Page 31 of Never Tamed
“Sorry I’m slowing us all down, guys.” Noble sucks in a sharp breath. “I just need to get some food—some real food—in me and sleep it off. That’ll help speed up the healing.”
My stomach growls again. “I second that.”
I’ve never been very good with missing meals.
“We’ll make camp half way. It’ll also let us make sure we’re not leading Andras straight to our packs.” Torin looks at me before dropping his gaze.
Dax snorts in annoyance. “Fine. But keep up in the meantime.”
Without pause, he strides forward again, broad shouldered, into the trees.
Noble mutters, “Asshole” loudly enough for an animal with advanced hearing to catch.
Dax’s ear twitches but luckily, he doesn’t stop or jump on Noble, fists flying. Not like he would have done a week ago.
Maybe there’s hope we can all get along after all.
This hungry and tired, I can’t put much stock in hope.
Mathis helps me along and we follow the trail Dax cuts. Snow crunches underfoot and each step sinks enough to slow us down. As a human, this kind of hiking would send me into a five-hour nap of pure exhaustion.
Now, Torin helps Noble trek through the blanket of white the same way Mathis helps me.
Branches creak above us, heavy with frost.
The early morning sun is barely more than a smudge behind the clouds and the forest stretches endlessly in every direction. The peaceful quiet is an insult to the heaviness in my heart and the restless thoughts echoing in my head.
How Dax knows where he’s going is a mystery but he definitely has a place in mind. And out of everyone, he’s the one I trust the most to get us through the wilderness. I won’t question him. He’s the one who knows the safest spots on Grey Mountain or in the Valley.
I step in the footprints imprinted in the snow and glance over my shoulder repeatedly to check on Noble. He and Torin lag behind with their heads bent together in low talk.
Dax stalks forward and although Mathis is here with me, holding me, his mind is obviously elsewhere.
Will he snap? Fall apart? Vanish into fur and rage?
Those things vibrate through him.
I’m surprised he hasn’t already.
My legs are numb up to the knee, my hands stiff in my pockets. I won’t complain. None of us do. We have to focus on getting somewhere safe where we can hunker down and start a fire, hopefully eat, and rest before making the full trek back to the camp.
What will we find when we get there?
The worry hollows out my core.
Fallen trees and stumps cut through the endless gray expanse and thick roots rise like twisted bones through the snow. Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls out, the noise so sudden I flinch.
Dax freezes and lifts a hand to stop us. Whatever he senses must not amount to much when he beckons us forward.
Eventually, the trees thin slightly and the slope starts to dip. I smell water before I hear it, the sharp, icy freshness of a running stream. Then the trickle reaches my ears and I see it. A creek, half-frozen, winding between snow banks like a sliver of silver.
Dax slows, his bare feet crunching softer now.
When he stops near the edge of the bank, he looks around with narrowed eyes and his nostrils flare.
“Here,” he says. “We’ll make camp here.”
I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. Dax only stands and shakes his head like this place and the weight of memories batter him.
