Page 17 of Bryce

6

We’d been hiking another several hours by the time the first raindrops fell.

I’d had my eye on the clouds. We all had, though none of us had spoken a word of what we dreaded was about to come. Making our way over dry ground was one thing, but through mud? Not how I preferred to hike, to say nothing of the time we might lose while waiting for the storm to pass.

By the time the first fat drops fell on my head and rolled down the back of my neck, it was clear we were in for a soaker.

I met Gate’s gaze, and we nodded. “Let’s put up our tents,” he announced, sliding the pack from his shoulders. “Better to do it now than to wait until it really starts coming down.”

We were in a thickly-wooded area then, towering pines surrounding us on all sides. It was easy to imagine the way the area looked back before settlers began populating it, as not much in this particular patch of woods appeared to have changed. The trees were hundreds of years old, if not older than the dragons with whom I traveled, and only the scent of deer, fox, squirrel, and other woodland creatures permeated the air.

And rain. Rain began to fill the air in quick fashion. The overhanging branches and their needles held back much of the early drops, giving us time to pitch three tents. The women would share the smaller of the two, while Logan and I shared one and Gate took the smallest for himself.

“We won’t be able to slow down to a crawl many times before we run out of food,” Logan pointed out as we staked the tent.

“I know, though I doubt it will be a problem. We’re strong enough hunters that we needn’t worry over food shortage.”

“For ourselves, maybe.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked over the top of the tent, in the direction of Leslie and Isla. They worked on their tent without speaking, quite a surprise, considering who was involved. They were thoroughly invested in the task at hand and were close enough that they hardly needed to say a word to understand what the other had in mind.

“You think they would balk at the idea?” I asked with a smile. “You don’t know them very well.”

“Oh? You do?” He eyed me warily. “How so?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” But I did. “I meant, they’re both a lot more rugged than they appear. Don’t allow them to deceive you, they existed on fresh game long before supermarkets came into being.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. One look at the palace they call home and I have to wonder.”

He was wrong, though there was no way for me to tell him how I knew. How I understood Isla. The core of steel which ran through her. On the surface she might have been an ornament—lovely, sparkling, glowing with a light that seemed to radiant from within her. Skin like cream, hair that flamed in the sun and was soft and fragrant as any rose.

I knew the woman would have made an excellent general if called upon to do so, and pitied anyone serving beneath her, for they would find themselves on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

A tongue which had already taken out its lashes on me since we’d started out.

“They’ll be fine,” I assured him after glancing their way one more time. I didn’t look away quickly enough to avoid Isla’s notice.

She scoffed before turning away.

I drove the last stake into the ground with a bit more force than was technically necessary, with a grunt that was most certainly not necessary.

But the situation demanded it. A lot more than that, in fact. She insisted on treating me like a monster, which would only raise the attention of the others and bring a great deal of unwanted attention on our heads. Unwanted from my perspective, at any rate.

Gate built a fire, which went a long way toward removing the chill from the air, though I doubted it would do us much good if and when the rain picked up. The women enjoyed it, holding their hands out near the flames. It seemed to lift her spirits, so it was worthwhile.

We enjoyed our jerky, protein bars—nasty things, those, but better than nothing and easy to carry, and water, with the tent flaps open, enjoying each other’s company. Logan fell into telling stories of our last several missions, and I wished he would keep them to himself.

Isla listened with far too much interest, no matter how she pretended otherwise. I could practically hear her building up an arsenal full of ammunition to use against me.

When she shot up seemingly out of nowhere and stepped out of the tent, I couldn’t help but ask. “Where are you going?”

She pulled up the hood of her jacket, tucking her hair underneath. “I thought I might take a jog. Or go dancing. Where do you think?” She jerked her head in the direction of a wide tree perhaps fifty yards away, far enough to have a little privacy. She stalked away, hands fisted in her pockets, shoulders drawn up against the rain.

“What is that about?” Logan muttered, watching her.

“What is what?”

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