“Do you want to set up camp here?” I asked.

  It seemed a good place. The clearing was large enough to set up our tents, but not so large that we couldn’t keep a clear eye out for anybody coming our way. Since we didn’t have magic as a weapon, we had to use our wits. Queen Borea had been clear on the fact that she wouldn’t allow us to bring any spells, scrolls, or magical weapons with us. In fact, she had taken away my bow and replaced it with a beautiful, well made, normal bow and arrows. And she had ordered Karehl’s weapons examined as well.

  Both groups had been outfitted with the same supplies and the same type of weapons. We were evenly matched, and from what Bran had told us about Karehl’s choice in the four men he chose to be at his side, we were closely matched in skill.

  “I think we should,” Bran said. “That way, we can prepare before Karehl comes for us. And he will come for us. My brother’s impulsive, and that’s one of his biggest weaknesses. He’ll be on the road, looking for us, once they get oriented, which means we have two days at the most.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon setting up camp. Sen erected trip ropes around most of the encampment. Borea had outfitted us with enough wood for several days, which saved us a great deal of time and trouble gathering it. I built a fire while Quen and Bran set up two tents—one for the men, and one for Fenling and me. Fenling started setting snares to augment the trip ropes, hiding them with a thin layer of snow.

  After I finished with the fire, I started making dinner, cutting chunks of meat and potatoes into a pot of water. Then, I hung it over the fire and began to slice a loaf of bread. When the soup was bubbling away, I skewered the bread on sticks, toasted them over the fire, and slathered them with fresh butter from the crock that Borea’s servants had tucked into the food basket. By the time the others were finished with the traps and tents, the soup was ready. I ladled bowls for everyone and then handed out the bread. After we ate, we settled down around the fire and drank tea while we talked.

  “We need to stand watch,” Bran said. “Regardless of the traps, we don’t want to give Karehl any chance to surprise us.”

  “I thought you said it would take a couple days for them to reach our camp?” Fenling asked.

  Quen cleared his throat. “Normally, yes, but even though we have no magic, the woods themselves are magical. I don’t want to take any chances. Bran’s right—we need to keep watch.”

  Fenling set down her mug of tea. “Is Karehl our only enemy out here? I have no idea what dangers are hiding in this forest.”

  I stood, stretching. In my bones, I could feel the energy of the woodland transforming. It moved around us like a serpent, a subtle shift that felt like it was wrapping us up in a cocoon.

  Reaching out, I tried to sense what was happening.

  The wind began to speak, that constant susurration that never stopped. But now, instead of just the whistling currents, voices echoed in a breezy stream. As I looked around, every log covered with snow, every tree cloaked in white, seemed to be alert and watching us. I squinted and caught a faint glimpse of translucent creatures formed from ice itself. They darted from snow to tree trunk to branch in what appeared to be a frenzied dance. I stared at them for a moment until one looked directly at me. In a fraction of a second, they froze, then vanished from sight.

  “What’s wrong?” Bran asked.

  “I don’t think we’re alone,” I said, cautiously looking around. “I just saw some sort of creature. They remind me of the astra—the little folk of legend, but they were just outlines, as though they were made of ice, and they were darting from tree trunk to tree trunk, almost as though they were part of some dance.”

  “Then that answers Fenling’s question. We aren’t alone. I don’t know if they’re dangerous, but we have company. And there may be other creatures lurking in the forest. We can’t assume that my brother is our only danger here.” Bran gestured for Quen to follow him. “Let’s make the rounds before it gets any darker. It’s going to be a long, cold night, but at least the tents and blankets are warm.”

  As the two men made the rounds, Fenling and I stoked the fire and cleaned the dishes. We’d finished the soup, so we filled the pot with snow and set it in the coals to boil off any crusted-on food particles.

  “How long before Karehl comes looking for us?” I asked.

  “As soon as he’s able,” Fenling said. “Bran’s right. Karehl won’t wait for us to find him. He’ll be on the move as soon as he can sense where we are. That means we play defense, rather than offense. In some ways, that gives us the edge. He’ll be so fixated on finding us that he’ll let his guard down. Karehl doesn’t stop to think. He just…does.”

  “Then, we hope for that. What do you think he’ll expect us to do?” I asked. “How does Karehl view Bran?”

  Fenling thought for a moment. “He underestimates Bran. Karehl’s ego won’t allow him to believe that Bran could be stronger or smarter. And that will work to our advantage, as well.”

  Bran and Quen returned. We gathered around the campfire.

  “I know they can’t possibly be here yet,” I said, “but…can you sense them near?”

  Bran shook his head. “No, and unless they get help from the forest spirits, I don’t expect to see them until day after tomorrow. Shall we discuss the hunt?”

  “To the death,” San said as he polished his dagger with a soft cloth. “That’s the only outcome. We’re in this until you or your brother dies. I don’t think there’s much to discuss.”

  “I know this is an obvious question,” I said. “But why a blood hunt? Why not battle it out in an arena?”

  Fenling placed a hand over mine. “This is the tradition of our people. We live for the chase. The Wolf People have always settled matters of this nature with a blood hunt, and we always will. It sings to our blood, our very souls.”

  I let out a long breath. “I can accept that, even if I don’t understand it.”

  “Good,” Bran said. “Because you belong to our people now, and when we marry, you’ll be expected to uphold these traditions with dignity, grace, and acceptance.” He caught my gaze. “Which I know you can—and will—do.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “Then, let me tell you everything I can think of about Karehl.” Bran paused. “He has a slight loss of hearing in his right ear. He was hit in the head when we were younger—a tree branch fell on him, and it caused some hearing issues. He also has a tendency to freeze when he’s startled—not for long, but if you see him before he sees you, that could give you an advantage. And seconds make a difference.”

  “I know we discussed this, but can you go over it again?” I asked. “Do you have to kill him? What if…say…San, or I find him first?”

  “The rules are simple but clear. The first to die—Karehl or me—marks the end of the hunt. It doesn’t matter who takes us. The four of you are part of me for this hunt. You’re my arms, my legs, my eyes and ears. The same for Karehl’s group.”

  “What happens to his men if we kill Karehl, but they’re still alive?” I asked.

  “They will be exiled to Swelan permanently. They’ll be watched closely for the rest of their lives but given a chance to settle in and become part of society. That goes for the four of you, if I’m killed. If I die, none of us—nor the Lorani back in the castle—will ever see Eleago again. But that would be just as well, given what Karehl would do to you if you returned to the castle.” Bran leaned back against a rock, staring at the fire. “This is a road I never expected to travel. I thought we’d escape here, gather our resources, and then return to attempt a coup.”

  “What did Borea say to change your mind?” Quen asked.

  “It wasn’t Borea, so much as Karina. The witch read my future. Unless Karehl dies, he’ll forever hunt us. All of us. We’ll never be free of his pursuit. He’ll destroy Eleago with his growing madness. And if we returned to the castle, he’ll destroy it to keep me from winning, regardless of how many lives he sacrifices.”

  “He’d destroy his own people to keep you from the throne?” Fenling asked. “That sounds about right.”

  Bran leaned forward. “Karehl’s truly going mad. And his madness will taint every aspect of our land. She predicted that he’ll eventually destroy the People of the Wolves. So, you see, so much more than my own life depends on this, and this is why I agreed to call a blood hunt. It’s the only way we’re guaranteed to face him.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As we sat in silence following Bran’s announcement, the sounds of the forest at night crept in. There’s a sound that snow made when it began to freeze into a layer of ice, a low harmonic tremor that rippled through the land, almost imperceptible to the naked ear. But it echoed like a low rumbling quake, small enough to not be sure if you really heard it, but big enough to unsettle.

  As the snow began to freeze over, the sky cleared and stars began to twinkle against the black backdrop of night. In the forest, a rustling sounded as snow broke off of trees. Some creature was crossing through the thicket. It sounded big, by the thump of its footsteps, but the cadence told me it was four-footed, not two, and it was alone, so it probably wasn’t Karehl.

  Every now and then, a bough snapped and fell off one of the trees, though most that were weak had already fallen. The forest felt massive and uncaring, and for the first time I felt like I wanted to go home—wherever home may be, to hide safely away from the elements. At first I tried to push the fear aside, but then I stopped and sat with it, letting it wash over me. Face your fears, my father used to tell me. If you bury them, they’ll attack you when you least expect it.

  So, I let the fear settle in my stomach, examining it. What was I afraid of? I’d hunted creatures all my life. I was used to the uncertainty, to the tension. I was used to being alone out in the forest. So, was the fear of facing Karehl? Or was it that the forest spooked me? I wasn’t sure, but my fears calmed as I let them have their say, and they began to pass rather than stay knotted up inside.

  As we sat there in silence, the fire crackled and the sparks lit up the air as they sizzled and popped. Bran looked deep in thought. Quen and San were tending to their weapons.

  Fenling yawned. “I’m tired. Shall we turn in and get an early start?”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But what are we going to do? Are we just going to wait for him to find us? Aren’t we going to do anything while we wait?”

  Bran cleared his throat. “Yes, we wait. But that doesn’t mean sitting around camp. Tomorrow morning we’ll explore the surrounding area. We need to memorize as much of the forest as possible. Sleep is a good idea. Quen, will you take first watch? San, second, and then wake me and I’ll take third.”

  Quen settled in on a stump, close enough to the fire to stay warm, but just uncomfortable enough to keep him awake. He placed his sword across his lap and continued to sip on his tea. Bran stood, holding out his hand to help me up. I let him draw me into his arms.

  “Thank you for coming,” he whispered. “I trust you in battle, and I trust you in my heart.”

  “Whatever happens, know that I love you.” I pressed my lips to his and kissed him, longing to hold him in my arms, in my bed. He kissed me back, his arms warm and strong, and the stone in my stomach took form and I suddenly understood what the fear actually was: I was terrified I’d lose him. I was afraid he’d fall, that Karehl would win, and that I’d spend the rest of my life mourning a love I’d never had a chance to fully explore.

  “Rest,” he said, letting go, but keeping his gaze focused on me. “All will be well. Keep light in your heart, my love. We need all the hope we can muster.”

  With that, I crawled into the tent with Fenling, and we burrowed under the thick covers. I expected to remain awake for hours, but within minutes, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Come morning, we boiled water for tea and had some bread, cheese, and dried meat. Then, Quen and I headed out to scout the trees around our campsite. Bran, Fenling, and San stayed back at the camp. We arranged for a certain whistle to indicate trouble, and then Quen and I rode to the tree line around the clearing, and entered the wood.

  “It’s amazing how difficult it is to keep track of where we are, when there’s no undergrowth between the trees,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It’s hard to see any landmarks when everything’s covered with snow.

  “That’s because the snowdrifts rise and fall, so it’s difficult to tell how deep the snow is in any one area. It all blends together in a massive blur. The sun reflecting off of the dunes doesn’t help matters, either, given it makes it hard to stare at without squinting,” Quen said.

  “What are we looking for? If it takes two days travel to reach us, we’re not going to find Karehl this morning,” I said.

  “We’re looking for anything that might affect the hunt. Any cave openings, rivers or streams, ravines…whatever we need to know about the topography.” Quen paused, then pointed to our right. “Look, there—that mound of snow isn’t just a drift. There’s something under it.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked. “I don’t…” I paused, as the mound began to shift. “What the hell?”

  “Freeze,” Quen said, pulling on the reins to stop his horse.

  We watched as the snow began to fall off something that had been buried beneath the snow. Whatever was there broke from beneath the chill blanket, rising up on two legs.

  “Holy…” I caught my breath as the creature—bipedal and as tall as three men high—broke free. Covered in fur, it had two arms and a head, but it was no human, nor ice giant, nor rock elemental. The creature was white as the snow itself, with eyes that glowed red, and it yawned, exposing massive teeth that glistened in the morning sun. It hadn’t noticed us yet, but it was so big that towered over us and our horses.

  My heart in my chest, I slowly reached for my bow, taking my time so as not to draw its attention. I wasn’t sure if it could hear us, so kept my mouth shut as I slid an arrow out of my quiver. Quen silently drew his sword. Yaran shifted and I patted him, hoping he would stay calm. But the next moment, the creature raised his head, sniffing the air, and swiftly turned toward us with a loud roar.

  “He sees us!” Quen said, trying to control his mount as the horse whinnied and reared up onto his back legs.

  Yaran let out a whinny and was about to rear up as well, but I pulled on the reins. “Calm, Yaran! Calm!”

  I’d trained my horse from when I was young to settle when we were around big game like bears. My father had set up practice runs in the forest, near to where he knew the bears were roaming, so that I would learn how to handle emergencies. Now, I whispered a prayer of thanks that he’d been so thorough with my training.

  Yaran shifted, but remained on all fours. As the creature headed our way, I took a deep breath and brought up my bow, quickly nocking the arrow as I aimed for where I imagined its heart might be. I let the arrow fly, immediately reaching for a second one.

  Quen’s horse bucked again, throwing him off. But Quen came up, sword in hand, as his horse sidestepped away.

  My first arrow lodged into the creature’s chest, piercing deep. Blood began to flow from the wound, staining it’s long clumps of fur, and the creature let out a loud shriek, flailing at the arrow, trying to knock it away.

  I took aim again and shot a second time. This time, the arrow struck the creature in the head, but by then, it was only a few steps away.

  I commanded Yaran to move, and we galloped out of the way. Quen was out of my reach, or I would have tried to sweep him up onto the back of my horse. But the creature was aiming for me—giving Quen the chance to chase after his horse. He managed to catch it, swinging into the saddle again. Holding the reins in one hand, and his sword in the other, he swung around and charged forward, his sword out. He galloped past the creature’s back, slashing with his sword, knocking the monster to his knees.

  I took the chance to nock another arrow, then quickly shot, hitting the creature’s head again. As I did so, Quen leaped off his horse and raced over behind the creature. He brought his sword up, but at that moment, the monster turned and swiped with one, long armed paw. He hit Quen across his arm, slicing deep with his claws.

  Quen ignored the wound, thrusting his sword into the creature’s chest. The next moment, the brute let out a loud roar, and collapsed forward, landing near Yaran’s feet. I stared at it for a moment, then looked over at Quen, who was bleeding, holding his arm as he sat in the snow.

  “Quen!” I slid off Yaran’s back, racing over to where he knelt. He groaned, bleeding with a steady flow from the three long gashes. I was wearing a scarf under the hood of my cloak, and now I pulled it off my head, wrapping it around Quen’s wounds. I whistled for his horse, and helped him up.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Not great,” Quen said, grunting. “I’ll live, but…” He winced. “I need to throw up.” He turned to the side and I braced him as he vomited. He grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth. “It’s the pain. I can’t believe how much this hurts.”

  “Let’s get you back to camp. We aren’t that far away,” I said, helping him over to his horse. I boosted him up into the saddle, and he leaned forward with a groan, trying to hold the reins with one hand. I took them from him and, swinging back into my saddle, I turned, leading his mount behind me.

  As I navigated our way back to the campsite, I kept my eyes open for any other creatures like the one we had just fought. I had no clue what it was, but questions flew through my mind—did they travel in packs, or were they solitary? Was there venom in the claws? This was the second time I’d saved Quen and I hoped that he’d heal up like he had the first time.

  Finally, I saw the mark we’d left on a tree where we’d turned left after we came through the treeline. I quickly turned right, and there, not far ahead, was the campsite. As I rode into camp, Bran and Fenling jumped up.