Page 107 of Unrivaled
“Do you ambush one another?”he asked.
“Sometimes.We didn’t pack our bows, though.”
They were too close.I took off at a sprint, prioritizing stealth but not worrying about the tracks I left.The ground was clear in this area, the trees well-spaced.Undergrowth was soft grasses with some wildflowers.Everywhere, I left footprints.
I spied a half-fallen tree and veered toward it, deliberately going wide to pass by a climbable option.Now I couldn’t hear them, just my own quick breaths.I went to the tree, put one foot on it, then with painful caution stepped backward over my own prints until I reached the climbable apple.
Climbing quickly was one thing.Climbing quietly was another.And climbing without leaving evidence of your passage was very challenging.I did my best, hoping she’d be preoccupied schooling Chay.Up high, I walked along the sturdiest looking branch as far as I dared, then dropped down as gently as I could.This time, I picked my way carefully, stopping to fluff the grass where I could.
The sound of Chay’s frog was partially muffled but his footfalls were heavy.Isolde had probably tried to advise him.It was his first run.He didn’t know any better.
I got close enough to grab a low hanging branch from another tree and swung myself across a length of ground, scooted up this trunk and across a few branches.Here, I could see the stream and hear their conversation.
If I could make it back to the horses, I’d feel like I won.Even though I was winning purely because Chay was making their location clear.She would’ve caught me when I tried to double back without his incessant jangling.
But she’d know that’s where I was headed.I left prints to the stream, then once again doubled back and shimmied carefully up the tree, listening to the rise and fall of their voices as they slowly came closer.
I recognized Isolde’s tone and the pace of her lessons and strained to make out the words.They made slow progress together, slower than she would’ve had she been alone, by far.
The quiet of the orchard and the murmur of Isolde’s lessons in the background was like a warm blanket.Though there were so many things that needed my time, peace warmed me.This evening, I was supposed to have instructions for the tourney shade sails that needed to be replaced.Color, design.The cushions needed to be redone next year, so I didn’t want new sails that would clash with them.How long would the fabrics last before they weathered?
Right now I didn’t care, and it was a lovely sensation.
I let out a long breath.If my biggest problem today was whether the sails would match the cushions at next year’s tourney, it was probably a good day.
I was making La’Angi into a better place, improving the lives of people—albeit mostly by signing off on things others thought of and made happen.I was healthy and strong.The lessons with Chay in the morning and Kaelson in the eveningfeltlike slow progress, but this time last year I couldn’t have done half the things I could now.
There was none of the gnawing anxiety that usually accompanied thoughts of how much I’d done.That alone made me feel a little lost.
When would I be safe to take stock of my life?
Movement below drew my gaze.Chay moved carefully, his sheathed sword held in one hand to minimize the metal’s chime.Isolde strolled along as relaxed as ever.They weren’t speaking.I struggled to breathe, knowing it was unlikely they’d look up yet with my prints on the ground, but also knowing how vulnerable I was if they did.
“She’s doubled back,” Chay said, the words quiet.“Does she win if she reaches the horses?Is that your rules?”
Isolde stopped him, crouching beside my prints.“Look closely.Look at where her weight is distributed.”
I’d been discovered.It was a strangely freeing feeling.
“She wasn’t running,” he said.“The steps are too close together.But she wasn’t being cautious, either.She’s hiding her tracks on the rocks or in the stream.”
“Look at the indentations of her feet.They’re different.”Chay stayed crouched, staring at my footprint in the ground, until she made a noise of amusement.“Come back here.Come on.”
I propped my hand on my elbow, watching her walk him back to the other side of the tree and show him the prints I’d made only going one way, before I’d doubled back and walked on my own prints.
“Clear, light,” Isolde said, tracing the outline with her finger.“More through the balls of her feet than the heel.”
Chay made a noise of interest, then stood and went back to the one she’d pointed out.“Heel-heavy, here,” he said, sounding surprised.“Isn’t it?And this one’s a bit blurry.”
I winced.
“What would make her change the way she distributed weight?”Isolde asked him.They’d obviously skipped over this part of the lesson when I’d done this last time, probably focused on some other thing he was trying to learn.
I didn’t remember the first time she’d taught me how to track.Ididremember small, frequent comments as we walked through the gardens.I wonder what bent that flower stem,orWhy, when the rest of the stones are dry on top, is this patch darker?
I was confident my lessons had been gentler than the wave of information he was getting.
“If she was injured, or carrying someone,” he said, slowly.“If her pace changed?”
