Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
He fishes one out of his bag and hands it to me. I set to work.
“What are you doing?”
Thor asks the question as I bend green branches into shape and tie them with vines and bits of string and wire from the wreckage.
“It’s a trap,” I explain to him. “I learned how to make them when I was tending the herd. We can maybe try to catch something to eat.”
He nods and lets me finish what I started.
When I am satisfied with my work, we sit in the darkness at a distance from the trap. We cannot risk even trying to light a fire. We have to be still as the rocks around us, and just as silent. We are being hunted.
I grip the knife Thor recovered from the wreckage. He cradles a rifle in his arms. Neither one of us know if it will actually work, so it will be best if he does not have to use it.
We look at each other from time to time. It’s the only kind of conversation we can risk. I want to apologize to him for some reason. I am not sure why. For being here at all? For ever having gotten on the ship? That would not have changed anything. He would be sitting in a forest alone right now if I had not. I would be on a grassy plain watching goat kids play.
I owe myself an apology for being so impulsive, for letting my ego get the better of me when they told me I wasn’t suitable for the mission. They were right. I wasn’t suitable for being shot out of the sky.
There’s a sudden snap and a grunt in the forest.
I stop looking at Thor and I rush for the trap. We’ve caught something. Knife in hand, I prepare to dispatch whatever unfortunate animal has snared itself. I move quickly because I do not want it to suffer. I want to end the fear as quickly as possible, and I want to give it peace.
I come to a halt next to the trap.
I don’t want to give this prey peace. I don’t want to give this asshole the time of fucking day.
It’s Drako.
He’s walked right into my snare and now he’s hanging in the tree, wriggling about like a worm on a hook. I don’t know what he’s been through since the party, but his black and red leather attire, and a good part of his exposed skin, are covered in what looks like blood. He might be injured. Hard to say.
What I do know is that the satisfaction I get from seeing him in this state is incredible.
I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. Maybe since before the house burned down and my sisters betrayed our family’s legacy because their husbands steer them like mindless puppets, but let’s not be bitter about that right now.
Thor comes through the undergrowth at that moment, and stares at what we’ve caught.
“Cut him down,” he says. “I’ve got rope.”
Drako is already well trussed by the snare, but by the time Thor and I are done with him, he’s an immobile worm on the ground.
“Why did you come after us alone?” Thor asks the question. It’s a reasonable one. We should be overrun with Vikar if the jarl has found us.
“We took the chip out,” I add. I want him to know that I endured the removal, that I am stronger than he thinks.
“You think I am stupid enough to not know a tracker chip can be removed?”
I look into Drako’s eyes and I feel a magnetism that should not exist between us. How dare he be arrogant now? He just lost. He is alone and he is caught and he is among enemies. He should be shitting himself.
“You seem pretty fucking stupid to me,” I say. “You look pretty fucking stupid right now too, tied up like a fucking dumb animal.” I kick him in the ribs, then I take the survival knife I used to make the snare and I crouch down, holding it to Drako’s neck. The bloodied man laughs with what sounds like a kind of sick glee.
“Are you going to cut me, pretty little wench? Fuck me first. Let me die like a warrior.”
I seethe with loathing.
“You’re going to die like a trussed rabbit. I’m going to stick you like one. And then I’m going to cut you up like one, and I’m going to cook you over the fire.”
“You’ve a little cannibal,” Drako says, looking at Thor. “Good luck with that. Once creatures like these get a taste of flesh, they don’t go back.”
I press the blade to his neck. I am going to do this slowly, because that is what he deserves. All the pity I reserve for prey would be wasted on this predator.