Dry leaves that had not decayed during the winter crunched underneath their boots, as they moved through the undergrowth. A canopy of green overhead covered the ground in darkness, but there were still enough breaks in the leaves to provide sufficient light to see by. Finn and Cade walked on in front of August—Ronan and Soren taking up the rear. From his ever-restless energy, Finn was not that graceful walking through the woods. A few tree roots tripped him, but he hopped right back up, as he continued to try and get Cade to talk. The boy stayed quiet, which just made Finn resort to telling stories of his time in the northern country, Alderyn. His stories filtered back to August, who grudgingly found the stories interesting. Soren would occasionally grumbled corrections about Finn’s description, making the archer bristle a little.
“What are you, some expert on the north?” Finn asked, whipping around toward Soren. He kept an even pace walking backwards, his anger steadying his clumsiness. That was until a tree root that stuck too much above the ground tripped him. A yelp ensued as he fell back, hitting his tailbone on the unforgiving ground. Cade burst out laughing, the noise light and flitting, the first sound he has made since leaving the front lines. August could not help the smile creeping across his face, until he quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
Soren shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips, and reached down to help Finn back to his feet. Finn took the offer, hopping back up and brushing the dust from his back.
Soren looked at him and said, “Not all of us were born in Medra.”
Before Finn could say anything else, the sound of cracking twigs caught the team’s attention. Everyone immediately fell silent, hands gravitating toward their weapons.
“Can you tell how many?” August asked Soren, who was glaring so fiercely in the direction of the noise August was surprised just that gaze did not kill them.
“Two, maybe three on foot,” Soren mumbled. “But there may be more in the trees.”
“Leave them to me,” Finn said, hefting up a shorter crossbow that had been strapped at his side. His eyes shared the same fire as Soren’s, making August believe that fury fueled Finn’s focus, giving all the pent-up energy somewhere to go. Finn turned away and scaled the nearest tree, his feet finding the minute footholds. Within moments he was out of sight, leaving Soren, who was barging straight toward the noise, Cade, who was creeping toward the shadows around the tree trunks, and Ronan withdrawing his sword and shifting into a defensive position. August followed Soren—sword gripped tight in both hands.
As the footsteps grew closer, two robed figures, dressed in black cloaks with hoods pulled low over their faces came into view. If it was not for the crunching leaves and snapping twigs, August would have thought they were phantoms, the way the trees seem to move out of their direction. Soren had moved off to the left of the path the figures were taking, and angled a large broad sword in front of his face. August went to move to the right, but was too slow. One of the figures caught sight of him, the shadowed vortex of his face turning in his direction.
It took one blink for the figure to get from where he stood to looming in front of August. He raised his sword, slashing down at the figure. Just before the sword could make contact, a gust of wind shoved August, throwing him through the air like a ragdoll. The air was knocked out of his lungs, as his back hit a tree trunk. There was a soft crack, before pain erupted from what August guessed as a broken rib. August’s body slid to the ground, out of his control, a deep groan sighing from his lips.
Soren had rushed out from behind the tree, bringing his sword down in a side sweep aiming for the gut of the second figure. The hit struck home, slicing clean through. Two halves fell to the ground with a gruesome spray of blood. That was when a third figure came out of the woods. Water droplets floated out of the air and ground, swirling around the person. At a snap of the figure’s fingers, the droplets froze, turning into deadly needles that soared at Soren.
It was in that moment that August’s brain struggled to make sense of what was happening. In a flash of light, Soren disappeared. In his place stood a tiger, black stripes running through the burnt orange fur. The ice shards cut through its sides, but the beast remained standing. The tiger crouched low on its haunches, a growl roiling deep in its throat. In one burst, the tension in those powerful muscles released, the tiger leaping upward. Deadly sharp claws dug into the figure’s chest, as he fell backward, black cloak billowing underneath the tiger.
August turned away, only to find the first figure continuing his trek toward him, a whirlwind storming around the man. The wind tore the hood from the man’s head, revealing a dark face covered in scars, with black hair tied back at the base of his neck. Pure ire raged across the man’s face, as he raised his hands in August’s direction.
In one instant, the air was ripped from around August. Pain beyond anything he could have imagined filled him, as his body convulsed at the sudden lack of oxygen. Every nerve ending screamed out, his hands scraping uncontrollably at his throat in a desperate attempt to create an airway. He gasped and gasped, but nothing came to soothe him. Green and red stars danced across his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. Panic screamed inside his brain as his vision blinked out.
Then everything cleared. Precious air tunneled down to his lungs—scraping against the tissue like sandpaper, but still filling them with sweet relief. The stars faded back, giving August a view as the robed man fell to his knees, a knife protruding from his throat. The man fell to the ground as Cade came into view, his hazel eyes scanning over August, while his cool hands gripped the sides of his face. Once he found whatever he was looking for, Cade released a heavy breath, before turning away from August. That was when a cloaked figure dropped from the trees.
A plume of fire burst from her hands, slashing across Cade’s chest. The blast whipped the boy’s body around, his eyes rolling back in his head. His body hit the ground hard. A scream of terror and rage filled the air. It took August a moment to realize it was himself who was yelling. Rage gave him the strength to stand. Rage pushed him forward. All he could hear was ringing, and the distant chanting. Curse magic. Cut. Maim. Bleed. Kill.
The girl let out a small gasp as the sword pierced through her chest. The hood fell back from her pale face, the life quickly draining from her wide green eyes. Long brown hair lashed against her cheeks, as her body slipped off August’s blade. August stood there, staring down at the body, just an empty shell now, as the life’s blood dripped off his sword.
He absently registered Finn dropping down from the trees and landing beside him. Reaching with numb fingers into the pocket of his pants, August withdrew a cloth and wiped the metal off, letting the bloody cloth float down to rest on the body’s knee.
As he looked up, his gaze caught Ronan’s—who still stood frozen with his sword in front of him, the metal trembling. August wanted to scream at him to move, to act even though there was no one left. He knew the anger was only the leftover adrenaline having nowhere else to go.
A gasp of pain shook him out of his thoughts. He turned to find Soren—back to his human form—kneeling in front of Cade, barking orders to Finn while tearing things out of his pack. Cade was wincing, biting back a yelp of pain, his hand covering only a small area of the burn covering his midsection. The skin was heavily blistered—a few edges blackened—while a patch on his arm was a bright shade of red. The fire had slashed through his shirt, the tattered edges sticking to his chest from blood gushing out in a few places.
“I need scissors!” Soren yelled to Finn, who was trying to sort through the supplies that littered the grass from Soren’s rush to get what he needed.
Finn’s hands were trembling, making the search too slow. August dashed forward—while also distantly registering metal clinking down against a rock—his eyes catching the gleam of sunlight off metal, attracting his attention to the scissors. He handed them to Soren, before turning to Finn, who was mumbling, “this is bad, this is really bad” over and over as he continued to fumble with jars containing pastes, bunches of dried herbs tied together with twine, and wooden bowls. August placed a hand on his shoulder, making Finn jump to his feet.
“You need to calm down,” August said. “You’re no help like this.”
“I-I just…I’ve never seen anything this bad.”
August was taken aback. “You were a soldier in the north.”
Finn shrugged, hands fluttering wildly at his sides. “Only as a scout. I’ve never actually been in battle.”
“You two! Get over here now.”
They both jumped at Soren’s growl. Cade was struggling against Soren’s attempt to cut away the burnt and soiled shirt, his muscles straining. Soren could no doubt overpower Cade, but was trying to get him to see reason. Ronan, meanwhile, had rushed forward and was now helping prep clean gauze and cotton strips to cover the burn.
“I need to cut the shirt away,” Soren said. “It will get infected if I can’t dress it properly.”
“No, leave it. I’ll do it,” Cade said, in between labored breaths.
“You are in no shape to do anything,” August said, stepping forward. “Just let Soren do what he must.”
“I can do it,” Cade protested, reaching for the scissors. Soren pulled back out of his reach.
August knelt beside Cade, grabbing the boy’s chin and forcing him to look August in the eyes. “Let. Him. Do. It,” August ordered. Still gripping the boy’s face, August turned to Soren and nodded.
Cade still tried to resist, calling out a desperate “No!” as Soren cut the fabric away, revealing a length of bandage wrapped around Cade’s chest.
“What is—” A small gasp left Soren’s mouth, as Cade’s arms flew across his chest, trying to cover the bandage. August stepped back. Then it hit him. No, August thought, his mind mulling over it; Cade is not a boy, but a girl.
“Please,” Cade pleaded, voice shaking, panic swimming in her eyes, “don’t say anything.”
Cade was so worried about protecting her identity, she was willing to risk infection.
“Just fix her,” August said to Soren. “Finn and I will set up camp.”
He dragged the archer away and started ripping things out of their packs. He could not believe Cade would hold such a secret. But why? Why keep herself disguised? Suspicion rose up in August, while he tried to preoccupy himself with setting up a tent. He could hear Cade’s hisses of pain, as Soren spread a green paste over the burns before Ronan stepped forward to help wrap her middle with a length of cotton bandage. Cade had passed out during that process, which left Soren to carry her into the now set tent.
August stayed outside, tending to a small fire, while Finn and Ronan went to gather food. Soren joined August by the fire, neither one saying anything.
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