Chapter 13

Lilitha studied the trees as they made camp—or what passed for camp—for the night. They were rugged up in their cloaks upon the driest part of the forest floor they could find.

After their stop at the waterfall, they hadn’t made as much distance as she’d hoped. It was hard, tired, and weak as they were.

Though they ate what they could along the way, it wasn’t enough. Berries and a few handfuls of nuts could only satisfy so much.

If monsters didn’t get them, starvation would.

They had to get out of this forest.

The night was alive with life, more than it had ever been before: owls hooted, frogs croaked, night birds squawked, a lizard scurried along a branch above Lilitha’s head.

Right now, she wondered how a monster so terrible that it could rip a man’s face off could exist within such wonder.

Beside her, Clara was sound asleep, her back pressed up against Lilitha’s. She could hear her breathing, slow and regular. At least someone was getting some rest.

Lilitha pulled her cloak further around herself, and with a wince, curled her knees into her chest. Her stomach felt like it was gnawing on itself.

She turned her head into the soft forest floor with a sigh.

She must have fallen asleep because the next time she woke, her neck was aching and she could feel Clara’s arm wrapped around her waist. Her eyelids were glued together.

Forcing them open, she rolled her eyes and peered into the trees. Her stomach growled. Her mouth watered. She almost jerked upright.

Was that…was that ~food~? ~Cooked~ food? Was someone ~cooking~? Surely she was dreaming. She squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them again, she could still smell it.

For a long time, Lilitha just lay there, her stomach tightening itself into a knot, her mind spinning with all manner of possibilities.

The smell seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. It smelled like meat. ~Actual~ meat. Lilitha licked her lips. She’d rarely gotten to eat meat. Only tiny morsels. Only the rich could afford it.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to ~do~ something. Maybe it was someone who could help. Maybe it was another prisoner! Or the Champions…

~Maybe it’s the monsters themselves…~

Lilitha shook her head. Monsters wouldn’t cook. What monster would cook?

Very carefully, she eased out of Clara’s arms.

It took several wrong turns before she finally found the direction it was coming from. Carefully and quietly, she passed through the brush.

She was getting better at being secretive, barely disturbing the branches, boots light against the spongy ground. Learning from her mistakes.

The smell became so overwhelming she almost fell to her knees. She wiped at her mouth, wincing at the pang in her gut. The forest was thicker here, darker, quieter.

She closed her eyes, concentrating. The source of the scent was so close, so potent that it was all around her, difficult to trace. And it smelled different.

There seemed to be an almost…sweetness to it she’d never smelled before. It made her craving worse.

She wandered in circles, low branches snagging at her hair and cloak, thorny bushes pricking at her hands as she pushed the leaves away.

Sucking at a gash on her palm, she widened her search, stopping in front of a low ridge draped in vines. Roots snarled through the dirt.

She brushed aside the curtain of vegetation. There was a fissure, narrow but large enough for a person to fit through.

Lilitha took a moment to listen but heard nothing aside from her own panting breaths. She glanced over her shoulder, then turned back.

She knew she shouldn’t; it was a very bad idea, but the hunger was ~killing~ her. She slipped inside.

The fissure widened into a clearing. Lilitha paused. She seemed to be alone, surrounded only by the trees and the darkness and whatever this mystery was.

In the middle of the clearing was an old fire. No longer burning, it was a pile of ash and sticks, though smoke still rose from the ruin and there was the small glow of burning embers.

The earth was flattened around it, as though one or more people had been here—obviously. How they had managed to even light a fire in so much wet was a miracle.

~They~. Who was ~they~?

“H-hello?” Lilitha called uncertainly, eyes darting everywhere.

All she heard was the whispering of leaves.

She approached the fire. It was so strange. None of this made any sense. Who would make a fire in the middle of nowhere? And who would then simply leave food to spoil?

Food. She was right—it was some kind of meat. It was sitting in an uncovered woven basket. Browned and juicy-looking. A large hunk of it. Neatly cut.

A trap. It had to be a trap. Lilitha spun around, her breathing echoing in her ears. Her heart was racing in her throat. She waited and she waited—but there was nothing.

She turned back to the basket. With a clumsy lurch, as though her brain and gut were fighting against each other, she picked up the basket and fled the clearing.

Lilitha raced through the trees, trying to get away from that weird place as fast as possible. She couldn’t believe what she’d done.

How was she going to explain this to Clara? What if she’d put Clara in danger?

When she realized no one was chasing her, she soon slowed, then stopped. Panting, Lilitha lowered the basket to the ground. She swallowed and wiped her mouth, then crouched beside it.

The meat was warm in her hand and soft in her mouth. Its juices gushed down her throat. It was tender and so utterly delicious. Lilitha fell to her backside as she bit into it again.

It was very red on the inside. Bleeding. Almost raw. But it was yummy! The best thing she’d ever tasted. She liked meat, but no meat had ever tasted like this.

She ate it all, her stomach groaning as she licked her fingers. Pink juice dribbled down her forearm. Feeling strangely hot, almost unbearably so, she pulled off her cloak and licked the juice away.

Lilitha stared at the empty basket in disbelief. She picked it up and twisted it about. It was built of twisted roots. Who could have made it? A large leaf covered the inside.

Lilitha dragged her finger through the juice left behind and licked her finger again. Then she carefully removed the leaf and poured the remaining contents down her throat.

Closing her eyes, Lilitha took a deep breath. She wished she could have more. So much more. Endlessly more. Opening her eyes, she studied the basket guiltily. She should have saved some for Clara.

Lilitha looked up with a start at the sound of a rustle and the startled squawk of a bat. She could hear the beating of its wings. Lilitha stared into the bushes, her heart in her throat.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. There was that feeling again. That feeling of being watched. That feeling of something dangerously close.

And there it was—a low growl. Suddenly, Lilitha was running. Unthinking, she initially made straight for Clara before veering away. She was not going to lead the monster to her friend.

Instead, she zigzagged through the trees in an attempt to confuse it.

The meat sat like a rock in her belly, a stitch slicing through her insides as she leapt over roots and rocks and ducked beneath branches. She sprained her ankle at least twice.

She eventually slowed to a walk, staggering and lurching, the cold air feeling like pins in her throat and lungs. Vomit swelled in her throat and she paused to heave, her stomach too full.

Nothing came up. She spat, then whipped her head around at the sound of movement behind her. There was nothing.

Ahead of her was a clump of bushes covered in flowers that hugged the ground. She rolled beneath it and hid.

She lay awake, listening to the silence. Soon, her skin broke out in goosebumps and she realized she’d left her cloak behind.

She wriggled further beneath the bushes for some more warmth, but she continued to shake.

After a considerable amount of time of hearing nothing but her own pounding heart, she crept back into the open.

She rubbed at her arms vigorously, but her fingers were like ice against her skin, making her feel worse. She had no idea where she was.

The trees, the rocks, the empty spaces—none of it looked familiar. In her attempt to shake off the monster, she hadn’t focused on where she was going.

She was lost.

Unable to call out Clara’s name in case the monster heard, she wandered. At first, she managed a good pace, but it wasn’t long before she began to stagger and trip, the world tilting at strange angles.

The forest taunted her. The cold bit. And her stomach—it really, ~really~ hurt.

She sagged to her knees, joints stiff, head heavy. Her lungs felt tight. She felt the urge to be sick again but nothing seemed to want to come up.

Collapsing on her side, she curled into a ball. Her eyes slid shut.

Something soft fell upon her skin. Something rubbed her up and down. Heat flared from somewhere close by and she moaned in pain. Her heart thundered, her blood flowed, her lungs loosened and heaved.

Somebody’s murmurings became quiet words, and she could almost remember who she was. Then warm hands tried to roll her onto her back, and she batted them away, unwilling to move.

“Stop it. You must drink,” came a whisper.

Someone lifted her head and a vessel of cold water parted her lips. She drank deeply, spluttered, then fell back again with a sigh. She slept again.

Lilitha opened her eyes, then shut them at the piercing light of bright flames. Slowly, she opened them again. She was lying on the ground.

Someone had built a fire not far from her spot. She sat up with a gasp. Her cloak fell into her lap, and the freezing night air snarled at her skin.

She pulled it back on and rubbed at her eyes, confused.

Who had lit the fire? Who had retrieved her cloak? Was it Clara? The mystery meat person from the clearing? She looked around, but the trees were her only company—Mandalay?

She tried to rise but flopped back down again, weak and dizzy.

“You shouldn’t try to do too much,” came a voice.

Lilitha froze. It was a male voice, unrecognizable, youthful, with a deepness that seemed wrong.

“Who—who are you?” Lilitha croaked.

There was movement in the trees to her left. She turned, and a figure stepped toward her.

He was enfolded inside a large cloak with a deep hood that was pulled far over his face, veiling his eyes and shrouding his expression in shadow.

Again, she tried to stand and again she flopped back down.

“I told you. You should rest.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend.”

He came over. Lilitha shifted away as he sat by the fire, reaching his hands out to warm them. Lilitha tried to study him but all she could see was his smooth chin. He was tall with big hands.

“Be calm. I won’t hurt you. My name is Damon, and I live in this forest. I found you here and saved you.”

“You live here? How?”

“I find shelter. I rest. I breathe. I eat.”

She looked at the fire, then at him.

He smiled. “Yes, I’m the one who left you the food.”

“Why?”

“Because you were hungry.”

Lilitha screwed up her face. “But how…”

“I’ve been following you. Keeping you safe.”

“You’ve—you’ve been following me?”

“You and your blonde friend. Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Lilitha’s eyes darted around the trees. “Then…then you must know about the monsters.”

“There are no monsters here,” he said.

Lilitha shook her head in disbelief. She tried to peer beneath his hood, but he turned away. “Who are you?”

“I’ve told you.” He raised his hand when she opened her mouth to ask more. “Enough questions. Tonight is for rest. I’ll be sure to keep the fire fed while you sleep.”

“My friend…”

“She is safe. I’ve made sure of it.” He was beginning to sound annoyed.

She watched him closely, testing his patience. He looked at her, raising his face enough that Lilitha saw two points of light glaring at her from deep within the darkness of his hood.

She hunkered to the ground.

Soothed by the crackle of the fire, dragged down by the heaviness in her limbs, she sank into sleep.