During the week, we caught and fed on some wraiths we discovered at an old cemetery, but another hunger festered inside me. However, Aisling was still determined we get to know each other better, and so we were.
We rarely took breaks, but when we did, we asked each other random questions. I knew her birthday was March fourteenth, she was a Pisces, her favorite color was green, she hated blueberries, loved Pearl Jam, and her favorite book wasOf Mice and Men. In return, she knew my birthday was September first,which made me a Virgo. She also knew my favorite color was red, I hated popcorn, loved hard rock, despised disco, and there were too many good books to have a favorite.
“Favorite place in the world?” Aisling asked as she slid her leg over the back of a hellhound. She winced as she stretched her back while walking in a circle and shaking out her legs.
I climbed off my hound and restrained a wince when my legs protested the movement. I felt saddle sore despite the fact there were no saddles on the beasts. When Aisling ambled closer to me, I rested my hand on her elbow and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Does inside you count?”
A blush crept up her cheeks before she laughed. “No, it doesn’t.”
Being this close to her without being able to have her was a torture fit for the depths of Hell.
“Favorite place,” she prodded.
“Before the war, my stepdad built me a treehouse in our backyard. I’d spend hours in it reading, playing with friends, and making sure my sisters stayed out. That fort was my second home. Your favorite place?”
A wistful look came over her face as she brushed back a strand of loose hair and tucked it behind her ear. Longing to be her fingers, I followed every move she made like a starving man gazing at a banquet.
“Home,” she murmured. “Something I never thought I’d say. Travelingeverywherewas always my dream, but I would give anything to wake up to the smell of my mom cooking breakfast again.”
Unable to resist, I rested my hand against her nape and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “If you’ll let me, I’ll give you a home one day.”
Her fingers encircled my wrist as she leaned into me. Being this close to her was both torture and bliss. She pricked my hunger and drove the canagh part of me crazy, but strangely, she also calmed me.
The funny thing was, no matter how badly I desired her, this getting to know her aspect was fun. The more I learned about her, the more I liked her. We had our differences—she disliked horror movies, never liked sports, and was sacrilegious in her belief that disco music was good—but they were differences we laughed about as we argued over them.
I found myself growing to like her more with every passing day, and when she smiled, I found myself smiling with her. She didn’t laugh often, but when she did, it was a clear, beautiful sound that made me smile.
“This is fresh.”
Wren’s words drew my attention away from Aisling and back toward the reason why we stopped. Wren stood before an arrow carved into the trunk of a pine tree. The arrow pointed east through the forest.
Over the years, the Wilders developed a universal language. They kept it simple so each group would understand what another group was trying to tell them. During our time in the Wilds, we’d all learned to use and read the language. Caim hadn’t dated this marking, probably because he didn’t have time, but a date wasn’t necessary as fresh sap leaked from the tree.
“We should proceed on foot.” Bale shot a look at the hounds. “It won’t do us any good to be run into a tree while trying to sneak up on the horsemen.”
I swear the hounds grinned at her as their tongues lolled from their mouths. They could tear a horseman to shreds, but they looked as innocent as a puppy.
“Come on,” Corson said. “Hopefully we find Caim soon.”
He took Wren’s hand, and they started into the woods together; Bale and Lix followed. When I held my hand out to Aisling, she didn’t hesitate before taking it. When she moved closer, I caught the scent of the woods we’d traveled through and something sweeter beneath the aroma.
I couldn’t quite place the fragrance, but a memory of my home in Falmouth came to mind. My sisters and I stood by some bushes as I picked berries from them so they wouldn’t poke themselves on the thorns. The red berries were round in our hands and squirted juice in our mouths when we bit on them.
Raspberries, I recalled with a smile. Aisling smelled like raspberries.
Releasing her hand, I pushed a branch out of her way. She ducked the next limb and sidestepped a log while she glided through the trees. Sunlight danced across the ground as it filtered in and out of the trees surrounding us, and a steep hill rose before us.
I didn’t know what state we were in, but we were on the outskirts of a mountain chain. The leaves on the trees had all turned burnt orange, red, and yellow. A lot of them had fallen, but some floated on the air as the wind swept them from the boughs.
If we continued to chase the horsemen into the mountains, we would run into a problem when the weather turned, but if we were closing in on Caim, that meant the horsemen were nearby. We’d find them and get out of here before we had to worry about the cold and snow.
Aisling stopped and pulled a red leaf from her hair before inspecting it. She tilted her head back to the sky and inhaled a deep breath as she closed her eyes against the rays dancing over her beautiful face. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her serene expression.
Then she lowered her head and opened her eyes. Flames burst out of her palms, and the leaf turned to ashes, which she scattered from her fingertips. Every time we stopped for a break, she worked on her ability.
“It’s getting stronger,” she said to me before starting up the hill again.
“It is,” I agreed.
