I shake my head back and forth. My wet hair tugs against where it’s trapped by his arms. “No, we don’t have time. I’ll be fine. I can start a fire and change my clothes. We need to get this done tonight.” When my teeth chatter even louder, Lachlan scoffs at me.
“Your lips are turning blue,” he mutters.
“O-only because you’re s-squeezing me.”
He rolls his eyes and sets me down on my feet. Pain lashes down my calf and I have to bite down on my cheek to keep from crying out. If I show any sign of injury, he will turn this boat around.
I wrap the silver pelt around me to keep the tear in my pants and the blood trickling from sight. I just hope it doesn’t seep into the light fur too much and become noticeable.
“I’ll pull as close as I can to that landing point,”—Lachlan points at a sandy cove in the fjord near us—“but you’ll have to wade a part of the way with the horse.”
I nod, hiding my leg from his sight as I slip the pelt off and stuff it into the bag before loading the pack onto the horse’s back in hopes it’ll stay dry. Lachlan leads the horse to the opening in the side railing and gives it a slap on its haunch.
The horse leaps into the water and I sigh in relief when the pack doesn’t get submerged. I take a step toward the opening and grimace. Lachlan’s eyes narrow, but I jump in before he can ask. Arctic water comes up to my chest, but it’s much easier to swim than to put weight on my leg and wade through it. Salt burns my torn skin and I hold my breath to keep from crying.
The horse makes it to the sandy shore first and when I claw my way out of the water, I’m almost numb from the pain and temperature. I roll onto my back, watching the final dregs of sunlight sink below the water. My chest heaves alongside my racing heart. There’s no way I’m this out of breath from that short of a swim.
The injury must be zapping my strength. I try to force myself to stand but crumple from the pain. Fuck. I crawl to where the horse stands. Sand sticks to my wet hands and clothes. I push myself up on one leg, doing my best to keep the weight off the injured one. I hobble to the forest edge to tie the horse up.
Unstrapping the pack from its back, I pull out the separate bag stashed with extra clothes and boots and begin peeling mine off. The horse flicks its ears, but stands much calmer on the shore than it did on the boat.
“Are you okay, girl?” I murmur, stroking her side before reaching down for my dry clothes.
A crack echoes from within the forest and I freeze.
They’re just silly old stories. It’s not real. Boudicca was teasing. It’s not real.
I’m naked on the shore, in plain sight. And I didn’t even check to see if someone might be out here.
“Hello?” I call, looking over the top of the horse that shields my naked body. The horse stays still, calm even, so it must not be a predator. Or whatever creatures Boudicca warned us about.
When there’s no response, I chalk it up to an animal. By the size of the forest around the mountains, there must be deer or elk or something.
I ease into the dry clothes and quickly scoop up some fallen wood from the forest’s edge. Limping away, I set the wood down and begin striking the flint to light the fire.
But another crack rings out, this time much closer.
It’s a deer, it’s just a deer.
I freeze, but don’t call out this time.
The sky is almost completely dark. I can barely see a few yards past the horse. I’m going to need fire to ward off anything that might be coming out of the woods right now. Fear has me striking the flint with more ferocity.
Sparks fly, landing on the wood.
I blow just enough to get the embers to erupt, engulfing the dry wood.
The heat wafts upwards from the flames and I sigh at its warmth. A shudder wracks my body again, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
“As soon as I warm up, I’ll find something to eat,” I mutter.
Great, now I’m talking to myself.
Leaves ruffle in the tree line nearby, and I choke back a scream.
An apple rolls down from the brushy edge of the forest and thuds against my boot. I glance down at the offering and back up to the dark forest.
“Hello?” I whisper.
