Across the Green Grass Fields (Wayward Children, #6)(34)
“I’ll try to avoid the second part,” said Regan, and walked into the trees, leaving the kelpie behind.
It was odd, being this far away from home with no idea how she would go about getting back there. She had known she had to leave, but she hadn’t considered the homesickness that would follow, or the loneliness.
She didn’t have to walk far before she stepped into a clearing dominated by a small lake. It was big enough for her to swim until her arms gave out without touching the other side. She was, or appeared to be, alone.
Dropping her things on the flat-packed ground, Regan cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Are there any kelpies here?”
An echo caught her voice and flung it to the lake’s far shore. No shaggy black heads rose out of the depths. Regan lowered her hands.
“If there are, I guess they don’t want to chat,” she said, and unbuckled her belt, dropping it next to her bow. Her tunic was the next to go, until she stood before the water as naked as the day she’d been born. She walked into the lake.
The water was cold, but that was no trouble; it had been five years since she’d touched water warmer than the sunlight, and it didn’t bother her anymore, even when it left her blue-lipped and shivering. She waded until the lake touched her shoulders, and then she ducked under, letting it sluice through her hair and wash away the long day’s journey. The chill bite of the water soothed her thoughts in tandem with her aching muscles, and she surfaced into a better world.
Assuming one could call a ring of kelpies “a better world.” The water horses watched her with hungry eyes, fangs on full display and ears tight against their heads. Regan blinked. No fear followed. The centaurs had protected her too well, and Gristle had carried her too far, and she could never truly fear something that looked so much like her beloved horses.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Regan. I’m supposed to save the world, and I can’t do that if you eat me.”
The kelpies exchanged uncertain glances before backing away in the water, their ears coming up in curiosity. Whatever they’d been expecting from a human, it wasn’t pleasantness, wasn’t politeness. Regan smiled as they retreated, ducking under the water again to give her hair one more good rinsing before she began to paddle toward the shore. Several kelpies followed, although they stayed in the shallows, lurking and watching her as she got out of the water. Regan wrung the water out of her hair and turned to face them, a smile on her face.
“Thank you for not eating me,” she said as Gristle came trotting through the woods. He snorted when he saw the other kelpies, and moved to put his body protectively between them and Regan. Regan put a hand on his neck, trying to soothe him.
“They didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “They just came to see who was swimming in their lake.”
“It’s the human,” said one of the kelpies. “Why is the human here? The human is supposed to be far away from here, with the centaurs, inciting the Queen’s wrath.”
Gristle tossed his head. “I brought her here. She rode me. I’m taking her to the Queen.”
“To claim the bounty?” asked another kelpie, sounding confused. “What will you do with money?”
“No! To save the world!” Gristle snarled like a dog, keeping himself between Regan and the others. “She will do what she came here to do, and then we can devour her!”
Regan gave him a shocked look. “Did you offer to help me just so you could be the one to eat me?”
“And what if I did? I told you I would be the one to eat you! You’re still being helped, and I’ve made no attempt to hide my nature. I am a kelpie, not some soft, civilized thing.”
“Unbelievable.” Regan began gathering her clothes from the bank, yanking them on. “And to think I groomed you after you brought me here.”
“Where are you going, human?”
“To find a tree I can sleep in. I’ll be safe there.” She wasn’t actually sure. Perytons couldn’t climb, but they could fly, and they were meat-eaters as much as the kelpies were. She gave the kelpie a withering look as she picked up her things. “You can sleep with the roots if you don’t want to lose sight of me.”
She spun and stalked into the wood. A moment later she heard hoofbeats moving behind her, and smiled, knowing that Gristle was following. She wouldn’t be spending the night alone.
It didn’t take long to find a suitable tree. She reached up to grab the lowest branch and began pulling herself up, climbing with the casual ease of long practice. When she finally looked down, Gristle was standing by the tree, watching her.
“This is normal for humans?” he asked.
“We’re pretty arboreal, yeah,” she said, and kept climbing until she had reached a branch long and broad enough for her to stretch out on, letting her arms dangle. “Adult humans don’t climb as much, but for children, climbing is a natural instinct.”
“Like eating is for kelpies,” said Gristle. He sounded relieved. “You don’t fight your nature. You can’t expect me to fight mine.”
“I suppose I can’t,” said Regan thoughtfully. “But you have to swear not to eat me until after I’ve done whatever I have to do to save the world.”
“You have my word,” he said.
“Good.” She hung her bow from a nearby branch, tucked her pack under her head, and closed her eyes, and everything was silence as girl and kelpie slept.