Page 43 of Born into Darkness

Chapter 12

Weeks had passed since the dwarves and I had rescued the shifters from the pirates. I’d barely seen Phantom since the resistance council had snatched him up, bleeding him of information about the insides of the slave camps. Our encounters consisted of bumping into each other in the corridors or giving each other updates at the dinner table. Apparently, he and the dwarves hatched plans to penetrate the weaknesses within the camps. But I was not privy to the details. They left me out of it, which annoyed me somewhat, considering I was the face of their operation. A part of me didn’t want to just be for show. The old Snow wanted her place at the planning table, and she was seriously leaning to become the face of the resistance.

I was itching for freedom and some fresh air…to take a ride on Poseidon, so I marched through the tunnels, to the stables, to do just that.

“What are you doing?” one of the stable hands asked me.

I glanced at the lad but continued carrying a saddle toward my horse. The hand was just a boy, no older than eighteen sun cycles, and he had dull-brown eyes.

“Going for a ride,” I told him, tossing the leather on Poseidon’s back, getting a friendly nicker from my stallion in response. I’d missed him these last few weeks, only being able to brush and feed him and not take him out for exercise because of the resistance’s paranoia about pirates.

The stable hand grabbed my wrist. “It’s not safe out there,” the boy warned.

I stared at his hand, prompting him to release me.

“Pirates still venture out there,” he mumbled, cheeks turning red.

Yeah, yeah.I’d heard it before. According to Grimm, removing all the pirates and blockading their trafficking routes could take many more moon cycles. Time I was not willing to wait. After so many weeks and months spent in captivity—then being forced to remain belowground with the resistance with only sporadic outings to rescue shifters—I needed freedom. Didn’t they understand that?

“I won’t be gone long,” I said, securing the saddle’s girth and adjusting the straps on the stirrups.

“Grimm won’t be happy about this,” the boy said, backing away as I mounted my horse.

Go, little tattletale.I’d be long gone before Grimm caught up with me.

“Hi-ya!” I nudged Poseidon into action, and he galloped out of the cave.

Crisp air caressed me, flicking my hair over my shoulder. Golden and red leaves fell from the deciduous ash, oak, and chestnut trees. The sound of Poseidon’s hooves crushing them was like magic to me.

I rocked to my horse’s steady beat, finally feeling a sense of freedom I’d not had in a long time. We spent half the morning exploring, and I stopped for us both to drink from a stream. Poseidon lapped up the water like an animal who had been lost in the desert and had found an oasis. I bent down near him, scooping up a handful and drinking from it. Then I washed dirt from my face and sweat from my neck.

Poseidon prodded me in the back, his signal for letting him out of the saddle. That usually meant he wanted to roll in the mud.

As I unhooked one of the straps, he whinnied nervously.

“What is it, boy?” I asked, stroking his side.

Nickering, he dragged his hoof in the dirt.

“All right,” I said, fingers hastening to remove his burdens. “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

But the stallion retreated, shaking his head up and down, lifting a knee in the air and stomping. Whenever we went hunting, he acted strange like this if something approached. Something out in the forest had set him off.

I stiffened, listening. Had the resistance followed me?

Something growled in the shrubs some feet away.

Flipping hell.What was that? A wild dog? A shifter?

A snarl traveled through the clearing from the opposite side.

Two of them? Hunters traveling in a pack.

My heart leaped into my throat.

The bushes shook, and a large panther with a silver streak across his back emerged from them. The shifter appeared to be an older male, judging by the large balls dangling from his abdomen. He stalked closer to the horse, snarling. My attention flew to the silver collar on the panther’s neck, the one I’d seen in the mirror, one of the collars that were painted with runes. More confirmation I could rely on the visions I’d seen…proof I wasn’t seeing things and going crazy.

Poseidon reared on his back legs, kicking, warning the cat to back off.

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