Hunted(19)

She rose to her feet and began to dress in silence, not even bothering to warn Albe—he whirled around, turning his back as she traded her night shift for her trousers. Lena tied the dogs by the bedroom as Asenka tried to speak to Yeva, her voice shaking.

“What are you doing?”

“Go back to sleep,” Yeva said calmly. She was putting things into a leather bag Asenka had made from rabbit skins. A water flask, flint and tinder, dried meat and some tubers wrapped in an extra cloak. Lengths of wire, goose feathers, a pot of glue for arrow fletching in the field. Needle and thread. Bandages. Medicines for pain, bleeding, frostbite, broken bones, every eventuality she could think of.

“Yeva, you don’t know where he is.”

“I will find him.”

“It’s dark—please, calm down—wait until morning.”

“No time. His trail may be lost by then.”

Asenka grasped at Yeva’s arm with uncharacteristic strength. “Yeva, stop. We need you here. You can’t go tearing off into the woods. I am as worried about Father as you are, but we need you too.”

Yeva hesitated, arm flexing under Asenka’s grip. Her sister was right—if something had happened to their father, then she was the only one who could ensure her family would not starve this winter.

But if something had happened to their father . . . Yeva’s heart shriveled, and her instincts took over. She shook her sister’s hand off, then closed up the satchel and swung it onto her back. “You have enough food for several weeks. I’ll be back before then, I promise.”

“Yev—”

“I promise.”

She took one last look at the house: Lena with her arms around the dogs, holding them back; Asenka, white-faced and leaning against their father’s chair by the cold hearth; Albe in the corner, hands clenched together and hair sticking straight up. All of them still, round-eyed and frightened as they watched her.

A sharpness stung her heart in the brief, heavy silence while she stood in the doorway. She could not leave them—and yet she had to find her father. If he was alive she would bring him home. Solmir would help her find a doctor for him, and together they would take him away from the wood that had driven him mad. And she and her family would have peace. If he was alive . . .

If he was not—then she would find him anyway. She stepped out into the predawn gloom and let the door close on the lamplight behind her.

Pelei’s tracks through the snow were obvious despite the darkness. The dog had been moving quickly, bounding across deep snow and leaving a trough created by his body. Yeva followed the trail, grateful for the dog’s large size, and that he had forged such a path for her. She fell into the rhythm of her stride, mind reverberating with each step and each breath that steamed away behind her.

Keep moving. Keep running.

The sun rose behind a heavy curtain of clouds, leaving the forest in a false twilight that threatened to play tricks on her eyes. She kept her head down and kept moving, ignoring the burning in her legs that began just after noon. If her father was injured or trapped somewhere, she would not have much time to find him. This cold could kill someone within hours if they were not properly prepared—and even her father, master of these woods, could falter.

Pelei’s tracks grew fainter as the day wore on, hidden under a light dusting of snow that had begun to fall. By the time twilight crept in again she was forced to stop and make camp, as much to rest her burning legs as to wait for daylight to show her the way onward. She slept little, fear shrieking at her to keep moving despite logic telling her she must rest. She passed the time mending holes in her cloak with the needle she’d brought with her.

As soon as the sky lightened, she packed up the camp and doused the fire. She sucked on some of the dried meat until she was able to chew it as she moved out. She had not gotten more than ten steps, however, when a voice cried her name. She stopped, the sound ringing in ears that had grown used to hearing only the quiet evenness of her own breath.

She stopped long enough to let Solmir catch up with her, his breath coming in great ragged gasps. “Wait,” he panted. “Wait. Wait.”

“I can’t,” she said tightly. She could not afford to dwell on her fear, or else she felt she might be paralyzed by it. “He could be hurt.”

“I’ve been following you all night,” he gasped, hands on his knees as he struggled for breath. “Please. Your sisters explained. Let me help.”

“How?” Yeva shook her head. “I’ll move more quickly on my own.”

“Two sets of eyes,” he managed, lungs still heaving.

Yeva felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Had she not used the same justification to try and convince her father to let her come with him? She closed her eyes. “I am sorry, Solmir,” she said quietly. “I have to go on alone. I can run farther than you—you’re in no shape to continue on. And I must.”

He coughed breathlessly, but could manage no more words, merely lifting his gaze enough to watch her with silent appeal.

Yeva’s lungs constricted and she clenched her hands into fists, trying to fight the urge to give in. “If you would help me,” she murmured, “then—would you look after my sisters while I’m gone?”

“But—”

“Please,” she said simply. “Please, Solmir.”