the time she finished, her hand trembled once again. Overwhelmed with these inexplicable feelings—why him?— she sprang to her feet to leave.
The sound of movement froze her in place. The sun had nearly set and she could barely see the shadows of two men as they approached the far side of the battlefield.
“Could be the Romans,” Niko whispered. He staggered to his feet and, in no condition to fight again, limped several paces into the dark woods, gesturing at Cassandra to follow.
They peered around a boulder and watched the men, who apparently hadn’t noticed them, as they slowly picked their way through the dead bodies, just as Cassandra had done. Not healers looking for signs of life, though, nor Roman soldiers. They must have been savages here to pillage the bodies.
They stopped at the man with the dark hair and beard who had barely been breathing. They crouched next to him and exchanged words too low for her to hear. Then one bent closer, held his hand over the dying man’s mouth and seemed to whisper into his ear. The soldier’s arms flailed and his body bucked, as if in pain.
Cassandra gasped. Niko clamped his hand over her mouth.
“They’re giving him a quicker death,” he whispered in her ear. “Putting him out of his misery.”
Before long, the soldier fell limp against the other man, who wiped the inside of his forearm across his mouth, then held it to the dead man’s lips. Cassandra peered at Niko, whose brows knitted together, looking just as perplexed as she felt. After several moments, the two men stood and found the only other person who’d shown any signs of life—the youth with the twisted body. This time the second man stooped down and pressed his mouth against the boy’s ear. Or was it his throat? Cassandra couldn’t discern in the darkness. The youth reacted the same way as the first. They repeated their unusual ritual, then the two men left the way they’d come, leaving any loot behind.
“I’ve never seen—” Cassandra started to say, but couldn’t put words to what they’d just witnessed. It was too strange.
“Perhaps it’s a local tradition to send the dead down the River Styx,” Niko said. “I’ve never seen it before. But, I’ve never been left at the field for dead, either.”
She looked up at him. “How could your comrades leave you anyway? They couldn’t have thought you dead.”
He shrugged. “I think I was unconscious, so perhaps they thought I was. I remember a blow to my head … and then you standing next to me. But my men will be back, very soon I’m sure. I’ll be fine until then. As much as I’d rather you not, you should probably go home, before darkness falls completely.”
Cassandra pursed her lips together, internally debating whether to leave him or not, then finally nodded. After giving Niko her last skins of water and receiving more assurances from him that he’d be fine, she hurried through the woods and across the fields in the twilight. She thought Father would be worried, but he was already asleep by the time she walked through the door of their hut. They had lived like nomads her entire life, always in the wilderness, sometimes in caves, sometimes in huts built by Father. He was a strong, vibrant man and usually didn’t turn in so early. He must have had a long day. He’s just tired. She refused to think it could be anything else.
She tended the fire to keep them warm for the night and ate the last of the morning’s bread with the berries she’d collected before she’d come upon the battlefield. She hoped Jordan, her brother, would return with supplies soon—they had enough grain and oil for only another day or two. She lay down in her bed of furs and stared at the fire without seeing it. Niko’s face filled her vision.
She worried about him in the woods by himself, injured. She told herself it was a minor injury and he was a soldier, that he could take care of himself. His men will find him. He’s fine. Stop thinking about him. She finally dozed off but slept fitfully. Dreams of wild animals and Roman soldiers attacking Niko haunted her sleep. She awoke before dawn and knew, before she even opened her eyes, she would go back to check on him.
Father still snored and she took advantage of the opportunity to sneak out and back to the battlefield. She followed the light of the full moon that still hung high in the sky, skirting the woods this time. The darkness within them frightened her. Animals would be on the hunt and from the sounds, not all were small creatures. The cracks of large branches breaking made her believe something in there was big enough to eat her. But she refused to turn back. Her concern for Niko outweighed her fear.
When she approached the tree she’d left him under, though, her heart sank. He was nowhere around. She took a few timid steps farther into the woods, peering into the darker areas where he might have found better shelter, but no sign of him existed at all. Not even blood or any indication of a struggle.
She blew out an exasperated breath. After hours of nightmares and little sleep, she’d worried for nothing. His comrades must have returned and taken him back to their camp. Relief that he was safe finally washed through her, followed by a twinge of disappointment. She’d been hoping, more than she’d realized, she’d see him again.
She looked out at the battlefield, expecting to find fewer bodies. If they’d come for Niko, surely they’d taken their dead, as well. But the shadows of the bodies in the pre-dawn darkness seemed to show the same scene she’d left last evening. Then they’ll be returning soon. Which meant she needed to leave.
As she turned, someone in the middle of the battlefield suddenly sat up. A surprised gasp escaped her throat and the man turned his head toward her, the moon’s light illuminating his face. Her eyes widened. She recognized him: the dark bearded man the other two had mercifully killed.
As he stood up, so did another. The boy. The one whose legs and back had been so twisted and broken, he couldn’t possibly be alive. But there he stood.
Both soldiers sniffed the air in her direction and let out a feral growl. Then they started toward her, their legs and bodies jerking clumsily, as if re-learning how to walk.
Cassandra’s throat worked hard to swallow the lump in it. “Can I … can I help you?”
They continued lurching toward her. As they came closer and she could see their faces more clearly, her heart raced even harder. Instead of brown or green or any normal eye color, theirs were red. And glowing.
“Thirsty,” the boy said, his voice too old and broken for such a young face.
“Need … blood,” the man croaked. His hand clutched at his throat while the other reached out, as if to grasp her shoulder though they were still several paces away.
Hunger flared in both of their eyes and their upper lips lifted, revealing teeth that looked more like an animal’s than a human’s.
Cassandra cried out. Then she spun around and ran.
Their halting footsteps pounded behind her. She imagined feeling their ragged breaths on her neck, though she had too much of a lead to truly feel it. But her peplos slowed her down, the ankle-length tunic twisting around her legs. She glanced over her shoulder once. The soldiers were gaining on her, their awkwardness seeming to fall away with each step they took.
Not caring how inappropriate it was, she hitched the bottom of her peplos to her thighs, freeing her legs. She dug her feet into the ground and sprang forward as hard as she could. She knew she ran faster than most people—speed was one of her family’s unusual abilities—but she couldn’t outrun these … these undead men.
A hand brushed against her shoulder and she screamed. She cut sharply to her right and tore through the woods, forgetting her earlier fear of the beasts that roamed within. She had worse worries now. She thought. Something crashed through the trees to her right. She glanced over to see yellow eyes and a mouth of sharp teeth bounding through the woods next to her, keeping her pace. It suddenly veered left, cutting her off.
She skidded to a halt, dirt and leaves spraying in the air. A wolf taller than her stood in her path, its hackles raised and its lips pulled back from teeth longer than her index finger. Its yellow eyes burned into her with a wild hunger and a line of drool hung from its fang. The two men … creatures … whatever they were … slowed their steps behind her, whether because they feared the wolf or thought they had her trapped, she didn’t know.
The animal growled. The men hissed. Cassandra spun to her left and took off running again. She broke through the edge of the woods into a clearing near home, jaws snapping right behind her. The sky had lightened considerably with the coming dawn but, looking over her shoulder at the three beasts chasing her, she didn’t see the looming figure in front of her. She grunted with the collision, the body hard and unmoving as she slammed into it.
