Page 39 of Zeke
“Too many.” Zeke was already dressed, moving toward the door with smooth efficiency. “Large group, organized. They must’ve been tracking us through the night.”
Her stomach dropped as she shoved her feet into her boots. The food they’d gathered yesterday sat on the rough table… roots and dried meat wrapped in cloth. She snatched it up along with Zeke’s water flask, her hands moving with a steadiness that betrayed the cold sweat beading at her hairline.
“Anything else we need?” She turned to find him watching her with those yellow eyes, and something in his expression made her chest tighten.
“Just you.” He held out his hand. “Stay close. Don’t stop for anything.”
She took his hand, letting him pull her toward the door. Her broken leg twinged despite the cast, a sharp jab that sent a shock up her thigh. The black glass-like support held the bones stable, but she knew every running step would be paid for in pain.
The door opened silently, and the morning air slammed into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. After the warm cocoon of the cabin, the cold cut straight through her clothes, raising goosebumps along every inch of exposed skin. Her breath misted white in the frigid air, and she had to bite back a gasp.
Zeke’s hand tightened on hers, pulling her forward into the grey dawn light. The forest looked different from yesterday, shadows stretching long between the trees, patches of snow still clinging to northern slopes while everything else had turned to mud and slush. Her boots squelched in the wet earth as they moved away from the cabin, heading upslope into denser forest.
She tried to match his pace, pushing through the burn in her injured leg. The terrain fought them at every step… hidden rocks beneath the slush, roots that caught at her boots, and sudden dips that jarred her bones. Her breathing came harder as they climbed, the cold air burning her lungs.
Behind them, something crashed through the underbrush. The ferals pursuing them weren’t trying to be quiet anymore. Her pulse hammered against her ribs as more sounds joined the first…
“They’re gaining.” The words came out between gasps as she stumbled over a fallen log.
Zeke steadied her, his crushing grip on her elbow. His head turned, tracking sounds she couldn’t hear, and his jaw tightened. “More than the last lot. Seven, maybe eight.”
Seven or eight. The number sent ice through her veins that had nothing to do with the morning cold. He’d killed six in the storm, picking them off one by one. But seven working together? What if they rushed him all at once?
“Zeke—”
“No.” He cut her off. “I’m not leaving you.”
Her leg buckled as they scrambled up a steep slope, the cast not enough to compensate for damaged muscle and torn ligaments. She went down on one knee in the mud, biting back a cry of pain. Every second she delayed them brought those things closer, and the sounds of pursuit were getting louder.
“I’m slowing you down.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth. “You could?—”
“I said no.” He pulled her to her feet, and before she could protest, he bent and threw her over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
The world tilted as her stomach pressed against his shoulder. His hand clamped across the backs of her thighs, holding her secure as he started to run. Really run, not the careful pace she realised he’d been maintaining for her benefit.
Trees blurred past as he moved with impossible speed, leaping over obstacles that would have sent her sprawling. His breathing stayed steady even as he carried her weight up the steep terrain, power working beneath her with brutal efficiency. She felt every stride, the controlled grace of a predator in motion.
Wind whipped her hair across her face. The forest became a green-brown smear around them, branches slapping at her back and shoulders. She tucked herself against his back, trying to make herself smaller, less of a burden for him to carry.
Terror seized her... not for herself, but for him. The thought of him getting hurt because of her. Her children were safe, grown, far away. But Zeke had no one. Only her.
She wasn’t going to let him die for her.
“Zeke, listen to me.” She had to raise her voice over the wind and his pounding footsteps. “If they catch up?—”
“They won’t.”
“But if they do?—”
“They won’t.” His grip tightened on her legs. “Trust me.”
She wanted to argue, to make him promise he wouldn’t sacrifice himself for her. But the words died in her throat as he changed direction, veering hard to the left. Through her bouncing field of vision, she caught a glimpse of gray stone rising through the trees, a vertical cliff face of sheer rock. Sixty feet of smooth stone with nowhere to grab hold. It was a dead end, a place that would trap them while their pursuers closed in.
“Zeke, that’s a cliff?—”
“I know.”
He didn’t slow down. If anything, he sped up, racing straight toward the cliff. She heard their pursuers clearly now, snarls and breaking branches as they closed the distance. They had maybe thirty seconds, maybe less.
