Page 43 of Outcast Fae
I hiked in the sand, following his giant footsteps, every inch of me screamed that this was a bad idea. Vaughn hated me and my kind. I should let him leave. Sinasre was here. Together, he and I could create a more cohesive group, if our captors allowed it. Then, if the children were here, we could find them. And, with less conflict and strong leadership, we might convince Meadow Song that we were rehabilitated and they’d let us out of this godsforsaken place. I stopped for a second to consider this option more.
And yet, I understood what Vaughn must feel like all too well. If I didn’t offer him some empathy, what would that say about me?
I found him sitting a ways down the beach. He had discarded his boots. His toes were in the sand, and the late afternoon sun in his hair. In this light, his locks were golden, like swirls of sandalwood that had fallen beneath a woodworker’s bench. He didn’t appear to be a vicious monster or adogas Elon had called him.
He looked… sad. More puppy dog than wolf.
He saw me or, rather, heard me coming. Lifting his head, he checked my approach, then lost interest. I was no threat, and he didn’t seem to care when I stopped a few feet away and sat down.
The sand was warm. The air smelled of salt spray. The sound of waves made my shoulders drop just an inch.
“It’s nice here,” I said, almost to myself.
Vaughn dipped his head once. “Too bad the water is salty, or we could set up camp here. Sleep under the stars.”
“Unless we have to worry that the werewolves will come back,” I said, giving him a sideways glance.
His calm expression turned stormy. “If you’re here to rub it in that I’m some… creature, you can save it.”
“Is that why you think I’m here?” I raised an eyebrow genuinely curious.
He took a hard look at my face before turning his green-eyed gaze back to the ocean. “Don’t know. You probably want to rub it in, so go ahead. I’ve been nasty to you. It’s your turn to dish it back.”
I sighed big. “Vaughn, at this point, I don’t have any energy to gloat. Truly.”
He seemed to accept this, swirling a finger in the sand absentmindedly.
“Not that you being a werewolf is a reason to gloat. It doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. I wanted him to meet my gaze and see that I meant it, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “What did they say when I left?”
“Nothing. They took turns ripping the pig apart and devouring it like hungry—”
He glanced up at me as if waiting for another jab.
“Children,” I said, finishing my thought. “The kids at home would rip a roasted chicken to bits before you could count to five.”
“You used to look out for kids at home?” he asked quietly. “Other... fae children?”
“Back at home, yes.” My throat felt tight.
His jaw tightened. “How many were there?”
“Six,” I said. Once there had been double that number, but they had moved in with fae families willing to raise them. “All different ages. Different personalities. Miriyana loves to pick fights, and Bor loves to solve them. Hani eats mustard right out of the jar, and Wren won’t eat anything but salad.” Each one of the faces flashed through my mind’s eye, deepening the ache for them until it felt like I had a gaping wound in my chest.
“I lost someone, too.”
When I glanced up, Vaughn was facing me. This time, when our eyes met, he didn’t look away.
“Who?” I asked.
“A girl,” he replied.
“Oh.” I dropped my eyes to the sand, not really understanding the sudden tightening of my heart. I cleared my throat. “What are you going to do now?”
Vaughn sighed as I had a few minutes ago. “Drum up the courage to go back to camp. See how much they hate me. I should be used to it by now, but… Anyway, it seems the powers that be hate it when someone goes off on their own—I think they sicced that snake on me—so we need to stick together. I need them to continue to pay as little attention as they are right now.”
“Are they listening now?” I asked, glancing up.
