Page 78 of A Bolt of Magic

“Yes, lead the way,” I say instead, hefting my own pack. “We should hurry; that storm is headed this way.” I look up at the ominous-looking clouds still rolling in.

The path up the mountain is well-worn but steep, carved into the rock face by countless feet over countless years. The stone and various cliff faces are covered in thick patches of lichen and moss that make everything look ancient and otherworldly. McColl moves with the easy confidence of someone who’s walked this route many times before, her feet finding sure purchase on the uneven ground.

We climb in comfortable silence for a long while, both of us conserving our breath for the ascent. Already, my thighs are burning, but I am enjoying stretching my legs. I find myself watching McColl’s sure-footed progress with admiration. She may claim to be a failed witch, but there’s nothing failed about the way she navigates this treacherous terrain.

The first drops of rain begin to fall, fat droplets that splatter against the stone.

“Oh, no!” McColl mutters, pulling up her hood. “I was hoping we’d stay ahead of the storm.”

“Me, too. This is miserable,” I say as I do the same with my own hood, but within minutes, the light drizzle has turned into a steady downpour. The moss-covered rocks become slick as glass, and more than once, I have to grab for handholds to keep from sliding backward down the path.

“We should shelter in there,” McColl calls over the sound of the rain, pointing to a narrow crevice in the rock wall ahead. “We will have to wait it out. It’s too dangerous to carry on in this.”

The crevice is barely wide enough for both of us, forcing us to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with our backs against the cold stone. Our combined body heat quickly warms the small space, and I become acutely aware of her scent – honey and wildflowers beneath the practical smell of wet wool and leather.

Unexpectedly, my mind conjures the image of her back at the cabin before she’d donned the oilskin jacket. The way the tunic had clung to her curves, outlining the swell of her breasts, her long legs and the indent of her waist. Then comes the memory of how she’d looked in that wet dress in the lake, the dark of her nipples through the fabric, and how her lips had tasted when she’d kissed me…

I shift uncomfortably as my braies tighten. I’m hard and throbbing in no time, which is an inconvenience I don’t need right now. I shift my weight as best I can in the tight confines,trying to put more space between McColl and me and failing dismally. I have to think about other things. Anything else but her, which is difficult when she’s right here.

McColl seems equally tense, her hands clenched in her lap as she stares out at the now light rain.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. The tension is almost a tangible thing. It would be so easy to turn toward her and close the small distance between us and—

No. I force the thought away, clenching my hands into fists between my thighs. I made a promise that I wouldn’t act on this attraction. A promise I intend to keep. We can’t be together. I don’t want to hurt her. I would hate myself if I did.

But by the gods, it’s difficult when she’s so close that I can count the individual raindrops caught in her dark hair.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the rain stops, and something that could be sunlight breaks through the clouds. It’s beautiful.

We wait a little longer, the tension growing with every passing heartbeat. Every soft breath.

“We should keep moving,” McColl says. “We need to make good time if we’re going to reach the halfway point before nightfall. If we’re going to reach the safety of the Star Caves.” She eases her way out of the crevice, and I do the same.

“Star Caves?” I ask, frowning.

“There’s a series of caverns further up,” she explains, her eyes moving in the general direction. “It’s the traditional stopping point we use when making this trip. Much safer than camping in the open.”

“I know there are hywolves and jackocracks in these mountains.”

“Yep.” She nods. “And like you said before, they like to hunt as soon as night falls. We have to make it to that cave before then. At least I know that my magic won’t fail me.”

“As long as I stay close.” I wink at her.

She smiles, her cheeks suffusing with pink. “Exactly. Still, I would prefer not to run into one of those jackocracks. They’re fast. Much faster than any hywolf I ever met.” She visibly shivers. “We’ve lost a few of our people to them over the years. Magic doesn’t help you if you’re dead before you can wield it.”

“They are pretty terrifying beasts.”

Jackocracks are like regular mountain lions but three or four times the size. Fast enough to outrun most horses, climb better than most goats, with at least three rows of sharp teeth. They’re clever, too. I agree with McColl; we need to push on and make those caves.

She giggles. “You should see the look on your face. We’ll be fine. The caves have protective barriers built into the stone. Ancient magic. We’ll be safe there. Nothing can enter.”

“That’s good to know. I’m not a big jackocrack fan.”

“Who is?”

We resume our climb, the path now slick with rain and mud that tries to send us sliding backward with every step. I find myself walking closer to McColl, telling myself it’s just in case she slips, but knowing it’s more than that. The thought of anything happening to her, whether it’s hywolves, jackocracks, or simply a misstep on the treacherous path, makes something fierce and protective rise in my chest.

As we climb higher, the mist grows thicker, muffling our footsteps and making the world around us feel dreamlike and strange. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the haunting cry of something that definitely isn’t human. McColl sucks in a breath, looking around us, her hands held up. I clasp my sword hilt.

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