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Chapter20
Ember
Owls hoot somewhere overhead, and if I’m not mistaken, a coyote calls in the distance. We’ve been walking solidly since this morning, and while I’m exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, I don’t complain.
I’d much rather get as far away as possible than stop for a midday—or, in this case, midnight—snack.
“We need to get somewhere safe for the night.”
“Where?”
He turns in a slow circle, studying the surroundings. I try to mimic him, to see and hear what he’s seeing and hearing, but all I get are the owls and the sound of a light breeze flitting through the leaves of the trees around us.
“We need to go up.”
“Up? What—”
He points to a tree above us. I glance up then back at him.
“I don’t want to be a pain, Rafferty, but there’s no way I’m making it up that tree.”
“I’ll help you. We can’t stay on the ground—not unless we want to risk being discovered by creatures.”
Before I can even ask what creatures he’s referring to, he’s moving toward the tree and reaching out a hand for me. Fact is, this isn’t my world, so if he says we need to go into a tree, then into a tree I go.
Accepting his hand, I let him pull me toward the tree. Then, he kneels. “Get on my back.”
I do as he asks, wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. He stands as though I weigh nothing more than a light backpack, crouches, then jumps up. I tighten my hold and close my eyes, expecting to fall. No man can make that jump!
Then, I remember: Rafferty is no mere mortal, is he?
I crack open one eye, then another, and stare forward as he pulls us up using tree branches. A few more branches up, and he’s crawling up onto the trunk of the giant tree where it splits into different, smaller branches.
The space is small, about the surface size of a medium beanbag chair, but it’s clean save for some leaves. Not that cleanliness matters at this point.
“We can sleep here.”
Don’t look down.I look down. The ground is yards below us. My stomach flips, and I force myself to retrain my attention to my feet. “And if I fall?”
“I won’t allow you to fall,” he says.
“How will you not fall?”
Rafferty grins at me. “I do not fall. My sleep is light enough that, if a leaf lands on your face, I’ll know about it.” He removes the blanket from his shoulder and lays the crimson cover out as best he can before gesturing for me to climb on top of it. I do so, and he folds the other half over me like a makeshift sleeping bag, the seam facing the side I’d likely roll out.
“What about you?”
“I will be fine,” he replies and takes a seat on my other side, likely to keep me from rolling out.
“You really should get under it with me. There’s plenty of space.” To demonstrate, I try to move and roll—directly out of the tree. Before I can scream, Rafferty is ripping me back to safety. My adrenaline didn’t get the message, though. With my pulse pounding, I bring my knees up and put my face between them, taking deep, steady breaths to calm myself.
“You should get settled,” he tells me. “I will take part of the blanket and keep you from rolling out.”
“This is all so insane. We’re in a tree.”
“Better than being down there, I assure you.”
“I suppose death by falling is much easier to stomach than death by murderous creature ripping me apart.”
