my shoulders relax a bit. “And then we’ll come back for them. I promise you.”

I hate the plan, but Mother above I know it’s the only way to successfully get Elora and Galen back. Reluctantly, I nod my head. Jarek’s hand lands on my shoulder and offers a light squeeze.

“Let’s get on then, nightfall is nearing,” he says, hoisting his pack over his shoulder. I place the black ribbon inside of my bag, the Awakening Stones heavy despite how small they are.

“Alaric won’t follow us,” I say, and I have no idea what brings me to say it.

Jarek pulls Ruse in a make-shift gurney but stops to look at me. Nodding, he knows it too. Alaric will stay in the woods. Just as I wish to. We haven’t seen him since he dropped the Stones with us, and if my gut tells me anything, it’s that he will not stop looking for Elora.

Taking the long route around the Wicked Woods, a faint and familiar howl fills the trees. The three of us stop to scan for where he is, but Alaric is nowhere to be seen. Ruse lets out a howl of her own, defeated and whimpering she makes no attempt to stand. Smart as she is, she knows she would not last long on her own in her condition.

Another broken cry cuts through the vibrant orange and pink sky, disrupting a flock of birds from a nearby tree, sending them scattering through the air.

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