White Stag (PERMAFROST #1)

Chapter Nine: Panic

Chapter Nine:

Panic

The dream from last night still haunted me as we trudged along the trail of the Stag. The parched air of the Fire Bog soon turned into the cool, sharp air of mountains. Ice glittered in the sunlight, hanging off trees, growing on rocks, and even shooting up straight from the ground. The only sound was the wind whistling between the mountain passes. No one said it out loud, but we all had the same thing in mind. With the Stag's trail so thick before us it would only be a matter of time before we ran into another hunting party. One that was alive this time.

My mouth tasted like ashes. The dream was so real; almost like my family was trying to remind me who I was. But the Stag's appearance only made Soren's words the other night replay over and over in my head. Shame ate at my insides as I remembered waking up with my head pressed against Soren's chest. Even after the terrifying dream his presence lulled me into a sense of safety. And that can't happen. I can't get attached. I've spent too long fighting to accept it now. But I hadn't left when given the chance, either.

I closed my eyes, allowing Panic to steer me. The horse was smart enough not to get himself in a trap.

"You shouldn't think about it so much." My shoulders tensed at the sound of Soren's voice.

"How do you always know what I'm thinking about?"

His lips quirked. "You get this look on your face whenever you're worrying over something. It's almost too hard not to notice. Also because I know how you work. You really need to loosen up."

"Loosen up?" Acid dripped from my tone. "I am loosened up."

All he did was raise an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I just don't want to talk to you right now."

Soren shook his head, his unbound, long white hair rippled like a wave. "It's a tough thing to realize, isn't it? I don't envy you."
"I haven't realized anything." I wish I believed those words as strongly as I said them. But roots begun to dig deep into this world, into Soren, and I wasn't sure that severing them was worth the pain. I peered at Soren again. His hair was whiter than the pristine snow coating the ground and even his thick hunting furs did nothing to hide the strong build of his body. His long, delicate fingers clutched at his horse's reins, easily navigating the treacherous mountain path. There was a sharpness in his purple eyes as he gazed up into the sky. That body shielded me from the cold, those hands kept me from hurting myself, those eyes burned with fury at the sight of me in danger. Something strange stirred in my chest and I turned away.

"You know what the best thing about being a goblin is?" Soren asked. When I didn't respond, he continued. "You can't lie to yourself."

I didn't dignify that with an answer.

Hunger gnawed my insides and I thought back to the last time I'd had any real food. In the Erlking's palace I drank a goblet of nectar, but that wouldn't keep me going forever and the effects were wearing off rapidly after the race through the Fire Bog. I needed real food and I needed it soon. Permafrost or not, I needed to eat like every other being. I eyed the saddlebag on Soren's horse. It was soaked red with blood from the fox they'd caught earlier. The goblins ripped into the animal raw and were carrying the still-eatable remains.

"You can have it if you want." Soren followed my gaze. "You'll have to eat something sooner or later."
"I'd rather eat toadstools," I retorted.