Page 70 of White Raven

The black ghost horse strolled out of the brush, his lips curling back at seeing me.

“Why not? You have Mr. Fluffypants.”

Onyx mounted the horse, staring at me like I had lost my mind.

“He is not a pet.” He leaned over, clutching my arm. “And his name is not Fluffypants.”

The horse bared his fangs, chomping at my cloak, trying to bite what was in my hands.

“No. This is not food, Mr. Fluffal.” I protected the tiny creature against my bosom.

“To him it is.”

“You should be thanking him.” I nodded down to the animated root. “He helped me escape.”

“Yeah.” Onyx scowled. He nodded at Fluffy. “I found him wrapped in his mane, sleeping. The least he could do was what he’s already helped you with before.”

Fluffy huffed out, swishing his veiny head, his ears twitching, like he could still feel the creature on him.

Onyx lifted me onto the horse, settling me in front of him, yanking on the reins.

“Well, his name is Munch.” I stroked a finger over the little twiggy creature’s head. “And you will love him.”

CHAPTER 16

Onyx’s anger was tangible, oppressing the space with his discontent. We rode back to Blackwater, Munch sleeping peacefully in my palm, farting and burping from his overindulgence.

“How did you know where to find me?” I finally broke the tense silence.

“It wasn’t that hard.” He grunted. “Follow the chaos and trouble, because you seem to have a knack for finding it.”

I was starting to believe he was right.

“The tattoo . . .” I swallowed, my neck still thumped painfully, as if my skin was sparking with flames. “They were scared when they saw it.”

He didn’t respond, and I continued.

“Not just scared of the tattoo, but of you. They called you Svart Vinge.”

“That is one of the names I go by.”

“Why are they so frightened of you?” The residents of this place didn’t seem the kind to be terrified of anyone.

“Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re not, when everyone else is?”

“I am scared of you.”

“Not enough,” he grumbled. “Now, let me ask you why you defied me and found yourself in such a predicament?”

“I got bored.”

He huffed sardonically.

“There was a puppet show . . .” I turned my attention back to stroking the sleeping creature in my hand. “It made me upset. I ventured too far. That was when those men took me.”

“A puppet play was the reason you ran off and got yourself kidnapped?” His tone strangled.

“Yes.” I frowned.