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He stays completely still and I mimic him without question. Dessin plans a lot of things but couldn’t plan for this. We’re going to die here, aren’t we?
“Skylenna,” he murmurs while slowly reaching for something to his left. “On my word, I want you to scream at the top of your lungs. Like your life depends on it. Because it does.”
I’m about to object, but I see he’s reaching for a tree branch, thick in size, about the girth of his thigh. I can’t question him now. This is one of those times where I need to have complete and utter faith in Dessin.
The growling increases and I can see now why it’s taken time for this massive beast to attack. His foot is gone. He must have gotten it caught in the trap and ripped it out.
Suddenly, the growl turns into a cat’s hiss, and I know that must mean it’s about to do something. Run or fight. Please let it mean run.
“Scream, Skylenna!”
I do as I’m told. I could have shattered windows and wineglasses and destroyed eardrums with this scream. It’s shrill and dry and traveling a great distance out of this hole. The nadaskar lunges at Dessin with its one leg, and Dessin swings the tree branch straight into the amputee’s leg. It shrieks but this only angers it. It lunges at us again, this time I’m certain Dessin won’t be able to stop it from crushing us.
Faster than I can blink, a rush of black smoke flashes across my vision and tackles the nadaskar to the ground. Another animal. A hellhound.
And they’re a tangled mess of snapping teeth, blood, and vicious growls that have reached a new level of feral. But I recognize the russet spots of fur. The RottWeilen that has come for me once again. Only this time, he knew he needed to attack.
DAISZEK! IT’S DAISZEK! HE’S SAVING US!
The hole suddenly smells of death massacring a farm of cattle. Entrails spilling over the muddy floor. Bones crunching. And I look up at Dessin who is now lifting me off the ground.
“Wrap your arms around my neck and keep your body stiff,” he demands. I do as he says, still unable to tear my eyes away from the mass of dark fur. I hear the nadaskar scream along with another noise of ripping flesh from bone.
Dessin hooks an arm under my knees and begins to climb us out of the hole. Thankfully, there are large curly roots striking out of the walls of the hole for him. He makes each movement seem effortless, climbing with another human in your arms is as easy as walking to the kitchen. I lean my head against the side of his temple.
As we get to the top, he lets me pull myself from his arms onto the surface. I sit up and hold my ankle. The gushing of blood has slowed down but there are shreds of my skin hanging off and I think I might throw up.
Dessin looks down at me, pulls his shirt off, and uses it to wrap around my ankle. “Just don’t look at it. I’ll patch it up when we get out of here.” But I’m not focused on that. This is the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt and it is glorious. His pectorals are two firm hills over his chest. He has a faint yet definite lining of six muscle ridges. His eyes are on me and oh my God, I’m gawking.
A yelp breaks this moment from growing awkward. We both look back at the hole but there is silence. “DaiSzek!” I yell. “Oh, Dessin! Is he okay?”
Dessin leans over the hole to look down and that’s when I see his back. His back without a shirt. I’m briefly mortified. Burns across his shoulder blades in the size and shape of a picket from a wooden fence.
I lean in to get a better look.
But DaiSzek leaps from the hole, graceful like a deer stepping over a puddle. Blood covers his chin and nose. I shriek.
“Is he hurt?!” I touch the side of his face. He merely pants like he’s just got done chasing a squirrel.
Dessin has his hands all over him, examining his entire body, then slaps his butt.
“Who taught you how to fight like that, nadaskar slayer?” He’s beaming at DaiSzek. Okay, no injuries. DaiSzek starts to wiggle his butt, honored by Dessin’s approval. “I mean, I probably could have taken it on my own, but wow, you really did a number down there!” He glances over his shoulder again, down at what probably is a mess of blood and fur and body parts.
“So, he’s not hurt?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, this was an easy feat for him,” he states, gazing at DaiSzek now sitting down proudly.
I nod. “Good. Good.” Then, tip my head over the side of the hole and vomit. A lot.
10. “I must keep you in the dark.”
His chest smells like cedar and the forest before a storm passes through.
I breathe him in as he carries me to a place where my ankle can be assessed. There is no central point of pain anymore; the throb stems from the tips of my toes reaching up to my thigh. It clenches around my bone like an iron fist covered in thorns. My head starts to pound each time Dessin takes a step. Skinny daggers puncturing my brain at the beat of my pulse.
As we get closer to the North Saphrine Forest, the chill in the air grows. Dessin even stops to bundle me up in both my winter coat and his. I refused to take his only source of warmth, especially since he gave up his shirt to bandage my ankle, but he insisted the cold didn’t bother him. He spent more time educating me about how the human brain can actually control the body in a way so that we can adjust our body temperatures to adapt to any environment. With or without a coat. It just takes more concentration and focus than the average human can handle. And he is most certainly not average.
“That hole wasn’t there by accident, was it?”
