Page 76 of Powerless

If Paedyn is so determined to hate me, I could make it very, very easy for her. It wouldn’t take much. But I’m selfish, weak, and unwilling to make it anything but difficult for her to push me away.

She’s bewildering as much as she is beguiling. That pretty mouth of hers says one thing, but those ocean eyes say another. She pulls a knife from my back only to say she’ll bury another one there. She’s confusing, captivating, and we’re completely wrong for each other in all the right ways. She’s a flame, and I’m going to get burned. An ocean and I’m going to drown.

I run a hand over my face, wanting to blame my dehydration for whatever the hell is wrong with me.

I’ve never been so affected by a single girl, and it’s absurd, absolutely annoying. But then I grin, remembering her heartbeat hammering beneath my fingers, her breath catching every time I touch her, her eyes drinking in every smile and dimple she supposedly hates.

The feeling of absolute annoyance for being so affected by someone is most definitely mutual, though I’m sure she’d deny it with a dagger to my throat.

So very vicious, that one.

Something glints in the light of the sinking sun, catching my eye.

There, hanging from a branch to my right is a sheathed sword, its silver handle winking in the light as I step towards it. It only takes me a moment to climb up and untie the belt from the branch before hopping down from the tree.

There’s likely weapons and other items hidden all over the Whispers for us to use.

Easier to draw blood that way. Easier to make things interesting.

I sling the belt and sheath low on my waist before drawing the sword to chop through the thick foliage.

Almost there.

The ground is covered in shadows, and I now have a rabbit that needs to be cooked along with a stomach that needs to be fed. I’d come across a single throwing star lodged deep into the bark of a tree and used it on the unsuspecting rabbit now tied to my belt.

I pause, hearing it before seeing it.

Gurgling, glorious water. Then a small, shallow creek emerged from the trees, running water skipping over the rocks that occupy it. I hesitate, eyes scanning the seemingly peaceful place.

All was clear—for the time being.

I creep to the edge of the creek, sinking to my knees before it and darting a look over my shoulder every few seconds, not wanting to leave my back exposed. I splash the cool water on my face, letting it drip down my skin and bare chest.

The bubbling brook flows from a small pool a few dozen feet away, the water clean, crisp, and cool.

Man-made.

And fresh. The work of Hydros, no doubt, allowing us this small favor of fresh water. I thank the Plague that the water is so clean, so purified, that it saves me the trouble of having to boil it somehow.

I’m scouring the area for kindling and firewood when I nearly smack my head on something hanging from the tree above, hidden in shadows. Canteens. Two of them, swinging in the evening breeze.

I find myself thanking the Plague once again.

Whittling two sticks together is about as fun as it sounds, but with years of practice and patience, I soon have a fire crackling before me. And though skinning a rabbit with a longsword is as difficult as it is damn annoying, it’s soon roasting over the flames.

And then—

A trickle of power tingles through my body, igniting my nerves and sending a familiar chill down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, feeling that power, that strength, flood my body.

Someone’s coming. And I know who.

A twig snaps to my left. Then another.

I don’t remember when I stood up, but I’m now dancing on the balls of my feet, unable to help that familiar itch for a fight and looking forward to that dance of dominance and destruction. Fighting is my favorite waltz, and I know the steps by heart.

Braxton barrels through the line of trees, eyes wild when they land on mine. He saw the smoke from my fire and figured he’d ambush whoever had lit it. But unlucky for him, I felt him coming before I even heard him sprinting through the forest.

I see him hesitate as if he’s debating turning back around rather than risking a fight with me. But the uncertainty flickers from his face as he begins slowly striding towards closer. He steps into the ring of firelight, his silhouette large and lumbering.

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