Nirrin (Forestfolk, Book 3)

Chapter 7

My knowledge of the local forest got us going in the right direction, but my endurance left something to be desired. Fen tromped ahead like a determined buffalo, while I struggled to keep up. It didn't help that my dress kept getting caught in the underbrush when we strayed off a path. I kept having to stop and yank it free, sometimes tearing the material a little. I now understood why Sember and Siena preferred the deer hide trousers.

"Let . . . go!" I muttered to yet another bramble that insisted on snagging at my hem.

Fen heard the ripping sound and stopped, eyeing the offending bush. He yanked off the scrap of material that clung to it. "Are you intentionally leaving a trail for them to follow us?" He shook the scrap at my face.

"No one's going to follow us. I told someone I was leaving. Besides, if I wanted to leave a trail, do you think I would do it at the expense of the only piece of clothing I have with me?" I lifted the torn, pale-yellow hem off my knees. "I liked this dress, but now it's completely ruined!"

He stared at the material in the dim moonlight, looked back up at me, and then resumed walking without another word. His pace was noticeably slower, and he held back branches that might have otherwise grabbed at my dress.

"How far is—where do you live, anyway?"

"I live with a group. We move around a lot."

"Why not settle somewhere?"

He glanced at me long enough for me to catch his weary expression. "You really have to ask?"

"Uh, if I knew anything about you, then I wouldn't have to. What, do you live with a band of marauders or something?"

"Not really, no."

I gave him a funny look, which he didn't see. "What does 'not really' mean?"

"It means no one wants us around."

I frowned. "Why is that?"

He whirled around so quickly that I smacked into his wall of a chest. It was like ramming a tree. "Ow," I said, rubbing my nose.

He gripped my arms to steady me. Once he saw I was all right, he let go, and his expression hardened again. "Are you really that dense?"

I continued rubbing my nose. "Not dense enough, apparently. What are you made of anyway? Rocks?" I rapped my knuckles against his chest. The sound reminded me of knocking on a wooden table.

"Do you really not see what's in front of you? None of us look normal. People take one look at us, and we're lucky if they don't throw spears at us."

"There are more like you?"

"Not like me, but not like you either."

I sniffed. "Well, I would hope there was only one of me."

"You really don't get it." His voice was hard. "Some of us would give anything to look like you."

And I would give nearly anything to have a gift that made me unique. But I didn't tell him that. Instead, I said, "You're not one of them, are you? Wishing to look like me? Because I don't know that you'd look good in a dress."

He peered at me in the darkness for a beat, as if trying to see into me, then turned around and resumed trekking through the forest.

"Hey," I said, wondering if I'd hurt his feelings.

He kept walking. Maybe he hadn't heard me?

"Fen?"

He turned his head slightly, but said nothing.

Okay, so he could hear me just fine. "Fen, I don't think you're weird. And the Forestfolk would never run you off just because you look the way you do. We're not like that."

"Right," he said, voice flat. "That's why they kept me tied up for two days."

"It wasn't because of the way you looked. Galen can sense things."

"Whatever." Fen pushed past a low branch and held it out of the way for me.

I didn't walk through, and instead stared at him, defiant. "You think I'm lying?"

He cocked his head, like he was deciding something. "I think you're deluding yourself."

We stared at each other, neither of us backing down. In the dim, filtered moonlight, it truly felt like I was arguing with any other guy, and not a Gifted with strange armadillo skin. Was I really deluding myself?

"I'm tired," I said, feeling the exhaustion of the late night and hours of walking. "When can we rest?"

He peered up at the night sky, as if determining how late it was. Could he really do that? He gazed around at his surroundings, making me wonder if he could tell where we were. We had long since left the part of the forest where I was familiar.

"We can rest over there." He still held the branch back for me, and I stepped past to where he gestured.

"On the ground?" I looked doubtfully at the forest floor, which was shrouded in darkness. I imagined all kinds of bugs and slugs.

"Did you bring a bedroll?"

I hadn't brought a blasted thing. Was that amusement I heard in his voice?

Rather than answer him, I marched over to a wide tree trunk and sat down. Well, I felt around for creepy crawlies, then I sat down. The night air had gotten a bit crisp, and I folded my arms over my chest against it.

"Will you be comfortable enough?" he asked, still standing.

"Oh yeah," I deadpanned. "The ground is surprisingly luxurious. I don't know why I've waited this long to sleep on it."

His mouth quirked. "We'll rest a short while here."

I sighed and settled back against the tree. It wasn't the most pleasant place to rest, but it was nice to be off my feet. Maybe I would close my eyes for a while. Being the light sleeper I was—I'd learned to keep an alert ear for restless kids even in the dead of night—I knew I probably wouldn't sleep long.

Yes. A nap sounded good right about now. Just a little nap.

Yeah, nothing bad ever happens when you have your eyes closed. Just people voting and stuff.