Page 39 of Aryn

I step closer so we’re standing side by side, scanning the quiet forest. “Have you seen anything?”

“A few animals, but nothing worth noting.”

“They’re probably sheltered more often than not these days.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

I take a moment to assess his face. There are no obvious signs of fatigue, and his eyes are sharp. “Do you need to rest before we leave?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” I concede as I clap him on the shoulder. “But next time we break for camp, we split watch. Between the four of us, we should be able to rest.”

“Four?”

I shrug as we turn together to walk back toward the house. “We both know Cameron isn’t keeping watch, and Taryn has already said she’s not comfortable fighting.”

Cato walks back into the house, the orange morning light making him look even more like a wild flame brought to life. Ronan nods in his direction. “Can he be trusted with sentry duty?”

Something inside me bristles at his dismissive attitude. “He wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t trust him,” I say sharply. “Out of all of us, he’ll take it the most seriously.”

Those dark brown eyes flick to me, assessing for a moment before he dips his chin. “Alright. Next time we break for camp, we’ll come up with a schedule.”

Inside, everyone is dragging from the few hours’ sleep on the cold ground, rolling their sleeping bags up and eating breakfast. Taryn’s usually pleasant demeanor is agitated and Cameron’s eyes are heavy, but Lillith hums happily to herself.

Cameron tears a wrapper open on a bar, staring at it with disdain. “It’s been exactly ten hours and I’m already sick of these things.”

“Maybe when we camp tonight we can find a spot where we can light a fire,” I offer. “A hot meal would go a long way after traveling.”

“A fucking fire,” Cameron groans. “Gods, once this is all said and done, I’m never going to complain about being hot again in my life.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Ronan mutters, then smiles deceptively sweetly when Cameron shoots him a glare.

We finish packing and leave the house behind, walking northeast for several hours until the trees become thinner. The rocky mountains sit in the distance, their jagged crags jutting from the ground like fangs.

“You did say everything had teeth,” Cato mutters from beside me. “Apparently that means the land, too.”

“We’ll have to pass through the mountains to get to Maelithryne,” I say as I reference the map.

Cato stares at the giant peaks. “We have to climb those?”

“Not very far,” I assure him, pointing at the spot wedged between the two tallest points. “The village uses the terrain for protection. The landscape can be dangerous, and the path leading to the gates is only wide enough to stand two or three wide. It was built that way to defend against enemies.”

“Smart,” Taryn says, falling into step on my other side. “Although I can’t say I’m thrilled about having to navigate those mountains. They’re terrifying.”

“They’re scary from here,” I agree, “but they’re beautiful once you get there.” My chest aches as I stare at the mountains, memories from a lifetime ago flooding my mind in a reel of images and feelings. “These flowers used to grow in the foothills, with petals that looked like flames. Every year when the cold season was over, they’d be the first to bloom. You could stand at the top of the walls and look down the slopes, and it looked like the world was on fire.” My eyes shift over to Cato, then climb higher, where the orange morning light gleams through his copper strands. “They remind me of you.”

He huffs and scratches his beard, trying to hide his pleased smile. “That might be the first time someone’s ever compared me to a flower. A cactus, sure. Never a flower.”

“You are a little prickly,” I say with a grin as I glance back at the map, but it fades as I focus on the frozen ground beyond. “I wonder if they’re still in bloom. The cold might be too much.”

Cato moves like he wants to reach for me, and I freeze just long enough for him to second-guess himself. He flicks the map lightly instead. “Didn’t take you to be a pessimist.”

“I’m just being realistic,” I argue.

“You’re being a stick in the mud. You don’t even know they’re gone, and you’re already disappointed. They might still be there. And if they’re not? Who needs flowers when you have me to look at?” He flexes his arms and poses, twisting to show me his back before glancing over his shoulder with a wink. “I can stand down in the valleys and wave.”

“Are you supposed to be showing off your muscles? Because I can’t see anything past all those clothes you’re wearing.”