Hamish shrugged. “That’s the Goddess’ Hook.”
“A name like that sounds to me like something with a legend tied to it.”
“Aye.” As old as the land itself. He turned to face the view, his heart skipping when Darshan sidled up to him, his face practically aglow with interest. “Do you really want to hear the story? It’s a long one.” And Gordon told it far better, but his brother wasn’t nearby and probably wouldn’t be inclined to crash through the brush just to tell the tale.
“I do not mind lingering here whilst you tell it, especially when staying includes such a magnificent view.” He grinned rakishly, one brow arching as he gently elbowed Hamish in the side. “And the sunset is quite marvellous, too.”
Heat flooded Hamish’s face, even as he rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re comfortable, because it really is a long story. Starts a long way back.”
“That suits me fine, really.” Darshan ran his fingers up and down the underside of Hamish’s forearm, the caressing touch faint through the thick woollen sleeve. “I could listen to your voice all night.”
“M-me—?” He clamped his mouth shut before making a bigger fool of himself. His voice was no different to anyone else’s in Tirglas. Not especially deep like his father’s or even close to the soft, melodic tone of Darshan’s. Having his lover listening to him drone would likely put the man to sleep. “It’s nae as long a story as that,” he promised.
“Pity,” Darshan breathed. “Although I am certain you could draw it out.”
His face was already hot enough to rival the sun. Any warmer and he would melt. Try as he might, he struggled to think straight. Breathe. If he was going to tell any sort of story, being able to talk with some semblance of sense would be a must. He coughed in an attempt to clear his throat. “Like I said,” he rambled. “Back before there was earth, there was the Goddess.”
Darshan smiled, those hazel eyes glittering like a child at a festival. “A creation myth.” The words practically purred with his delight. “I thought as much. They stopped telling them back home, too many contradictions.” He clasped Hamish’s knee, all but climbing him to get closer. “Do go on.”
“All right,” Hamish mumbled. He was going to keep things brief, but he had a suspicion that, even if he tried, his lover would tug every piece Hamish remembered free. “But next time you want to hear a legend, you can ask me brother.”
The sun had all but set by the time they left the cliff edge, only a thin crescent remained to light the sky a brilliant pink. Hamish glanced over his shoulder as he stepped beneath the trees. It was a shame to leave the last vestiges of daylight unwatched, but Darshan’s shivering body necessitated they return to camp.
They could’ve lingered had he asked for his lover to heat the air around them, but the man had already done so much. And his own grumbling stomach needed more than a few crumbs to sate it.
Under the trees, darkness already reigned. His lover took the lead, holding a small globe of light aloft to illuminate the forest, whilst Hamish practically travelled at his hip to search for the marks he’d made and point out the direction. Not that he needed to indicate much for large chunks of the way, what with the path Darshan had cut through the bushes earlier.
Hamish eyed the globe of light during those times. It shone like a miniature sun, hovering just above Darshan’s outstretched hand with no other apparent connection to the spellster, yet put out no heat like the flame the man had shown the children the other day. He wished he had known the spellster was capable of such things before they had left camp, then he could’ve alerted the others.
The light of a campfire broke through the undergrowth. Hamish tapped his lover on the shoulder. “You may want to put that out.” He pointed to the globe. Entering camp like this was likely to have them full of holes from the guards’ bows before they could be recognised. “Safety’s sake.”
Darshan said nothing, but the globe dimmed and vanished.
They stumbled through the rest of the bush in the dark, with only the campfire to guide them. After their seemingly brief jaunt through the clearly-lit bush, traversing the rest of the way had the feeling of an age passing.
Eventually, Hamish broke through the last of the trees with Darshan on his heels.
Four tents took up much of the clearing. Despite his brother’s words on not setting it up for him, Hamish’s tent squatted amongst the others. Whilst big enough to sleep two people, Gordon had stopped sharing the space with him after one too many nights of being jostled awake by what his brother had dramatically referred to as the demons struggling to escape via the portal in Hamish’s mouth. I dinnae snore that bad.
Regardless, Gordon insisted on bunking alongside one of the guards—usually Zurron—whilst the other two also shared a tent. That left the fourth tent for Darshan. He hadn’t seen it packed, but it looked to be the same one Gordon used when he took his daughter camping. It was a tiny thing, considered as being more suited for a child, but the spellster should fit.
Darshan sniffed as they neared the campfire. “What is that smell?”
On impulse, Hamish also inhaled. The vaguely meaty aroma of mushrooms greeted his senses, almost hiding the less pungent scent of turnips. He savoured the smell, peering into the pot at the bubbling brown liquid. Bits of chopped vegetables and fungi bobbed in the
