Page 24 of The Rook

Tempest skittered backward and wiped at her cheek with her sleeve. “Disgusting!”

“It was nice seeing you again, pet. Stay safe.”

She glared at the cat shifter as he disappeared into the darkness.

“Let’s move. I’m tired of waiting on you already,” Brine grumped.

The night was going to belong.

ELEVEN

Tempest

Tempest had a new appreciation for the notion of silence after three days of traveling with Brine. With every step, the Dread Mountains to the northeast grew larger—as foreboding as their name suggested—and, by the end of the third day, she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of them.

She shifted on her mount, and the horse nickered softly. “I know, I know. It’s hard not to wiggle,” she muttered. In the beginning, she’d been thankful that Brine had procured a horse for her. Her legs had turned to jelly, and she just couldn’t keep up with the wolf’s stamina—which he liked to complain about—even though she was in excellent shape. What she hadn’t counted on was Brine acquiring ashifterhorse. In fact, it was the bloody one she’d ridden into the forest the first time she trespassed into the woods.

Swiftly. An unoriginal name to be sure.

Luckily, she’d been spared most of the awkwardness. Swiftlydidn’t shift into human form, not even to greet them. Instead, he had snuffled through Tempest’s bag until he found her stash of dried apple slices she had forgotten all about. They hadn’t been on the best of terms last time they met, so Tempest was more than willing to sacrifice her apples if that meant he wouldn’t buck her off and make the rest of her journey smooth.

She ran her hand along his glossy, midnight neck. He nickered softly, and she smiled. They’d become fast friends, and all it cost her was a few treats. Even though Swiftly was as silent as Brine, his quiet seemed more companionable and easy-going. The late afternoon sunshine slanted through the forest at the base of the Dread Mountains.

“You know, I like you better this way,” she murmured to the horse, stroking his mane.

Swiftly whinnied, and she giggled.

Brine clucked his tongue, his expression one of utter distaste. “So easily won over, Swiftly. Do not forget who she is.”

Sweet poison. Thisagain.

“Considering how you all attacked me earlier this year, I doubt he does,” Tempest fired back, though there was no genuine anger behind her retort.

She and Brine had formed an uneasy alliance during their three-day journey so far. While they could hardly be considered friends, nor even acquaintances, she no longer considered themselves strictly enemies. It had been tough, but she had kept up with his brutal, unforgiving pace without complaint and, in turn, Brine had limited his threats and insults.

It was progress… no matter how small it was.

She eyed Brine as he prowled through the trees, his ears perking every time he heard something she couldn’t. “Why are you so on edge, Brine?” Tempest asked after a short while ofobserving the wolf shifter from her vantage point on Swiftly’s back. The wolf’s mannerisms were stressing her out. She forced herself to release her tight hold on the reins and muttered a quick apology to Swiftly.

The wolf froze and glanced back at her, his ears pricked up to attention. “Hush.” He sniffed the air, turning from her to investigate the left side of the narrow path they were following. His gray eyes moved to her face, and his lips thinned. “There’s something—someone—nearby. But I don’t…” Brine trailed off, which only served to unnerve her.

She frowned and pulled her bow from her shoulder at a rumbling sound that set her teeth on edge. No, it wasn’t a rumble… more like a bone-rattling roar. She scanned the trees around them, trying to find the source of the sound. Brine ran to a gap in the trees and glanced at the sky. Tempest urged Swiftly ahead and followed the wolf’s gaze. She stiffened, and her heart began to race.It couldn’t be.

“A dragon,” she breathed, equally terrified and in awe. The dragon roared again and disappeared from sight. It was a bloody dragon. She wasn’t prepared to take on a dragon. Her arrows would just bounce off its scales like a child’s toy. “Have you ever—”

The whistle of an arrow passed her ear. Tempest’s attention snapped from the sky to the forest, and she held her bow higher. Dragons didn’t wield bows. People did. A dark smile curled her lips. She was ready for people.

Brine partly shifted, his claws lengthening from his fingertips. The dragon called again, and it was as if it was right above them. The sound rattled her teeth. She glanced at the wolf and spotted a shadowy figure just as it leapt from the trees.

“Get down, Brine!” Tempest yelled, firing her arrow at theshadowy figure who was getting ready to impale the wolf shifter with his sword.

Brine ducked, and her arrow struck true. She didn’t spare them much attention as they collapsed to their knees and then crashed to the forest floor.

Tempest released an embarrassing squeak when she swiveled, and another figure bore down on her. There wasn’t enough time to ready another arrow. Swiftly sidestepped and then bucked, striking his back hooves against the assailant’s chest. She winced at the sickening crack and tumbled over Swiftly’s head. She groaned and rolled out of the way. That hurt.

“A warning next time,” she wheezed.

Swiftly tossed his head and whinnied loudly.

---