Page 163 of Famine

My gaze goes first to the intruder speaking, then to the bow and arrow he has trained on me.

“Told you there was someone at the old Monteiro place,” a woman behind him says.

My heart begins to gallop.

Highwaymen.

I hadn’t given much thought to the bandits that roamed the roads since I began traveling with Famine. After all, anyone who came close to the horseman died.

Where the hellisthe Reaper?

Earlier he’d said that he’d leave—and he did. I just hadn’t thought he meantpermanently. But has he come back since he left my side?

And then another insidious thought creeps in.

What if something bad happened to him again?

Another man steps out from behind the one with the bow and arrow and walks over to me. He grabs me roughly by the arm and hauls me up, then drags me to the door.

I stumble along as I’m hauled out of the house and into the rain. I can no longer see the arrow aimed at me, but I sense it at my back.

The darkness is illuminated only by the dim glow of a lantern sitting on the porch. I can just make out the group’s three horses, tied to a nearby tree. Famine’s steed is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe I really am alone.

I take a deep breath at that.

The man at my side presses a blade to my cheek. “Where’s the other one?” he asks, his voice raspy.

“The other what?” I say. My mind can hardly keep up with the unfolding events.

“Don’t play dumb, bitch. We saw the second set of footprints.”

Famine and I tracked mud inside. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“Where is the man you were with?” my captor continues.

I feel fleeting relief that at least these three haven’t done anything to him.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?” the man growls, giving me a vicious shake. I barely catch myself from falling into the mud.

I give him a nasty look; years of barroom brawls have prepared me for men like him.

“Imeanthat I just fucking woke up, you ass-licking bastard.”

The knife leaves my cheek long enough for the man to cock his fist and hit me across the face.

My legs fold, and now I do fall to the ground. I hear him spit, though I don’t feel it with all the rain pummeling me.

“Bitch. We’re going to have to beat some manners into you.”

Distantly, I can hear the other two bandits moving through the house.

“What the hell is this?” one calls from the doorway. I glance over my shoulder as the woman saunters out, tossing Famine’s scales in front of me. The metal plates clink together.

At the sight, I feel a spark of hope.

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