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."

As he readjusted the pack on his back and moved ahead of her, Zara struggled to shake off the strange sense of disappointment. She could still sense the weight of his hand on her shoulder. She suddenly felt weak as she realized why. She'd wanted his fingers to brush against her face, curious to know what it felt like. She shook herself, embarrassed by this thought. It was weakness, and a feeling that, if she wasn't careful, was likely to get her into more trouble than it was worth.

And she was in enough trouble as it was.

#

She was dreaming again. She could tell by the colors of the trees, too bright and vivid like the colors in an oil painting. They didn't look real. She reached out to touch a leaf and it felt waxy beneath her fingers. She could smell the dampness of the earth, though, and feel the wind as it swept through her hair and rustled her cloak. It would've been easy to convince herself it was entirely real.

She turned in a slow circle. It was the same clearing where Gray was killed, the same setting for all the other dreams. Only this one was different. Gray was nowhere to be found. Normally he was there, either a motionless body on the ground or watching her with dull, lifeless eyes before leaving her alone in the clearing. This time, she was alone. She was afraid to step out of the clearing because the forest beyond was too dark. It looked as if nothing existed outside of the moonlit clearing.

She inched closer to the ring of trees and tentatively reached her hand out into the darkness. She withdrew it quickly, cold stinging the tips of her fingers.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you...you may never wake up if you get lost out there."

The familiar cold voice sent chills up her spine. Zara gritted her teeth and turned slowly. She lifted her chin, trying to make herself appear braver than she felt. "If this is my dream, why are you here?"

He smiled at her, though there wasn't a trace of kindness in his expression. He had a long, narrow face with dark eyes. Hollow cheekbones and a cleft chin, too thin lips that revealed yellowed teeth when he smiled. The dark stubble that matched the hair on his head and chest also covered his jaw. Unlike her previous dreams, he was wearing a shirt, a gray long sleeved tunic over black pants.

"Curious, isn't it? I'm sure for you it seems entirely impossible. But that's just where the mystery grows." He paused a few feet in front of her and Zara resisted the urge to take a step back. "You know who I am, correct?"

"Ardon." The name came out as a whisper.

"Good." He nodded once, hands clasped behind his back. "Now, I've heard you've had a visitor. Some filthy, entitled Nightwalker warning you that a certain someone may be following your footsteps."

Zara nodded, but didn't dare say more. She wanted to know what he was getting at.

"I'm not sure what he told you, but— " He paused and his smile morphed into a startling grin. "Well, let's not ruin the surprise. All in good time."

Zara felt a stab of impatience. She was being toyed with. "What the hell do you want from me?" she snapped.

Ardon's grin vanished and faster than she would've thought possible, his fingers had curled around her neck and her back pressed up against the trunk of the nearest tree. She gasped for breath, clawing at his hand.

It's just a dream, she reminded herself. Just a dream. A dream.

Ardon cocked his head. "But it's not just any ordinary dream, is it? I could kill you now and who's to say if you'd ever wake up, hm?" His hold on her loosened enough for her to take in a gulp of air. "I need you alive, though. I want you alive. As I'm sure your father would too, bless his soul."

"What do you know about my father?" Zara demanded, her pulse jumping.

"More than you it would seem." Ardon chuckled. He let her go abruptly and Zara slumped back against the tree, rubbing her neck. She sank to the ground as Ardon crouched in front of her. "Wake now, Zara. I'll give you a head start, but we both know I'm coming and I will catch you. Shame that the huntsman can't protect you, but well...he might be worse than I am with his secrets."

"What are you talking about?" Her voice came out in a rasp, her throat raw.

He smiled at her in a condescending manner and tugged on the front of her cape. "Wake now."

She emerged from the dream with a gasping breath, startling Ronan who'd been sitting against the tree trunk next to her. She struggled to sit up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She swore she could still feel his warm breath agains her face, his hands around her throat.

"Zara, what is it?" Ronan asked, that look of worry still on his face as he moved to her side.

Her hands were massaging her aching throat and Ronan brushed them aside, pulling the thieves' wick closer. His eyes widened.

"These marks...what the hell is going on?" His voice shook just slightly, dark curls falling into his eyes and he impatiently pushed them back. "It looks...looks like someone..."

"Ardon," she answered quickly. She threw her blankets off her and began stuffing things into her bag. "We need to leave, get your things."

"Zara!" Ronan barked. She ignored him and with trembling hands continued to try and roll up her sleeping pad. "Zara," he said a little softer, grabbing her wrists and forcing her to look at him. As she looked into his eyes, she remembered what Ardon had said about secrets. Maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted her to not trust him, to drive them apart so he could catch her all alone. "Please, talk to me."

She let out a defeated sigh. "I've been having dreams. Just two now, about Gray and how he died. And Ardon has been there, I don't know how so don't ask me. But he just shows up and-and he talks to me."

"Who's Gray?"

The words had fallen from her mouth with such speed and carelessness, spilling bits and pieces of the secret she was trying so hard to keep to herself. There was a long moment of hesitation as Zara stared past him and into the forest, trying to decide whether or not this was any of his business. She hadn't forgotten, though, how open he had been with her the other night. Didn't she owe him the same trust? They were partners now. He deserved to know the truth about what she had done. She pushed out a breath, finally releasing the secret she'd been keeping. "Gray was my partner. The one I got killed. And the reason I was pushed out of the Red Capes."

She searched Ronan's expression, waiting to see the judgement flicker across his features but it never came. "How do you know it's Ardon?" he asked.

"Just trust me, Ronan. I need you to do that," Zara quipped, finally ripping her hands from his grasp. "I'll explain more later, but I just know we need to get out of here now."

Ronan nodded slowly, although she could see from his face that he didn't truly understand what was happening. She was relieved, though, when he started pulling things into his own pack.

A high-pitched howl pierced the air.

They both froze as the sound continued, agonizingly long. Somehow, she knew it was a warning. As the howl faded, another began. Then another, another, another until she lost track. She stood to her feet and grabbed Ronan's arm, leading him further into the forest.

"Come on, we have to get to Wintercliff," she urged.

There was no time to look at the map, but she knew they had to be close. When they'd set up camp for the night, it was with the notion that they'd be in Wintercliff by mid-afternoon of the next day. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, blood pounding in her ears as the howls continued. She swore she could the sound of twigs snapping and breaking somewhere in the distance.

They weren't going to make it.