Page 23 of Hunt Me
‘I wanted to find some supplies before I head further up North,’ she finally responds, and her admission makes me sit up straighter.
Now why would she want to go up North?
Fauna sees my interest and takes it as a sign to continue. ‘Figured the Highlands would be a nice place to settle, to make a home.’ Her voice is quiet as she finishes, as if her hope is a weakness and something to be embarrassed of.
A home. My mischievous little deer wants a home.
Possessiveness fires within me. ‘You won't find a home up there. Well, not a nice one if that’s what you are hoping for.’
‘How?’
‘Past Loch Lomond is a whole different world. You think those rats we saw earlier were crazy? Up North, it is a whole different ballpark.’ I think about how much to tell her, worried that maybe she is drawn to that sort of crazy, that my telling her about them might make her want to go even more.
Small red patches have started to creep up her neck. ‘What’s up there?’
I sigh. ‘Hell.’
Chapter Eleven
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Fauna
It feels as if my world is crashing down as Ruaridh’s words ring through my ears.
Further North has always been our plan, but the urgency of it is higher now that Isla is pregnant. We don’t know how long she has left until the baby comes.
It feels like a ball is lodged in my throat.
I want to scream, to cry but I can’t. Not with this Skull sat watching my every move. I settle on a gulp of whiskey, this one significantly bigger than my last, as I welcome the burning liquid to travel through my body.
‘You’re upset,’ he states.
I suppress an eye roll at him stating the obvious. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and conclude that I’m on the verge of a breakdown. My vision begins to blur, and I am overwhelmed with frustration.
I don’t know how to help the girls and that realisation stabs me in the chest.
‘I’m—’
I cut him off by throwing the whiskey bottle at the wall behind his head. Unable to focus on any damage I may have done I try to catch my breath, but my body won't let me.
Ruaridh’s large frame blurs in front of me, and I’m too numb to care if it’s in a threatening sort of way. Maybe pain will make me focus and hone my brain into survival instead of this pathetic panic that will do nothing but get those I love most killed.
‘In through your nose,’ I realise he’s hunched over to my eye level acting out his words for me to follow. ‘Out through your mouth.’
What he’s doing is so unexpected I pause and watch. The Skull, who must be at least six-foot-four, is doing breathing exercises with me.
‘Come on, Fauna.’ His voice is gentle, and all it does is make the seed of suspicion that has always been inside of my stomach grow.
Ruaridh’s movements are well practised as he counts his breaths in with one hand. Once he gets to four, he holds and then whooshes a large breath out, fanning across my face as he exhales through parted lips.
I don’t repeat his motions.
He lets out a sound like a growl. ‘Stop being a little bitch and breath for fucks sake.’
My fury bubbles up and I snarl at him as my lungs release and fill with air. ‘Fuck you.’
He smiles wide, showing his white teeth. ‘There she is. Now,’ Ruaridh grabs my hand, pulling me to follow him.
