Page 93 of Ravenrose

At my back, Ayer just clears his throat, which says as much, but he doesn’t argue the point.

Another long stretch of silence follows as dusk falls upon us.

It’s not long before boredom sets in again, and after about an hour of thinking about it, I reach for a lock of Dash’s mane. I let the long, silky strands run through my fingers several times before I start to braid them.

“Don’t do that.”

Seeing as how my actions are innocent this time, I don’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice when I respond. “Do you have a problem with everything?”

Strangled laughter comes from our left—where Wyatt’s been riding. When I turn my head to look at him, he’s giving Ayer a sideways glance, nudging his horse faster to put more distance between us.

“War horses don’t have braids in their manes,” Ayer grumbles.

“Why not?”

“Because they... don’t.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not braids. It’s a braid. And I think it looks good.” I finish the braid, tying it off with a strand of Dash’s hair at the end.

“Take it out.”

“No.”

It’s a risk testing him like this. I’m not sure how far I can push him before he dumps my ass right back on the ground behind his horse. But I’ve got to be getting close.

The deep sigh behind me suggests he’s considering it too. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”

The corner of my mouth twitches up, despite myself. Perhaps I can annoy the broody captain to death.

I open my mouth but freeze—the skin along my arm prickling suddenly with unease. Snapping my mouth shut, my eyes dart around the surrounding forest.

There’s no way to explain it other than to say… something just feels off.

The forest is thicker here… darker—the sunlight blocked by the heavy canopy of trees up above, and it’s quiet. Memories of the tree monster flash in my mind, and I stiffen in the saddle, listening closely.

I hear no birds, no frogs, nor any other woodland animal noises, even with my elevated fae hearing; it’s just… silence.

My eyes scan the surrounding woods as my nerves alight. Dash picks up on it, his steps quickening below.

Are the shadows moving? Or am I just being paranoid?

“What is it?” Ayer asks, noticing my sudden change in demeanor.

“The quiet—” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the trees, still unsure if I’m just being paranoid.

Ayer’s body tenses against my back, and he lets loose a long, low whistle.

Not a soul glances back or even changes their pace, but something spreads through the air. The whistle was a warning.

Ayer’s arm tightens around my waist; I hadn’t even noticed it still wrapped around me. Slowly, he slides me backward in the saddle until I’m flush up against his chest—securing me, should we need to make a run for it.

My back rests against his warm leather armour, my hips bracketed firmly between his own. I keep as still as possible, wanting to avoid accidentally grazing something I shouldn’t. My pulse beats a frantic rhythm in my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the enemy captain’s proximity at my back—or what might await us in the dark.

A bit of both, I suppose.

I turn my head, hoping to steal a glance behind us, but a low whisper in my ear freezes me in place.

“Just keep looking ahead,” Ayer murmurs in my ear as Dash plods along at an easy gait. “Act… natural.”