Relinquish(28)

Normally I would laugh at his chiding tone, but I’m still in a bit of a daze. How did I lose so much time?

“Here, I’ll finish up while you eat.” He glances back over his shoulder at Eamon deep in conversation with two men. One of them is Arlo, a dark-skinned, rigid man with eyes the color of a fierce sunset. The other is Kohen. Although his is a bit stouter than Arlo, he is no less fearsome. A vine of crosses rest across the back of his hand, weaving up into the sleeve of his shirt. He collects one for every enemy he kills. As morbid as this may be, I have to admire the man’s death count. He’s the sort of guy you want on your side in battle.

“What are they talking about?” Carleon’s shoulders rise in a shrug. After a pointed glance my way, I sink my teeth into the meat, closing my eyes to savor the robust flavor. My stomach growls obnoxiously. “You slept through dinner so I gave you the biggest piece. I thought Nixon was going to lop off my hand when I reached for it, but Eamon insisted.”

“Of course he did,” I mutter as the venison turns bland in my mouth. I gnaw on the bite but vow not to touch the rest. I don’t want to give the men the satisfaction of thinking me weaker than them. “Do you know where we’re heading?”

“South.”

“I know that.” I chuck my plate at him and he ducks as it whizzes past and clatters against a tree. Eamon looks up, frowning with disapproval at our laughter.

“What’s got him all fired up today?” Carleon asks, yanking the ropes tightly over my disassembled tent. If there is one thing my friend excels at it’s getting a job done with speed and efficiency. I’ve often wondered if that was a trait ingrained in him growing up as an only child.

He never really talks about his family and I don’t push. All of us that survived the invasion were left as orphans. It wasn’t until we met Kyan that we discovered that each of us had parents waiting for us on Calisted. I wonder if anyone waits for Carleon. “Me, I think. He doesn’t want me here.”

His brow knits with confusion. “But aren’t you the key to all of this?”

“Yep.” I grunt as I shove my arms through my pack and stand up. I bite back my groan as the familiar weight settles onto my abused muscles. Despite the full day of sleep, my body is no less weary than the night before. “He doesn’t see it that way.”

I lift my shirt and gingerly run my fingers over my abdomen. A black smear of bruises and raw skin line my waist where the straps rubbed the night before. I’ve never been forced to rough it quite like this. Usually we move in large groups, camping within only a few miles of our next target. As I lower my shirt, hoping no one saw the damage, I can’t help but wonder just how far this march will take us. “Well, he should.”

I clip myself into my pack, biting my lip to still the cry of pain that rises in my throat. “Nice to know someone has faith in me.”

“Always.”





Seven



I welcome the frigid air as our nighttime hike brings us down into the foothills where the ground feels oddly flat. The burning in my ankles from the uneven terrain lessens as we pause for a brief rest. I sink onto a rock, my head drooping low as I suck in great gulps of air.

“How much longer are you going to ignore it?” a voice calls.

I look up, squinting to see a form emerging from the shadows. Most of the men went off in search of a tree to relieve themselves on. I hadn’t realized anyone had returned.

“Ignore what, Kohen?”

I don’t like this man. His beak-like nose and sharp piercing eyes unnerve me. He has the hands of a hunter, steady and calloused from years spent killing. He moves with the grace and ease of a mountain lion. “You are wounded. I can tell by the way you walk.”

“You don’t deny it,” he says as he perches himself on a partially rotten log that looks like it was felled after a lightning strike.

“Nope. Not really in the mood to talk about it either,” I say pointedly as more shadows emerge from the woods.

“Talk about what?” Eamon asks.

I clench my eyes shut, silently damning Kohen for opening his mouth. “He has a rash. Probably didn’t want you guys to know about it.

Kohen scowls at me and thrusts up to his feet. I almost think he’s going to pass Eamon by in a huff, but he stops and turns back. “She’s wounded.”

I toss my canteen at him, but it falls short. “Typical,” I mutter as I lean my head back against the tree behind me. Its bark is surprisingly smooth against the bare skin of my neck.

“Is this true?” Eamon asks. I can hear twigs snapping underfoot as he approaches.