“If you don’t eat it, I’ll give it to one of the other men, and it will be gone in seconds, so this is your last chance,” he threatens, then bites back a look of amusement when I snarl and reach out to snatch the rabbit meat stick from him.
“What do I need strength for anyway?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “More scintillating one-sided conversations?”
“Didn’t realise we’d had any,” he replies, and there’s the slightest cocking of one eyebrow.
With a glare, I tear a small piece of meat off the bone, my hands trembling slightly as I bite into it. Holy gods. It’s delicious. Within seconds, I’ve torn the rabbit off the stick and cast the stick aside, holding the meat with two hands, ripping into it with my teeth.
Mouth full, I glance up to see he’s still standing there watching me. I gift him an eye roll and mumble, “Thank you, Lord Grumpypants, for not leaving me to starve to death.”
He lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth and coughs as he turns back to the fire, picking up his own food.
As the food fills my too-long empty stomach, my mind drifts off as I lose myself in the fire. It’s so beautiful. Perfectly yellow-tipped flame peaks against the dark night sky.
Poetic.
Suddenly, something tugs at the edges of my mind.
Fire.
Leaning forward, I lose myself in it, relaxing my thoughts, trying to figure out why the campfire is reminding me of something.
The smell, the flicker of the flames… the sounds of the crackling of the wood…
So, so… familiar.
What is i—Oh my gods.
Flames.
It’s the flames!!
I jump to my feet, stepping so close into the campfire I’m almost engulfed in it as I stare into the kaleidoscope of oranges and reds, twisting and curling, reaching up for the air, and suddenly, like someone has grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked… I feel like I’m transported back to the village.
I think I hear someone call my name, but I ignore it as I take one more step closer to the flames.
Morath’s hell..
The market is burning, screams echoing in my ears.
My stomach churns, and the food in my mouth turns to ash as the memory hits me like a blow.
The fire. The market. The chaos.
The screaming. My gods,the screaming.
Janus. And little Kahlia, her little body limp in Janus’s arms.
Fire. Searing hot. Burning everything. Everywhere.
And then—ice.
Frost and then icicles forming in a thick dome, inches thick, protecting them.
The food drops from my hands as my heart skips gods know how many beats.
That ice. That ice shield, where had it come from?
In my mind’s eye, I stare up at it, and then down at the tingling fingers spread out in front of me.
