HAVEN ✓

Eight

I spring after him. Even though he seems different than the Outlanders who attacked my home and took Markee, I don't exactly want to test my luck, but he might be able to help me find Markee. And by the way things are looking, he may be my only option.

"Wait, please," I call softly. I hate the slight tremble to my voice, a mix of fear and desperation. He warned me to be careful, and didn't harm me in any way, but the manner in which he holds himself exudes a power that makes me wonder what it stems from. He could probably take down at least half of those Outlanders by himself. His demeanor alone frightens me.

But he stops once more, annoyance clear in his movement as he swings around to face me.

"I'm looking for my friend," I begin. I don't want to sound as unglued as I feel. How do I explain to a stranger my lone presence in the middle of nowhere? I can't just say, hey, your people stole my friend, now give her back.

Or can I?

"She was taken," I settle for, hoping he knows what I'm talking about and where to find her.

But I expect too much.

He crosses his arms. "What makes you think I know where she is?"

Okay, he doesn't have to be so sassy. I already know he wasn't with the Outlanders who broke into Herald. I thought that maybe he would have heard them tramping through the forest on their way to or from Herald and know which way they went. And if he didn't, maybe someone out here told him where they were headed. Or maybe he won't be as much help as I had hoped, and I'm only wasting precious daylight.

I'm shaken of out my thoughts when Mr. Sassypants shifts abruptly, his gaze searching the forest. He uncrosses his arms, and one of his hands rests on something attached to his hip.

I don't know what's captured his attention, but it can't be anything good judging by the way his shoulders stiffen.

His sharp green eyes snap to me and I flinch.

"There's a village not half a league from here," he says, pointing towards the setting sun. The direction I've been headed all along. "Someone there might have the time and patience to aid you." He swings his eyes back to the woods, dismissing me, and pulls a knife from his hip. My skin crawls at the sight of the slick metal.

"I advise you to arrive there before sundown." He takes a step toward the trees, but halts before the branches engulf him. "Be careful."

And with that, he stalks into the forest, his face a mask of steel. Cold and hard like the knife he carries. A hunter after his prey.

I can't help but be perplexed by his actions. It was clear that he wasn't going to hurt me, despite what I initially thought. But if he didn't have the time or patience, then why did he stop to help me? I wasn't a waste of his time earlier when he saved me from being discovered. He probably only tried to shut me up to benefit him, to save himself from being found by the horde.

But then why did he warn me to be careful?

I decide to follow his example and push the rude man out of my mind. I no longer wish to waste any more time on him. I got what I needed and now I'll be on my way. Besides, it's not likely I'll ever see the stranger again.

Now that I have a lead, my purpose is renewed. Searching for Markee certainly isn't a waste of time, and I need to get to her as soon as possible. I never planned to stay in the Outlands overnight, but I won't go back until I've found Markee. No one—not even Markee—would have thought me capable of accomplishing all that I have today. Leaving the all-but-guaranteed safety of Herald, trekking across the Wall and into the Outlands, and even getting help from one of its inhabitants. She won't believe what I've done when I tell her.

The feeling of determination is a liberating one, energy humming through me spurring my weary legs into action. Even my parched throat is forgotten as I journey toward the setting sun, each footfall bringing me nearer to the village that I hope will contain Markee.

It takes me a little over half an hour before I realize with a belly full of dread that I've lost my way. I've come this far only to get turned around, the sun having sunk below the horizon. Surely the stranger wouldn't have sent me straight in the wrong direction, would he? After frittering away his precious time on me?

More than anything I've encountered so far in the Outlands, the hardest part of being in a foreign place is deciding what, and who, to put my trust in. The Outlander's word that there was a village nearby may still prove to be true, but will its inhabitants really help me? I want to believe him, but how do I know that it isn't a trap? And it doesn't help that he's the only source of information I have. How am I supposed to make a knowledgeable course of action? I'm ignorant to how the world out here works. I never really gave much thought to what was beyond the Wall other than what we were taught. For me it was black and white: Herald was good, and the Outlands were bad. Now everything is unexpectedly grayscale, and it's all his fault.

At the sound of a sharp cry from behind me, I dive into a thick bush, ignoring the scrape of branches at my neck. My heart pounds at the animalistic sound, anguished for only half a second before being cut off, the sound echoing through the trees. The darker it gets, the more creatures come alive—the scary kind that I have no business frolicking about in the woods with at night.

A few minutes pass and I don't hear another sound, so I can finally breathe easy. Now that the danger has passed, I deliberate in my hiding bush, trying to formulate a tactic when a large pair of hands push aside the cluster of fronds that have been hiding me from sight. I scramble back, away from the green-eyed Outlander standing before me.

"You're directionally challenged, aren't you?"

My trepidation turns to fury in the blink of an eye. How dare he.

"Were you following me?" I set narrowed eyes on him.

He ignores the question, offering me a hand that I decidedly ignore.

"I was getting on just fine, thank you. I thought you were hunting." I try and swallow, but the desert in my mouth is back. Attempting to stand, I stumble through the branches until the Outlander takes hold of my upper arm and steadies me. I bite back a scowl. He's offering help, and I silently curse the stars for giving me no other options.

"Come on, you're about to collapse. You made it most of the way, so don't die on me now. That would be inconvenient."

I want to tell him just how inconvenient his presence is, but I don't have the strength to form the words. Since the adrenaline wore off, I hardly have the energy to stay upright, but I have to keep going. Putting one leaden foot in front of the other, I head in the direction the Outlander indicates.

He walks beside me and I'm shadowed by his tall frame. Step after agonizing step, we march on until we reach a clearing and that's when I feel myself falter, slumping into the Outlander. By this point in my exhaustion, I can only see the ground in front of me as he guides me across grass and pebble until we reach a rough, unpainted door. He knocks and speaks to someone softly before I feel myself being lifted through the threshold.