The Hidden (Shadowed Wings #1)(13)

The guards are scanning the ground, looking for tracks, I realize. Ryn stops just past the base of my tree and bends over to pick something up. He looks around the ground and then slowly stands. Don’t look up. Don’t look up, I chant in my head on a loop as if it will somehow keep any of them from doing exactly that. I squint to try and see what Ryn now has gripped in his fist. I pale when I make out the black feather he’s now gripping.

“She definitely came this way, but it looks like she took to the sky here,” he announces, and then every one of them looks up.

Shit. Shit, shit! I internally scream and do my best to think invisible thoughts. The three seconds that they spend peering up past the trees feels like hours, and I’m terrified someone is going to hear the slamming of my heart against my sternum.

“Call off the ground search. We’ll double the air sentries. She won’t get far even with the storm rolling in to give her cover,” Ryn orders, and all but one of the guards turns around and heads back the way they came. The guard that didn’t move starts to look through the trees more carefully, and I know it’s only a matter of time before his hawk eyes land on me. I work to slow my panic-laced breathing and hope somehow I can outsmart or outfly the last remaining guard and Ryn. I stop myself from looking up to gauge how far I need to get before I hit treetop-free sky, knowing if I move even slightly, I might give myself away.

Ryn mumbles something to the guard, but I can’t make out what it is. A couple beats later, the guard stops his scanning of the massive trees around him and salutes Ryn before marching away. Ryn stands exactly where he is and scours the ground around him again. He pulls the charcoal-colored feather that clearly fell from one of my wings, through the palm of his other hand absently as he searches the ground for something. Each stroke of my abandoned feather through his strong fist sends a shiver higher and higher up my spine. It’s like I can feel the soft touch up my naked back and across the tops of my wings.

A slow heat starts to unfurl in me, and my brain and body start to war again. I want to jump down and replace the ghost of his touch with the real thing, and yet I know in my mind, that’s a dumb fucking thing to do. I bite the inside of my cheek and watch him crack his neck from side to side. He brings the feather up to his nose and pulls in a deep inhale. I can picture his dark gray eyes scanning everything around him, and I’m actively fighting against the part of me that wants him to look up and spot me.

Ryn tucks my feather inside the waist of his pants. I trace his shirtless torso with my eyes, caressing the dips and peaks of his muscles as he turns to follow the direction the guards disappeared in. Loss blooms inside of my traitorous body, and I hold in the relieved exhale that wants to escape out of my lips. I stand frozen against the tree trunk for probably way longer than necessary, but I can’t bring myself to move too soon. The thought that somehow this is all a trap keeps flashing like a warning in my mind, and I worry that as soon as I jump down, I’ll be pounced on by a bunch of guards.

I listen closely to the sounds of this strange forest all around me, but I don’t hear or see anything that makes me think my paranoia is justified. The sun drops even more, and the growing chill in the air finally spurs me into action. I step away from my hiding spot and scan the forest floor one more time before spreading my wings and jumping off the thirty-foot-high branch I’m standing on. My wings slow my rapid descent a little, and a surprised noise sneaks out of me when I land on my feet. This agile, land-like-a-cat thing is new, but I push past my awe and focus on what’s around me. I fold my wings back behind me and wait for any hint of a trap to reveal itself.

When nothing moves toward me and no new sounds of pursuit reach my ears, I sprint in the opposite direction Ryn and his guards went. I wince at my sore feet and slow a little, trying to pick my path better. I can’t afford to get hurt because I’m rushing, and I decide a steady brisk pace is probably smarter. I make sure to stick close to the massive trees surrounding me so the sentries in the sky can’t spot me easily. My body is sticky and gross from the residue of whatever fruit juice I got myself coated in when I crashed into the fruit stall, and my makeshift dress keeps trying to fall off.

I stop to tie it more securely, and I notice the faint sound of rushing water in the distance. My mouth goes even drier, and my body makes its demand for hydration known. Apparently, just the thought of water has my body moving toward it. I tie the too short, inadequate dress tighter around me and quietly make my way toward what sounds like a waterfall. I try to be as alert of my surroundings as I can be. So far I haven’t run into any scary animals, but I’m all too aware that I have no idea what exists in this forest. I weave between house-sized tree trunks, whose branches and needles hide me from the sky, until I reach the end of the tree line.

I stare out between two massive tree trunks at a small waterfall that feeds a daintily flowing stream. Steam rises off of the water, and that same unfamiliar musky scent the water in the bathroom had drifts over to where I’m standing, studying the foreign terrain. It must be some kind of hot spring, which explains where the warm water for my bath came from. Oddly, this water lacks the telltale sulfuric odor that the hot springs back home always seem to have. There’s a collection of small pools on either side of the narrow river, and I stare at them longingly. This isn’t the cool stream I was hoping for, but the steam rising off of this water beckons me all the same.

Warmth laps at my hiding spot, and my skin prickles, caught between the promised heat of the water and the cooling air of the night. The forest has welcomed dusk into its embrace, and the shadows stretch out, eager for the night. The light around me is fading fast, and everything is cloaked in the promise of more darkness with each passing minute. The sound of water plummeting from the small cliff above me fills my ears, and I slowly start to put together a plan. I can wash off, warm up, and either climb up into a tree and rest as much as I can for the night, or I can work on my shifting. If I can coax my gryphon into cooperation, then maybe we can make a break for it under the shroud of night.