Nothing.
Seconds seep into minutes that feel like a small eternity, and I cock my head to the side, curiosity peeking from my shadows. Slowly, tentatively, I thread my hand into the space between us—reaching.Threatening to tangle my fingers with its smoggy murk.
It makes a sharp sound that flips my heart as it darts back, pausing.
The corner of my mouth kicks up ...
It’s not going to eat me.
Ijog down the trail, mud splattering up my calves, knapsack smacking my hip in rhythm with my thundering heart. The three hollow presences flit around me like a churn of restless spirits.
Almost as if they’replaying.
Swiping sodden hair from my eyes, I give in to the reckless laugh popping up my throat, setting free a raw,happysound that feels foreign on my tongue.
Though the rain has stopped, my clothes still cling to me like a second skin by the time the floodlit village comes into view between the trees. My feet slow with the Irilak’s easing spin as I edge toward the light, grip tightening on the mug-o’-bells held close to my chest.
I pause.
A deluge of men have spilled out into the mud and collected around a large circle of lanterns—a fighting ring for the two shirtless brutes that are bouncing on their toes, shooting little jabs while the raucous crowd chants, slurs, and hollers from just outside the staked line.
“Crap,” I mutter.
I could pick a path around the village perimeter and sneak in through a different access point. Or I guess I could ...blend inand walk straight past them all, pretending I didn’t just emerge from the jungle with no lantern to protect me from the supposedly vicious creatures chasing my every step.
The thought spikes my blood with adrenaline, making my heart hammer as another chorus of slurred shouts echo through the night …
They’re all too drunk to notice me, anyway.
Dropping to a kneel, I lower my bun so it’s sitting at my nape, similar to how the men wear theirs. I scoop some mud and smear it across my cheeks, then look over my shoulder at my small adoptive pack hovering uncertainly at the fringe of light.
I give them an awkward wave.
The baby flicks forward—like it got jolted with a spark of curiosity—swiftly corralled by the largest one, who rushes it into the thick pall of shadow.
Gone.
Slouching a little, digging one hand deep into my pocket while practicing my man-walk, I step into the light, the mug tucked close to my side as I trudge around the fractious throng, keeping my eyes down.
A meaty thud makes me wince, and I slip between the shelter of the two tall buildings.
The rain appears to have emptied the courtyard entirely, allowing me to cut a swift, silent path toward Blue Hollow Inn. I’m nearing the alleyway that leads to my lodgings when a roll of rusty laughter has me backing up against the wall.
Listening.
A giggle chimes in, and I curse, peeking around the corner.
A woman clothed in scraps of blue, back cushioned by fluffy greenery that’s twisted through the trellis I climbed down earlier, throws her head back as the man holding her in place drags the front of her bodice down, spilling her plump breasts.
I whip my gaze away and climb it up said trellis to my washroom window on the second floor ...
What unfortunate timing.
Her giggle melts into a moan, snapping my attention to the man’s hand roaming up the bare length of her leg that’s hooked around his waist. He grabs a healthy handful of her equally bare ass, and something deep inside me clenches.
Aches.
She undoes the front of his trousers, fingers nimble, frantic as she drives them down the front of him. Her shoulder drops, elbow finding a deep beat, and then it’shewho has his head thrown back while she pumps—again, and again, and again.
