Panicking, she presses her hand against the wall to navigate the twisting passage through the mountain. The ceiling becomes higher again, but the walls close in on her, making it difficult to put distance between herself and the owner of the scream.
Every squeeze through the passage, every inch forward, brings her closer to an escape from the mountain and the pursuer.
“Is it far?” Rachel asks.
Ziggy doesn’t answer.
Rachel looks back into the darkness, unable to make out much of anything, but her imagination is more than willing to create monstrous creatures rushing after her.
Her slow progress pays off when the passage opens and sunlight becomes visible from the cave’s entrance.
Relief. She’s overcome with gratitude from getting out of the claustrophobic situation in one piece.
“Thank heavens.” Rachel steps into the early morning sunlight, raising her head and closing her eyes. She basks in the warmth shining down on her.
A large hand suddenly clamps down over her mouth, muffling her scream. An arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back against a large body. Thick fingers dig into her prone flesh and tired muscles.
“Apologies, but if that prissy Fae allowed us to have our spoils, he would have spared you this dishonor,” the man says behind her.
She thrashes wildly against her assailant.
“Now, now,” he purrs, one hand roving across her body. “You wouldn’t have been my first choice either. Settle down and I’ll make this quick.”
He roughly forces her around and pushes her face-first into the mountainside, slamming the air out of her lungs. He leans hard into her back, trapping her against the wall, that one hand kneading her breast all the while.
She breathes hard through her nose, the fear of what’s to come sending waves of panic through her body.
No.
Rachel kicks back with her heel into his shin with as much force as she can, disregarding the painful blisters bursting from the impact. The male’s shout of pain is enough to encourage her to fight with more vigor.
She twists out of his hold and looks down at the man.
The burly soldier with beady black eyes is somewhere in his twenties, she guesses, and his dark-brown hair is sheared short against his scalp. He’s dressed in a black uniform with twin red deer embroidered on his lapels. So, that probably meant Orion was the “prissy Fae.” His ears are pointed, but not as elongated. And there’s a nasty scar running across his throat, like he’d either been cut or survived a hanging.
He roars as he stomps closer to her, arms outspread.
Ziggy appears, and crashes straight into her assailant’s face, effectively blinding him.
His face turns red as he battles against Ziggy’s assault, the Fae light weaving in and out of the man’s reach in expert, choppy movements. Wherever Ziggy touches him, angry red welts form on his skin. Blisters pop up, encircling the burns.
Yeah, her Fae light doesn’t take nonsense from anyone.
As Ziggy keeps her attacker busy, Rachel scans the area, searching for an escape.
The vegetation of the vast plateau within the mountain range mainly consists of grass and trees, but from the look of things, there isn’t much in the way of hiding places. There is a saddled horse grazing nearby, which is enough of a sign to get her to move again. She runs to the horse and, thanking her stars that she’s had some lessons when it came to riding the animals, finds the stirrup. Rachel quickly gets on top of the steed and grabs hold of the reins.
With a click of her tongue, the horse trots forward, before gradually moving into a gallop.
“Ziggy, we’re leaving,” Rachel shouts over her shoulder as the horse picks up speed. She’s still reeling over the close call. If he’d been stronger, if Ziggy hadn’t been there to help her ... “Ziggy!”
A few worried beats later, the Fae light flits past her, crisscrossing ahead.
Rachel chances a glance to the Fae they’d left behind, her assailant reduced to a heap in the dirt, face burned and hands scorched. She swiftly averts her gaze, grimacing, almost feeling guilty.
“Is he dead?”
Ziggy flashes twice.
“Pity.”
She steers the horse well away from both the unknown threat in the mountain, as well as the man who’d assaulted her, before slowing to an easy trot.
Ziggy floats closer to her side.
“Was that guy human?” Rachel asks, although she doubts it. “His ears were pointy, but short, so—”
Two flashes.
Rachel frowns. “Halfling?”
Ziggy flickers once.
“Stupid Halfling,” she whispers, stifling a sob. She fishes the brass compact mirror out of her pocket and opens it in her palm. Rachel studies the obsidian surface closely, discerning an arch-like feature, seemingly looming over a thinning forest. “This one won’t be too difficult to find.” She pushes herself up on the stirrups and scans the region again.
Rachel points in the direction of a smooth peak above tall trees, merely a tip visible, but the surface gleams wherever the sun touches it.
They change direction. Ziggy takes the lead, while Rachel steers the horse behind him.
“I should probably give you a name,” she says to the horse, brushing the white and brown mane. It’s the best she can do to keep her mind from wandering to the assault. “Something neutral, yes?”
Up front, Ziggy flashes once.
“What about Blair?”
The horse whinnies, as if saying, “I’d rather visit a glue factory,” while Ziggy flashes twice in disagreement.
“Tough crowd. Okay, let’s try something more cultured. How about Tolstoy?”
Ziggy immediately flickers twice, dims, and then flashes twice again.
“There’s just no pleasing you.”
Rachel passes the time by running through a list of names, all of which Ziggy hates. At times, the horse would make its thoughts known with either a neigh or a snort, but generally didn’t seem too invested in the conversation.
“Journey?”
Ziggy doesn’t immediately answer her proposal. Then, just when she thinks the Fae light’s grown bored with the game, it flashes once.
“I’ve got one nod of approval. What say you?” Rachel leans forward in the saddle and brushes the horse’s muscular neck. “Do you like the name
