Dark Forest (Watty's 2017)

Part 8

It was impossible to see the stars, the night sky all but invisible beneath the towering trees of the forest. Zara was used to starless nights yet she couldn't help but feel the need to see some sliver of light. Something to chase away the lingering dark thoughts the reapers had pulled from the corners of her mind.

She and Ronan both went through the motions of making camp, hardly seeming to notice one another. A fire was built, a meager supper of dried meat shared, and then they both sat in silence, watching the flickering of the orange flames. Every now and then, Zara would suppress a shiver and look over her shoulder, expecting to see a reaper floating towards her out of the pitch black night.

It was terrifying to think of how easily both she and Ronan had been brought to their knees without a single touch. Zara had seen and faced many creatures during her time as a Red Cape, but had never experienced anything even remotely close to what had happened inside the remains of Maran.

She mentally shook herself, trying to expel the helplessness she'd felt while under control of the reapers. It'd been weakness, and to survive the forest, that was the last thing she needed.

Every now and then, she could feel Ronan's eyes on her from across the fire. She knew he wanted to ask her what she saw, to know what it was that had brought her to her knees. She also knew she would have been lying if she hadn't felt that same burning curiosity to know what he had seen.

Unlike him, though, she could control her curiosity.

"So now what? Here we are, in the dark forest, searching for a magical object that we have no idea where to find in order to find a princess who we also don't know where to find," Zara murmured bitterly. Out loud, their situation somehow sounded even bleaker.

Ronan let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark curls. "I'm not certain," he answered honestly. "I was betting everything on Maran."

"What about Shadowham or Wintercliff? It's possible for someone to have moved it and hidden it in the ruins of another kingdom where it was less likely to be stumbled upon," Zara suggested, although she knew she was pulling ideas out of nothing more than thin air. "Or perhaps your father made a mistake."

Ronan's eyes hardened, and had she been easily intimidated, Zara would have flinched. "He didn't make a mistake. He may not have been a reliable father, but he was a damn good treasure seeker."

Zara shrugged her shoulders, hoping he didn't expect her to apologize. Otherwise he would have been waiting for quite some time. "Fine...then I suggest we head towards either Shadowham or Wintercliff."

"Shadowham," Ronan said, although he sounded reluctant. "We'd have to find a way to cross the Crimson Rill in order to get to Wintercliff and I'd rather not."

A shiver went up her spine at the mention of the cursed river's name. The legend behind it was full of death and darkness. People still insisted it wasn't water, but blood. There were many different versions, but each one ended the same, with the warning that any who touched the water lost their minds. "No, me neither." She let out a sigh and laid back on the ground. "Maybe luck is on our side...although in a place like this I highly doubt luck exists. Wake me up when it's my turn to take over."

Ronan mumbled something under his breath, but Zara couldn't make out any of the actual words. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep, but all she saw was Gray and the dark blood that stained the claws of the wolf.

She fell asleep only to have nightmares. In her dreams, the wolf came after her instead. She felt searing pain as it dug its claws into her chest and ripped through ribbons of her flesh. She tried to cry out for help, but no sound came from her throat. Her sword hung at her side, but her limbs were too heavy. She was completely helpless. Above her, the wolf continued to wreck carnage on her very breakable and vulnerable body.