Relinquish(31)

Eamon hoists the young deer onto his shoulders, indifferent to the blood that streaks his jacket. Without another word, he stomps away.

Guess we are back to the not speaking to each other phase. Snatching up the forgotten spear and wiping the blood clean from my knife, I fall into step behind him, weaving through the trees. Our path is marked by nature, carved from the earth long before the Caldonians arrived.

One of the first things I learned while living in the wilderness was to use landmarks to plot my way. Today we used a frozen stream we discovered running through a deep crevice. I try not to think of the one we found Arlo lying in the bottom of, neck snapped and legs twisted so far around they were touching his head.

Eamon had tried to shield me from it, but I stared down at his lifeless body and felt numb. His death was senseless and careless. He wasn’t meant to be in the woods any more than I belong in a city.

I am a hunter. It runs in my veins. This is my domain, not streets of concrete and glass. “Wait up,” I call as Eamon attacks a snowy ridge, leaving me to flounder on my own. It’s not like him to be so callous. Distant, yes, but not like this. Something is bothering him. Something more than me.

The soles of his boots punch through a thin layer of ice. The muscles of his back contract as he shifts the weight of his kill. Eamon has always been lean and strong, his body adapted to a rugged life, but now there is a confidence about him that he lacked before. Toren has evolved much like Eamon.

Although I have never been overweight, lack of food making that a near impossibility, I can feel that I’ve lost some of my muscle mass and added a few extra pounds since moving from the caves. Aminah and Zahra have fared similarly, although they don’t keep to rigid training schedules, so it won’t be long before the ample amounts of food will start to take its toll.

Sometimes I struggle to recognize us anymore. I can walk right past a friend on the street and not even realize they were there, looking so out of place on city streets. Homesickness strikes me most when I’m out here. That’s probably the biggest reason Kyan has kept me from being alone in the woods for long.

Eamon halts at the top of the hill to wait for me. His chest rises and falls with exertion. The grim set of his features betrays the anger simmering just under the surface. I can see it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate in the moonlight and his lips press into flat lines.

“Are you going to do this the whole way back?” I hold the stitch in my side.

“Do what?” he grunts. His shoulder dips, neck rolling to adjust the weight.

“This pouting thing. I’m used to your cold shoulders, but this is different. What’s eating at you?”

Eamon opens his mouth to speak, but a howl cuts him off. My head whips around in the direction of the call. It is close, much too close. “They’re tracking us.”

He nods and grabs my hand, yanking me behind a thick patch of bush. I strain to hear, listening for rustling of branches or the cracking of ice. It is hard to hear anything over the winds.

The curved dome of latticework branches overhead makes it difficult to see. Small thorns dig into the palms of my hands as I shove the branches open wide enough to pass through. I glance back to see Eamon’s indecision in the dim light. “You have to leave the deer.”

He shakes his head. “The wolves will get it.”

My stomach wars with my mind. Yes, I’m hungry, but it’s not worth our lives. With only a hunting knife and spear, we can’t hope to fight off an entire wolf pack.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into leaving the laser guns behind.” His jaw clenches, his back teeth grinding as he drops the deer. He presses it up against the base of the tree and works to cover it with leaves. His bare fingers tremble as he claws into the ice, fighting to free large chunks of snow.

A breeze unsettles my hair, whipping it around my cheek. It carries the scent of dog, wet and unclean. “Eamon, now!”

I grab his forearm and yank him toward me. The scent of pine invades my senses as I emerge from the small space. A single howl rises from the valley below. Goosebumps rise along my arms as a resounding chorus quickly joins the hunting cry.

“How far?” I whisper, peering into the night.

“They’re close.”

As I run, I stare at the dark stain across Eamon’s back. Even if they will leave the deer behind, one or all of them will most likely track Eamon too. “Toss away your jacket.”

“What?” He calls back over his shoulder. Winds whips at his hair, unsettling his curls into his eyes.

“You’ve got blood on you. They will smell it.” He wiggles out of his jacket, wadding it up as he tosses it to the side. I trample over it, stomping it into the snow before racing behind him.