Page 68 of Synodic

I needed to hurry.

By now, Rowen could be lost in the throes of a hallucination, bleeding out, succumbing to an unbreakable fever, or—and my mind jerked at the possibility—he was already dead.

I pushed the useless fears aside and persisted on. I had to keep a clear head if I was to have any chance at saving Rowen, but my search was proving to be in vain. His salvation was nowhere in sight.

I wildly scanned the banks for the laith, worried I had chosen the wrong direction or that the current had already carried the body miles and miles away from me. Or worse yet, I was the one being hunted through the foggy sheets of rain.

I’d been desperately searching the rough terrain for what felt like hours with my heart in my throat and my nerves unraveling by the second. The worsening weather grew to mirror my spirit, and as my despair multiplied, so did the storm’s fury.

The straight river took an abrupt bend to the left, causing the raging water to crash against jutting grey rocks.

Wanting to stay near the shoreline, I walked across the stones, but they were slipperier than I anticipated, and I fell, jamming my elbow against the ground with a crack. I screamed in a howl of pain.

Fighting back tears of rage and desperation, I climbed back onto shaky legs, but just as I went to take another step, a massive torrent of water shot from the stone like a geyser. The force was so powerful it almost picked me up and sucked me back down with it.

I fell back onto my palms and scrambled backward, breathing in the jagged bits of air that were almost stolen from me.

I was on the verge of falling to pieces, of screaming and crying and cursing until my voice gave out: I had failed Rowen; the forest laith was nowhere to be found. My heart, lungs, and limbs cramped; and the water coming at me from all angles obscured my vision. Even if I turned back empty-handed, the chances of finding the cave in this weather were slim to none. I wouldn’t even make it back to be with Rowen in his final moments.

Lost, defeated, and exhausted, I was unsure if I should keep searching forward or double back the way I’d come. Either option seemed bleak. I could barely see as it was, and the more tears that wrung from my eyes, the more the sky pounded.

But I couldn’t give up, not until my body forced me to.

With a dying hope, I squinted up through tears and rain and almost choked on a breath of relief as I spotted an unmoving pelt of white in the distance. I dashed to the lifeless creature, making sure to clear a wide berth around the gaping hole that had nearly sucked me down into its watery dungeon.

The laith’s matted body was crumpled, dead, and face up against the rocks. I dropped to my knees beside it, and with Rowen’s ax, I quickly hacked at the moss growing from the beast’s fur.

Revulsion rose in my throat at having to touch and cut away at the dead spirit, but I fought back the burning bile. Stinging bullets of rain fell into my eyes, making it hard to see and even harder to keep my hands steady as I cut the moss with one hand and stored it in the fist of the other.

Another blast erupted from the geyser like thunder, shooting and spraying river water toward the heavens before plummeting back down to earth.

I closed my eyes, wiping the rainwater from my brow with the back of my arm, and when I looked back to finish the job, what I saw stopped my blood.

Two breaths of warm puffy steam exhaled from the creature’s glossy snout.

* * *

I froze, still holding a lock of fern-like hair in my hand.

I couldn’t leave now. There was no way I had enough moss.

More carefully now, I slowly cut a few more clumps of greenery from its mane, making sure not to stir the beast. Its massive white chest rose and fell with gurgled hisses, and it twitched and spasmed as rain barraged down upon its flat face.

A stray lock fell from my hands and tumbled down upon the forest laith’s neck. It grunted loudly and convulsed in its sleep, nearly stalling my heart mid-beat.

I needed just a bit more.

But before I could fully saw off another section of thatched tresses, ever-red eyes snapped open, locking on me with a keen inhale.

The laith launched to its haunches and swiped at me like a giant feral cat. I jumped back, narrowly missing being gutted open.

One of the beast’s arms hung by a bloody sinew from its shoulder, dangling like a piece of deadwood by its side. It didn’t even seem fazed by its injury as its predatory sense of smell kicked in and renewed the hunt for my flesh.

A scream tore from my mouth as it lunged at me again with its good arm, and the moss fell from my fingertips. With trembling hands, I firmly gripped Rowen’s blade. But having never practiced with this type of weapon, the weight felt clumsy and bulky in my grasp. I knew I didn’t have the skillset to wield it the way Rowen did. It was next to worthless in my hands.

I quickly glanced behind my shoulder into the dense forest, searching for a means of help. Any help. And as impractical as it was, I hoped to see Rowen emerging from the trees, healthy, whole, and ready to fight.

Another jet of water erupted from behind me and an idea struck.

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