Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Six of them do and they're able to lift him by working together, and I use a hand to haul him the final distance to the surface. He glares at me, eyeing his weapons now at my belt, but doesn't reach for them. "Who are these strangers?" he asks.
"They are my army."
"Yeah, well, you should tell your army to wash. I smelled them two valleys over."
I bare my teeth in an unfriendly smile. "And yet you still fell into my trap. What does this say about you?"
He scowls. "It says that I let my curiosity get the better of me, and that I should never go hunting when distracted."
"The smell is that much of a distraction?"
He's silent.
"What are you doing hunting this far into the mountains?" I prod, wondering if they have come looking for us or if he's lost. He seemed surprised to see me earlier.
The praxiian doesn't answer. Instead, he hobbles forward and then hisses, shaking his head. "You're going to have to carry me to your healer because my ankle is keffed up."
"There's no healer down here," I reply.
He groans, staring up at the sky as if his patience is completely exhausted. "Why me?"
"You aren't afraid?"
"Should I be? You would have killed me already if you'd intended to. And I imagine that it's better to go with you for now, because if you don't kill me, someone else might when I don't return." He grimaces.
Unsettled, I pick up one of the furs that fell into the pit with him. It's difficult to inspire fear in an enemy that's merely annoyed by you. He should be worried, not mildly irked at being inconvenienced. I spread the fur on the ground and gesture at it. "You can sit and I will drag you, if you cannot walk."
His annoyance increases. "You should let me go."
"Why would I do that?"
He doesn't answer, his long tail swishing. Instead, he looks unsettled for the first time since I pulled him from the pit. "I need to go back. That's all. I'm needed…elsewhere."
"I don't care. I need answers. You're coming with me." I point at the fur again. "You can sit and I can drag you, or they can carry you." And I gesture at the snow-people.
The praxiian's nostrils flare and he shoots me a disgusted look. Favoring his bad leg, he leans over and eases himself onto the fur, then gestures at me as if he's the one in charge.
I drop the end of the fur blanket and gesture to my army. Pull him with us.
The male is swarmed by the snow-people and he makes a sound of pure disgust that warms my heart.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
AIDY
My stomach is worse today. I move between bouts of cooking for the snow-people and vomiting in a quiet corner of the cave, in an empty bag that's going to need to be tossed when Corvak returns.
If he returns. I don't like that he's been gone so long. It's been days since I've seen him, and I know he's trying to trap the enemy. I just wish he'd check in, or let me know that things are going all right. Something. What if he never returns because he's been caught—or worse—and I'm stuck in this cave until the game is over?
What if the game is never over?
The thought makes me retch again.
Sweating and pale, I forget all about cooking for a moment and move to the front of the cave. The snow-people are just outside, hovering in wait. I don't see Pinkie—she hasn't been coming to the cave since I ran out of roots. I know she has to feed herself, but I feel like I lost a friend. The ones clustered just outside are all males, hungry for soup, and today's dish is fish that smells like it turned a week ago. I boil it up anyway, because they'll eat it, and I'm afraid not to feed them. As long as they keep bringing me carcasses, I'll keep cooking.
Right now though, I need fresh air. So I don't go quite to the front of the cave. I stay at least an arm's length or two back, lean against the cave wall and sink to the floor, and just breathe in fresh, cool air as it wafts in.
"Aidy?"
I jerk awake, horrified to realize I've fallen asleep—or passed out, more like. Scrubbing a hand over my sour mouth, I blink at my surroundings. Corvak crouches in front of me, a look of concern on his face.
"More sickness?" he asks, as if he can smell it on me.
"I'm fine," I say, blinking off the last of the disorientation. "Just a little off today. How did it go? You're safe? You're well? No injuries?" I run my hands over his crude clothing, looking for rips or dried blood. Corvak isn't the type to complain if he's wounded, but I'd still want to take care of him. "Let me know if you have any scratches. You could get infected with anything."