Page 88 of Cursed Shadows 4

A trade.

The flimsiness of my hope shows in the tear that rolls down my cheek to the corner of my slanted, trembling mouth.

I start with lowering my head—a bow of respect.

Then, slowly, heart thrumming in my fingertips, I reach for my backpack. Beside it, still on the parchment, is the gutted fish. I leave it where it is and, bringing my backpack to my knees, I dig out the other fish.

Those emeralds gleam at me still.

Unwavering in its watchful stare, the faerie hound keeps to the mist. It makes no move for me yet. But that doesn’t soothemy rising, thumping panic. In just a rushed run and a lunge, my head will be torn clean off.

The distance doesn’t settle my nerves.

I rummage around my bag but never take my eyes off the constant gleam piercing through me. I keep my movements as slow and steady as I can manage.

Still, my fingers tremble with my loosened breaths as I slip out that one paper-wrapped fish I have left.

The parchment wrappings crinkle faintly in my shivering grip. I swallow back a lump and set the fish down on the ground.

I offer the faerie dog all the food I have.

Since faerie hounds feed off two things—flesh and souls—I can only hope these two meagre dead fish are enough to strike the bargain.

But I can’t be sure.

The faerie hound hasn’t moved.

It watches me, still. Emeralds piercing out from wispy clouds, an eternal fog that clings to the mountain’s surface.

My movements are slow, gradual. I tug the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. I let the hound understand that I mean to leave… but to leave behind an offering.

A toll for safe passage.

Still, it does not move. It is frozen with the woods.

I lean my weight onto my boots and rise into a hunched crouch. Keeping my head low, my bow submissive, a non-threat, I chance a step back.

The emeralds flicker.

I stiffen.

If I had much water in me, I might pee a little.

It blinks, once, twice, then turns its piercing stare to the fish on the ground. For a heartbeat, too swift a heartbeat, it considers the offering—then latches it stare back onto mine.

My shoulders tense. My spine clamps up.

And I wait, muscles tight and braced for the attack.

But the attack doesn’t come.

I watch the steam huff out from its flaring nostrils. I hear the guttural thumping of its breaths catch deep in its chest. A sound I recognise from Kalice’s hounds, whenever they tried to communicate with her.

Only, I have no idea what it means.

I need Kalice here to translate, to tell me what this beast is saying to me.

I hope it’s telling me to get the fuck out of its territory.

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