“We need firewood,” Khaosti announces, breaking into my not-so-happy thoughts.
A fire sounds like a good idea in some ways. The temperature is dropping as the sun goes down.
“I’ll go,” Zayne says, already walking away.
“I’ll go with you.” I hurry after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. I know he can be moody, but I wish he would talk to me, tell me what’s bothering him—well, apart from the obvious. He’s heading toward a small copse of trees, the only ones in sight. I fall into step beside him, reach out, and touch his arm. He flinches.
“Talk to me, Zayne.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Grumpy bastard. “I get it. This is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be back home right now. But at the same time, it’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for those things to come after me.” A sense of indignation rises up in me. “In fact, I didn’t ask for any of this. All I ever wanted was to be normal and—”
Zayne snorts, and I turn and glare at him.
“You were never going to be normal, Princess.”
“Yeah. I’m a freak.” I can hear the bitterness in my own voice.
“Maybe.” He sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “But I guess you’re not the only one. Not anymore, anyway.”
“What has Khaosti told you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He stops and turns to face me—the anger has drained from his eyes. “I’m not angry with you, Amber. Well, at least not about this.” What does he mean by that? Before I can ask, he continues, “But I need to think things through, get my head straight before I can talk about it.”
I search his face and then give a slow nod. “Okay. But don’t shut me out. We need to stick together.”
“Why? Because we’ve been transported to a whole different fucking world, filled with fucking scary monsters?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And we have no clue where we’re going or why, or what we’ll find when we get there. But I suspect nothing good.”
“And we’re following some guy who I don’t fucking trust one fucking inch.”
I glance back at our makeshift campsite and find Khaos staring at me. No, I don’t trust him either. But I think right now, we both want the same thing: to find the Crone and discover what she knows about me and about Khaosti’s brother.
The sun is almost gone now, just a red glow on the horizon. A shiver courses through me. “Let’s get the wood.”
We work in silence after that. There’s plenty of dry wood on the ground below the trees. Zayne piles it into my arms, and I head back while he collects another load. Back at the campsite, I drop it on the ground. I hope Khaosti doesn’t expect me to start a fire because I have no clue how. But he doesn’t say anything—just busies himself snapping some of the wood into smaller pieces. Within minutes, a small fire is blazing. Looks like Khaosti might have been a boy scout. Somehow, though, I can’t see it.
Zayne comes back, and I make myself scarce to take care of a pressing need. Then I wash my hands and splash my face in the stream. When I get back, there’s a pot bubbling on the fire, and the smell of stew fills the air—I presume provisions from the resourceful Brown.
I investigate the contents of my saddlebag and find a small rolled-up blanket and a parcel of food, bread and cheese. Ugh. I don’t have a toothbrush.
I spread out the blanket in front of my saddle, then lower myself to the ground and lean back against the warm leather with a groan. I stare into the flickering flames. Night has fallen like a dark tide, washing away the last remnants of daylight. We’re surrounded by darkness now, though a few stars are popping out in the night sky. I don’t sense anything bad close by, and I relax, my shoulders drooping. It’s been a busy couple of days.
“Amber, the food is ready.”
I open my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. Zayne stands in front of me, a bowl in his hand, and I reach out and take it. My appetite seems to have vanished, but I breathe in the savory scent and pick up the spoon. The food tastes good, and I shovel it into my mouth. Zayne sits down close by. He lobs me a bread roll, and I dip it in the stew and eat. With each mouthful, I can feel my strength returning. I empty the bowl and look hopefully at the fire. I meet Khaosti’s gaze across the flames. He’s watching me again.
“There’s more,” he says.
I push myself up and refill the bowl. I eat slower this time, and when I’m finished, I sit back and exhale, feeling the tightness ease out of my muscles. I hadn’t realized I was so tense; it had been part of me for the past few days.
“That was good,” I say. I look around, peering beyond our little patch of light. “Will we be all right here?” I ask.
Khaosti replies, “I think so. At least nothing followed us from the house.”
“Good.” Though I’m still not sure I’ll be able to sleep out here. “So is this where you come from?” I ask Khaosti.
