There was no end in sight, and the path grew less pronounced by the second. Finally, when another thorny bush swiped my legs, I slumped down against the nearest tree and cursed under my breath.
“I need to sleep,” I told Cormac, my eyes already closing.
The Mer did not argue. “I’ll keep watch.” He said, kneeling beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and the warmth of his body leeched into my skin.
“Aren’t you tired?” I yawned.
Cormac didn’t answer. Or if he did, I didn’t hear him. Sleep washed over me quickly, so quickly I was barely aware of it at all, until I woke from the middle of a dream.
“Don’t move,” Cormac whispered through gritted teeth.
He had shifted my body against the tree and placed himself in front of my legs, crouched low.
“What’s going on?” I said as quietly as possible, taking a shaky breath before I wished that I hadn’t. The pungent scent of metallic blood tainted the air, thick with it. I searched the shadows for the source of the smell. Strange vines hung from the branches, bulbous and dripping.
Cormac held a flint stone, barely bigger than the palm of his hand, but it was the only weapon we had.
“Hag,” Cormac said plainly, answering a question I had forgotten I asked.
“What is that smell?” I covered my nose with my hand.
“Look at the trees.” He replied. “I’d bet my scales those are the innards of some unlucky soul.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but an eerie shriek of laughter interrupted my thoughts and sent a chill down my spine.
It came from the trees, somehow everywhere all at once.
“Hag?” I murmured, thinking of the Hags of Goren. They were Wild Fae, and the stuff of horror stories that parents told younglings to keep them in line. I’d never had any desire to meet one.
I gagged against the smell filling the trees. Steam rose from the strange vines hanging from the trees, dripping onto the ground. I held out my hand, and a drop landed on my fingertips. Blood.
“How did a hag decorate the forest?” I whisper-hissed. “Did you fall asleep?”
Krrreerssssshhhh.
The sound made my teeth feel like they were turning in my mouth.
Cormac remained as still as stone, his eyes flicking through the trees as he followed something I couldn’t hear.
I didn’t see her move.
One moment, we were alone, and the next, Cormac slashed diagonally—the flint in his hand formed sparks as it met resistance.
The Hag danced away. Her body was a bundle of rags, bunched up and sewn together with no rhyme or reason. Her face was hidden amidst a nest of dark hair, save for her red eyes that glowed in the moonlight.
“Beautiful skin...” The hag crooned; her teeth were sharp, and her tongue was long. “I’ll add it to my coat... Oh yessssss... A fine addition.”
“You aren’t getting anything, Hag.” Cormac’s eyes narrowed. “Turn around and go, and I’ll let you live.”
The hag ignored him, lifting a clawed finger to her lips. “Scarred. On the chest. What a way to ruin good skin...” She murmured to herself. “Maybe the back... Though I bet they’ll taste just fine...”
Cormac adjusted his stance. “Is she talking about you, or me?” He asked.
I shrugged. “Both of us have chest scars.”
“A matching pair.” He smiled wryly.
The Hag curled her fingers, forming claws, as she darted towards us. Her fabric body flapped in the wind, but didn’t hinder her speed. The beast moved too quickly, striking Cormac’s flint knife again. Cormac cursed, kicking the Hag in the chest as he was forced to the side. The Hag had a clear view of me, her claws flashed—and I noticed the strange texture and color.
