“No, please!” she cried.
They both let out a scream as he swung the dagger inward on himself and plunged it into his own stomach. He fell to his knees, and she staggered backward.
“Witch!” he screamed, then he pulled the blade from his belly and swung it again, sinking it back into his gut. She covered her mouth and watched in horror as his screams died, and he fell forward onto the forest floor, soaked in his own blood.
“Alke!” the two men bellowed from the tree line. “Alke! Bullo!”
But they still didn’t enter.
Her weeping breaths were uncontrollable now.
The air fell quiet. Had the others fled? The man named Bullo had been afraid—but of what? Whatever had killed these men would surely come for her next. She waited, her tears freezing on her face.
But nothing came. Quiet sat around her, broken only by the sound of her ragged breath.
A faint rustling made her jump, and she turned to see the fox sitting on a stump. He cocked his head.
A terrifying thought hit her. “Did you do that?” she whispered.
No. That was ridiculous. But if he didn’t, what did? The animal flicked his tail, waiting.
She stood, shaking from the cold or from terror. Maybe both. As she stared at the dead men, her fear urged her to flee, but she was on her own, and she needed a weapon. Bullo’s lifeless hand still clutched his bloody dagger. She approached cautiously, almost fearing he’d spring back to life. Sneaking forward, she grabbed the dagger by the blade so as not to touch him, and then scrambled backward in a hasty retreat. It was sticky with his blood, and her stomach turned. She wiped as much as she could on the frozen ground and then looked back at the fox.
“This is madness,” she whispered shakily, “but I’m out of ideas. If you want me to follow, then lead on already. Take me away from here.”
He leapt forward, finally happy at her compliance, and she followed after.
Chapter two
She followed the fox north, breathing deep the winter air to calm herself, but calm wouldn’t come. Blood still stained her hands. Fear still stained her mind. What had happened to the men in the forest would haunt her. But what had happened?
She eyed the fox warily. He had been there…
He trotted alongside her, stopping to pounce on anything that resembled something to play with, or a tasty snack.
“You seem to be taking this entire situation rather well.” Her voice still shook slightly. “Better than I am.”
He batted the tip of a stick above the snow with his paw and then skirted to the next.
“I mean, you didn’t run away. You don’t even seem… bothered, really.”
Because he was a fox, with a twilight of memory, and he probably didn’t even care. And yet…
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can see how that might make one question… your involvement…”
The animal darted under a thicket at the base of a tree and shuffled around before barreling back out of it. He didn’t even seem to remember she was still there, much less able to overpower the minds of her attackers and force them to kill themselves. It was a ridiculous notion, and she quickly pushed the thought from her mind. But if it wasn’t the fox, what had come for those men? And why hadn’t it come for her?
And now here she was, following this fox—admittedly not the wisest idea, but he was all she had at the moment. He was all she knew. And he helped settle her.
“If you’re here to help me, perhaps you could do something useful? Maybe dig me a burrow to sleep in?”
He seemed oblivious to her now.
She gazed up at the fading afternoon sky. “A warm burrow, with a fire and fur blankets.” She would need shelter soon. And food. “Maybe you could find me something to eat? Or lead me to a castle with a warm bath and a feast of roast and honeyed bread?”
He cocked his head. She would have smiled if she weren’t trying so hard to quell the panic rising inside her.
“You’re cute. But I’m beginning to think you’re lost too.” She scanned the trees around her. It didn’t seem she would find shelter anytime soon, and she shivered as the cold sank into her core. She pulled the hood of her cloak up, covering her head for more warmth. “I’m ready for that burrow now.”
The animal ignored her and sniffed around a large rock. She pursed her lips as she tried to not let desperation overwhelm her. It was foolish to have followed a fox. She wasn’t any closer to improving her situation, and the day was fading. Fear crept back inside her, and tears threatened.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she whispered to herself as she turned her attention to what to do next. The protection of the trees kept the wind at bay. She could build a fire for warmth, and she reminded herself people didn’t starve to death right away. Her nerves started to settle.
Suddenly, the fox stopped. He crouched low, flicking his ears forward, then back. His nose tested the air, and her pulse quickened. He flattened his ears against his head with his hackles raised, let out a low growl, and then turned and raced back the way they’d come.
She clenched her stolen dagger tighter as her fear resurfaced. Two ill-intentioned men still lurked about. Had they returned? She stood frozen, listening and scouring the trees for any movement.
All was quiet.
She was alone.
She let out her breath. Flighty fox, she thought, feeling foolish to have believed he was leading her somewhere. She’d wasted precious time.
Just then, a sound caught her ear. She stopped, straining to hear from which direction it came. It echoed through the forest again—a rustling thud—closer now, and she peered through the trees. Spotting movement, her heart leapt to her throat. Her eyes narrowed, focusing.
An animal.
A horse.
A horse with a rider. A man. Drawing nearer.
She ducked low and sidled up to a large tree, but she wasn’t exactly hidden. The best she could do was to not draw attention and let him pass unaware. She clutched the dagger tighter and praised herself for taking it.
The rider drew closer, and she slunk back out of sight and waited, listening to the hoofbeats of his horse. As they grew louder, she placed him only a few yards away. A little longer and he’d be past her. She backed around the tree to stay hidden, but her shoulder caught a small branch, and its echoing snap broke the quiet of the forest.
The hoofbeats stopped.
Her heart raced.
The sing of steel made her shudder as he pulled his sword from its scabbard, and she braced her back against the tree. Her mind screamed for her to run, but her body threatened to forfeit. She didn’t have the energy; he would catch her.
With animals in the forest, the sound could have come from anything—if only he’d believe that. She prayed he’d move on. Waiting felt like an eternity.
She strained to listen, but she could barely hear over the hammering of her heart in her ears. Had he gone?
Slowly, she peered around the other side of the tree. Her heart stopped when she saw the horse.
It stood without its rider.
She made a hasty retreat backward but gasped as she collided with a figure behind her—a figure very firm. And very male. Whirling around, she stumbled, but he caught her. She wrenched herself away and whipped her dagger to his neck.
He didn’t move to counter. Instead, he held his arms out, with his sword pointed down, yielding.