Page 49 of On Burning Paths

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I’m sore just about everywhere, and my hand… I don't know. I’m not one hundred percent, but I'm alive."

I wish I could heal it. I wish I could take every bit of pain from him and carry it myself. He deserves nothing but goodness, all three of them do, and the force of that feeling hits me somewhere deep and certain.

I look at the three of them, Fenric still catching his breath, Thorian standing watch, Talon's eyes scanning the tree line, and I feel it settle into place with a clarity I haven't had until this moment. I've fallen for them. All three of them, in different ways and at different speeds, and I don't want to be without any of them. Not in this competition. Not after it. The thought of losing any one of them, of walking away from any of them when this is over, feels like something I'm not willing to accept.

I don't know what that means yet. I only know it's true.

"Time to go," Fenric says, rubbing his hand.

"Agreed," Thorian says, his eyes moving to the path ahead. Distantly, there are sounds of the other teams, shouting, scuffling, the gods already rearranging the world for those still behind us. When I glance up through the canopy, I can just make out the dark shape of the Obsidian Spire against the sky.

It’s closer than it was, but not close enough.

"The next trial is somewhere ahead of us," Thorian says.

And we move.

16

Thorian

I glance over at Fenric, who's walking alongside me like we didn't all grieve his death last night. After leaving the canyon, we found shelter and collapsed, and this morning we rose quietly, gathered our things, and kept moving. It's the same as it's been from the start.

Yet, somehow different.

Everything just… feels different. I’m leading our group. Fenric is still gathering anything edible and constantly giving us things to snack on as we walk, and Talon is keeping us entertained with stories.

It’s easy. Comfortable.

Strange.

Since we woke up, I’ve been watching it all like a play, and I’m in the audience. I don’t belong in a unit like this. On a team that really feels like a team. All the other Trials that I entered, my teammates were just bodies to get me to my goal.

These three… are people.

People I think I like.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere to rest soon?" Fenric suggests.

I've been too caught up in my own thoughts to track the time properly. The edges of the sky are drifting into soft pink, the sun lowering behind the trees. Nyx tips her canteen back, coaxing the last drops from it. We need to refill.

"Yes," I say, clearing my throat. "Let's make camp near the river."

We switch our direction, curving back toward the river we’d been trying to stay close to. Fenric stretches as he walks, something in his back cracking when he raises his arms, and I note that he's moving better than he was last night. Lucky. Berserkers heal quickly too, and Fenric is no longer cradling his hand to his chest like he was.

He catches my gaze. “Body still feels a little gummy.”

Talon pops in. “I imagine that’s normal when you almost die.”

Nyx has a flash of hurt across her face. “He’s doing great.”

He is. Which I’m grateful for. And not just because his death hurt Nyx. I’d have missed the bastard too.

But if we survive this, we’re supposed to go our separate ways anyway. Right?

I've considered, more than once, how I'll approach Nyx about not parting ways when the competition ends. That part I've turned over enough times that it no longer surprises me. What surprises me is everything that followed from it last night, lying awake in the dark after Fenric came back from the dead and Nyx finally stopped shaking.