Dark Forest (Watty's 2017)

Part 10

Through the gaps in the tree tops, Zara could see gray clouds swirling overhead. The air had that damp smell to it that promised rain. She hoped it would hold off until they found some type of shelter, although getting caught in a downpour was the least of their worries.

Sleep had evaded her for almost two full days. When she did manage to find rest, it was fitful and dreamless, which for some reason only added to her worry. She couldn't stop thinking about the connection between Silas's words and Ardon's appearance in her dream. Had he somehow found a way inside her head? And if he had, why was he strangely absent now? Although she'd never heard of such a thing before, not even with werewolves. There was much she didn't know, though. Too much.

"Are you alright?" Ronan asked yet again as they weaved in-between trees. His cheerful demeanor had been absent just as much as her sleep had been, and instead a constant look of worry was now permanently etched onto his face.

Her current state of my mind made little space for her usual annoyance with Ronan. She managed a half-hearted eye roll. "I'm fine. Please, I'm begging you, stop asking me. I'll let you know when a time comes that I'm no longer alright."

They were walking at a much quicker pace than they had been at the beginning of their journey. She hadn't been eager to get to the Crimson Rill or Wintercliff, but now she was looking forward to put as much space between them and the wolf king that Silas claimed was following their footsteps. They hadn't discussed what Silas had said since that first morning after he'd appeared in their camp.

"It just makes no sense." She'd muttered out loud as they had quickly packed their belongings. "I'm no different than anyone else. There's no reason he'd be after me, of all people. Maybe it is rubbish," she'd scowled, although she hadn't believed that then and still didn't believe it now.

"I think finding out what the Nightwalker meant about your father is the key here. Are you certain you remember nothing about him?" Ronan had questioned.

Zara had shaken her head. "Nothing, just that he's dead. Gran didn't speak of him."

"Maybe he did something to get on Ardon's bad side while he was alive, and now Ardon's after revenge."

"Maybe," Zara had murmured tiredly. "Although I'm sure his revenge list is too long to be concerned with a girl from Whitehaven."

That had been the end of that conversation, although Zara could tell Ronan was waiting to bring it up again. She made sure to never give him the chance, though.

Just a girl from Whitehaven. If only that were true. She wasn't just a girl. Her history wasn't quite that simple, nor was she. Red Capes were usually made up of similar histories- people who had no family, nowhere else to go.

"Let's check the map again," Zara called to Ronan, who had passed her at some point while she'd been lost in her head.

He fell back a few paces and came to stand next to her. She pulled the map from where she'd tucked it inside the waistband of her pants and unfolded it. She placed a finger on the map, pointing. "We should be somewhere in this area,"

"And Wintercliff is here." Ronan's finger traced a line from hers to the faded words of Wintercliff. The Crimson Rill stood out as a bright red line, reminding them both of the obstacle that still had no idea how to overcome. "At this pace we should make it before dark tomorrow."

"Assuming we figure out how to safely cross the Rill," Zara reminded him, folding up the map.

"We will," Ronan assured her, although the worry in his eyes betrayed his fraying confidence. He glanced over to her and for once, she let him meet her gaze and see the worry there that matched his own. He suddenly lifted his hand and she'd been sure he'd meant to push her hair out of her eyes. He hesitated at last minute, though, and patted her shoulder instead. "We'll find a way."