She crashed through the underbrush and nearly slammed into trees as she went, now half-blinded by tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The artifact was cool in her hand as she careened forward, a source of both comfort and incalculable pain. The worst of it was, even in her mad rush through the trees,knowingthat the artifact was to blame, her own skin against it was to blame, she still felt unable to rid herself of it.
Overwhelmed by misery and tears, Ru stumbled directionless through the forest until it became so thick and dark that the sky was no longer visible, the sun glancing through in tiny bars of gold. The air was thick and hot. The shadows were deep.
It must have been attracted by her choked sobs, by the trashing of her progress through the woods. She wasn’t used to this. She was a city girl. She had never been fully alone in the wilderness, wandering a forest with no path.
She didn’t see the danger until it was upon her.
Ru was mid-sob when a hulking gray shape flew out from a cluster of ferns to her left, knocking her off her feet and sending her sprawling sideways.
Her ribs collided with the artifact, punching the air from her lungs.
She tried to scream, if only to startle whatever had attacked her. But breath wouldn’t come. She choked, gasping, pulling herself to her knees.
But the creature fell upon her again, slamming her back to the ground. Snapping teeth missed her throat by an inch as she wriggled sideways, kicking at it wildly, missing by a mile.
It was a wolf. A scraggly, starved thing, it wasn’t much bigger than a racing hound, ribs visible through its fur. The wolf’s desperate snarl and rolling eyes told Ru that it was hungry, had been for a while, and would do anything for a meal.
She wondered hysterically when the rest of its pack would come, whether this one would draw out her life until they could all enjoy her entrails together. She wondered whether it wouldn’t be a relief letting them.
But still, she struggled, her instincts taking over. She kicked out at it again, her boot connecting with its gut, drawing a yelp from the oversized thing.
And when it snarled, baring its fangs, she was hit with the sudden knowledge that she was desperate to live, to see her friends again, to walk the sunny cobbled streets of Mirith, to curl up in an armchair by a fire with a book.
The revelation lit her from within.
With renewed energy she struck out, yelling, smacking the wolf on the side of the head with the artifact. The wolf swung its toothy snout, knocking the artifact from her hand. It rolled and disappeared into the underbrush.
I don’t want to die, thought Ru.
But here she was, in the jaws of certain demise. And she had brought it on herself, running into the woods like a fool, hoping to lose herself in the trees.
She half-screamed, half-sobbed, trying to scramble away from the wolf.
But she was far too slow. It leaped upon her, heavy paws pressing down on her. It slavered, its drool landing on her neck. Then it bared its teeth with a greedy snarl, ready to kill. She could smell its foul, rotten breath.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see it come for her, watch it latch its jaws around her neck.
And then there was a sudden noise as something came charging out of the brush. All at once, the wolf’s heavy weight was gone from Ru’s chest. There was a growl, a scrambling flurry of grunts and wet sounds. A sickening yelp, and then stillness.
Ru opened her eyes and sat up shaking, her heart racing. There lay the wolf, bloodied and limp, only feet from where she sat. And standing over it, chest heaving, a red-slick dagger in his hand, was Fen.
He turned to her, pale. The dagger fell from his fingers, and he rushed forward, kneeling at her side. He took her shoulders in his hands, fingers gripping tightly, almost painfully.
“Are you safe?” he said. His voice was hoarse, almost desperate. “Are you hurt? Did it harm you? Are you bleeding?”
She was taken aback by this overwhelming show of concern, the slight crack in his voice. What did Fen care? She was a stranger. A murderer.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
Fen was clearly unconvinced. He began gently inspecting her for wounds, his fingers lightly brushing hair away from her neck, pressing his hands to her limbs, studying her with a determined gaze.
“I told you, I’m fine,” she said, wishing he would stop. She felt that she didn't deserve his care. “It only knocked me down.”
“Don’t do that again,” said Fen, still breathing hard.
“I didn't mean to be attacked by a wolf.” She made to stand but was lifted to her feet by Fen, his hands under her arms.
“I mean running off alone,” he said.
