"Okay." To no one. To myself. "Forward it is."
I turn around and keep walking.
Keer hasn't looked back. Not once. He just walks, and the forest doesn't touch him. His hand brushes a trunk—did he mean to do that?—and then he's shifting left before I've even registered the root, ducking a branch he can't possibly see in this light. I don't know how he's doing it. One eye. Dark. Nope.I don’t care how he does it.
The tunic I gave him barely covers his thighs. The fabric strains across his shoulders every time he reaches for a branch, and there's a seam under his left arm that's been threatening to give up since we started walking. Can't blame it. I wouldn't hold together either if I had to stretch across all of that.
My foot catches on something and I stumble, catching myself on a branch. Nugget squawks. Keer glances back—me clutching bark, chicken flapping, the picture of competence—and grunts. Then turns around and keeps walking.
No offered hand. No "are you okay."
Just a grunt.
"Thanks for the concern." I shove a fern out of my face. "Very touching."
Nothing.
Something cracks in the trees to our left. I freeze. Keer doesn't. Whatever it was is gone.
Kestria walks between us, slower than she wants to be. She keeps trying to speed up, then wincing. Arm pressing against her side. That bandage has to be pulling. She's not going to say anything because she never says anything, which is great, love that about her, really helpful in a crisis.
"How far?"
"Few hours."
"Hours."
"It's deep in the territory. That's the point."
Deep in werewolf territory. Cool. Great.
"The point being that I can't find my way back if I wanted to?"
"The point being safety." She steps over a fallen log, catches herself, breath hitching. "Humans don't come this far."
"I'm a human."
"You're a special case."
"Is that what we're calling it?" I hitch Nugget higher on my arm. She's heavier than she looks, and my pack is digging into my shoulders. "I'd have gone with 'hostage situation,'personally."
Kestria laughs. Then immediately grabs her ribs. "Don't—ow—don't do that."
"Sorry. Humorless from now on. Very serious."
"That'll last three minutes."
"Two, probably."
We walk in silence for a bit. Well—Keer walks in silence. He's been silent since we left. Not just quiet. Silent. There's a difference. Quiet is someone who doesn't have anything to say. Silent is someone who has things to say and won't, and every few minutes his shoulders go tight and he veers off the path he was just on and doesn't look back. What is he thinking about? Am I going to find out? No. I am not going to find out.
Root. Watch the roots. I nearly ate dirt ten minutes ago.
The tunic rides up when he steps over things. I look at the canopy. I look at the ferns. I look at his thighs. How did that happen. I look at the ferns again. It's dark and I'm tired and my eyes are just landing places. It's fine.
The silence is making my brain worse. "Where are you taking me?" I look at Kestria. "What is it? A cave? A den? Please tell me it's not underground."
"It's not underground."
