Twelve
The next week passed in an exhausting haze of walking, shifting, and more walking. It didn’t matter where we looked—there were no more witches to be found after we had stumbled across Farran and her sisters. Benedict thrummed with impatience, his irritation putting everyone else on edge. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was other than the obvious—we hadn’t found any blood witches yet or come any closer to solving the problem of how to find them if they were taken by the Overlord. The mountains loomed closer, each step we took bringing us closer to the demon hordes, yet no closer to answers.
“We need to decide soon when to abandon our wandering and try something else,” Astrid prodded, glancing up at the foreboding mountains in the distance.
“Any ideas?” Benedict snapped nastily, but Astrid ignored him. As we all had done the past few days.
“Other than getting captured and taken—” Benedict hissed, and Meruse lost her temper. Her whip was free from her holster a second later, cracking in the air as she snapped it a hair's breadth from Benedict’s face.
“Tell us what the matter is or stop sulking like a child.”
“That would be an affront to children,” I added, my own frustration getting the better of me.
Benedict’s mouth opened in betrayal, then his eyes widened. He whipped around, and a bush about fifty yards away from us rustled softly. Meruse got there first, snarling as she shredded the bush with her whip. No one was there. A soft chirping call filled the air, and the trees around us shook in answer. Kieran and Benedict flanked me, ready.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Something we should keep an eye out for,” Meruse said grumpily, shoving her whip back into its compartment.
“Who lives out here if there aren’t blood witches?” I had thought perhaps the rustling had finally been one, caught spying on us.
“There are other races that lived near these mountains—in them, as a matter of fact.” Meruse stated, her eyes still darting all around us.
“Who?” I pressed, but no one met my eyes.
“I suspect you will meet one sooner rather than later,” Kieran finally offered, his eyes watching Benedict carefully.
“Kieran, I swear—" I growled.
“Mountain men,” Ronan said quickly, eyes flitting to Kieran then away again. I wrinkled my nose, hardly thinking that a real answer at all. Benedict started running, then took off into the air, no doubt to do another aerial scan of the area.
“Men? As in humans?”
The others didn’t seem to find this topic as interesting as me, instead lending their focus to setting up camp for the night.
“Should we camp here if we suspect we’re being watched?” I seemed to be the last one to know we were potentially being followed.
“We’ve been watched these past two nights—it won’t matter where we camp.”
I whipped around, surprise lifting my brows as Astrid easily convinced two trees to bend forward with the air, their thick foliage forming a natural shelter on the ground.
“Lovely. Shall I prepare dinner with the meager scraps that are left?” I said smartly, irritated at being left out of the loop yet again.
“No need.” Benedict landed roughly behind me, grunting as his feet hit the ground hard. A freshly slain deer was across his shoulders, and he slung it to the ground. I sniffed.
“Skin it and I’ll cook it.” I offered, then stomped away with my nose in the air. Benedict’s dark gaze followed me, but Kieran just laughed.
“It’s moments like these where I’m reminded how perfect she is for you.”
I pretended I didn’t hear him but did whirl around as another thought occurred to me.
“AND YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE KIERAN SKIN IT!”
Kieran’s laughter drifted over to me, and Astrid paused from scanning the horizon to roll her eyes. My questions would have to wait for another time.
I awoke amidst shouting, Kieran and Benedict already in the air. I stumbled, tripping over one of the supply packs and falling on my face. I ignored the pain, flaring my wings and flapping hurriedly to try and join them. The shouts weren’t coming from us, or the fire witches. A group of wild looking men were fleeing from us as fast as they could, their long, brown hair flying behind them.
“Mountain men,” Meruse hissed, spitting blood from her split lip onto the ground. Benedict dove from the sky, dangling a terrified man by one arm. He slammed the man into the ground, his back hitting the earth with a thud. The man lay stunned, the wind knocked out of him.
“They went for the witches and ran when they saw us.”
Meruse snorted as Astrid rolled her eyes.
“Yes, because us poor womenfolk are so unable to protect ourselves.”
I ignored them.
“Did they know you were witches?”
Farran sent a small ball of flame at the man’s feet, watching in glee as he shrieked in fear.
“He does now.”
She readied her hands for more flames, but something in the back of my mind was shouting, no screaming for attention.
“Wait.” I held out a hand. Farran hissed but didn’t take another step towards the wild man. His dark, brown hair was dreadlocked, but with none of the braids, adornments, or care the sea witches used. His clothing was rough and poorly made, as if its owner didn’t have the time or means to simply sit and sew. His wild eyes were brown, as well as his skin. Everything about him was brown, just like—
“Georg.”
Benedict and the wild man jerked, snapping their gazes to me. The man said something, frantic and guttural in a language I didn’t understand. He reached for me, but Benedict kicked him down to the ground, one foot pressing painfully on the wild man’s chest. I remembered what Georg had said, though it seemed like years ago.
“Benedict found me, said my parents were killed by a band of lykos. My mom hid me in a pile of leaves. I’m from the mountain folk that surround this range. We used to
