AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Choices made, we leap to the other side. The stench hits me first. Sulfur, mud, and rot. Mack drags up the new map, and we quickly plan out the course before surging ahead. The giant oak and elm trees must have been glorious once, and a few still retain their vibrant array of golden and orange leaves.
Most, however, are in various stages of death, their beautiful foliage carpeting the forest floor in wet, decaying piles.
The troll musk was genius, and we manage to sneak nearly all the way to the second portal before our sweat washes the musk away. An orc bellows to my right, the sound coming from a mound of branches and leaves. The orc’s nest.
Falling into our positions, we slash and fight our way to safety. The dying forest fills with the sound of our classmates doing the same. We pass a few of them. Little by little, Mack and I gain ground until I spot the flickering gleam of the next portal through the underbrush. roup of shadows in front of us choose their first two items and leap through. I scour the rim, desperate for any clue as to what comes next. As I drag air into my lungs, working to calm my mind, a scent hits me.
“What is that smell?” I blurt. “A flower?”
Mack ducks beneath a butterfly, barely missing its gruesome touch. “What?”
“I think it’s mountain laurel.” I would know that scent anywhere. After realizing Hellebore’s obsession with poisonous plants, I insisted Eclipsa add those to our training. Thank God she made me learn their telltale smells along with their names.
Mack’s eyes stretch wide. “Yes! It grows deep in the Vanier Mountains of the Winter Court. That’s where we’re going.”
Someone shoves us from behind. As instructed, I put my hand into the pouch and whisper the two items I need, just loud enough that Mack knows what I conjured.
Axe—for helping climb high mountains and chopping wood.
Waterproof wool-lined gloves—because I really appreciate all ten of my fingers.
Our suits are spelled to protect our bodies from the elements, but our hands are bare. And I learned my lesson about what happens to exposed digits in the freezing Winter Court temperatures.
She conjures gloves as well as a long electric prod, the kind used in the menagerie for the more dangerous animals.
That’s when I recall what else resides in the Vanier Mountains. Something way worse than mountain laurel or the biting chill of winter.
Snow leopards. And not the adorable, normal sized mortal ones.
The massive, mythical, eat-entire-villages kind.
46
“God, I hate being right sometimes,” I mutter, watching my breath crystallize in front of my face. The snow crunches beneath our boots as we race along a path. Once again, I’m reminded how much I hate the cold.
Will that change when the mating bond is consummated? Gosh, I hope so because this . . . this is miserable.
“I can’t feel my face,” Mack moans, casting a sidelong glance at my hair, which I’ve unpinned and am now using like a scarf to keep my face warm.
“Pretend we’re inside the smelly sauna from the school gym.”
“Oh, warmth. I would give one of my toes for a few minutes of heat—if I have any left. I can’t tell.”
I slow, frowning. “Should we stop and make a fire?”
“No.” She gives a stubborn shake of her head. “Not yet. We should be close.”
We’ve been running nonstop for at least two hours. Footsteps mar the otherwise perfect crust of snow ahead, which tells me we’re on the right path, at least.
It also says we’re not first.
How many have already passed through the second portal?
According to the map from my sigil pin, the next portal is on the other side of the mountain.
We quicken our pace. By the time we hit the gently sloping range, a soft drizzle of snow falls around us.
When we’re halfway up the mountain, I spot little fires drifting from below.
