Page 26 of A Lick of Flame

“It won’t,” I tell her. “We’ll take turns sleeping. I’ll gather more firewood for your turn. We need to keep it going, and we’ll be quite safe.”

“I can gather my own firewood.”

I love the drive. The tenacity. The plain stubbornness she possesses.

“You’re doing it again,” she adds.

“What am I doing?” I finish the last of my cheese.

“Looking at me in a funny way.” She takes a bite of her bread.

“You can’t see in the dark. I was wondering how you propose to gather firewood out there.” I don’t tell her about all the creatures of the night who would pounce on a sweet morsel such as her in a single heartbeat.

She shrugs. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admits, her voice soft and contemplative. “Fine, you gather the firewood we need to make it through the night, and I’ll take the second shift, but it needs to be longer to make up for it. I don’t need much sleep.” She shakes her head.

“It’s a deal.” I nod once, finishing the last of my bread.

The human lies down on her bedroll, trying to get comfortable. She pulls a thick woolen blanket up over her ears. The night air is crisp and cool, but the warmth emanating from the crackling fire helps to keep more than just the critters away.

“Sleep well,” I tell her, but her response is to turn to face the other way.

“Wake me up in a few hours,” she mumbles.

I make a noise of agreement. I’ll relax by the fire for a little while, and then I’ll go hunting for more wood.

It isn’t long before the female is sleeping. Her whole body relaxes, and her breathing turns slow and deep. It’s peaceful out. Too peaceful, perhaps.

Maya

Someone shakes me awake.

It takes a few beats to remember where I am and why.

I’m out in the wilderness with an insufferable fae, traveling to the gods only know where to meet up with a witch to break a tether I don’t want to break. A tether I have to break if I want to live.

“Is it time?” I ask, my whole body still weighed down with the need to sleep. All I want to do is to turn over and close my eyes again. “Already?” I add.

The fae leans in close. He smells like smoke, like the forest – pine needles, to be exact – and of sunshine. As weird as that sounds, it’s true. He smells like sunshine and fresh pine and of cut grass. It’s not unpleasant at all. I wish it were. It irritates me that I even notice.

“Aren’t—” I start to say.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he says under his breath, his vivid green gaze is narrowed on the darkness outside the ring of light. “Keep very quiet,” he adds. I can barely hear him.

“What is it?” I whisper, sitting up.

Then I hear it, something crashing through the undergrowth. Something huge. Something close. I hear sniffing, too.

Kakara help us. There is an animal out there, and it sounds enormous.

My eyes go wide. “What is that?” I whisper, throwing off my blankets and jumping to my feet.

“A darkus,” Orion says.

“A darkus?” I frown. “They’re usually timid despite their size. They’re plant eaters who prefer to stay far away from humans. The smoke from the fire should keep it away, as well.” I know all of this because my father taught me about animals. My heart clenches as a memory of his smiling face drifts into my mind.

“It shouldn’t be here at all. It’s…agitated and…upset,” he whispers.

There are howls in the distance. I heard them earlier. They’re closer now. Much closer. There are snarls, yips, and growls.

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