Savage Beauty(6)

I blinked the dirt out of my eyes and groaned. I couldn’t sit up yet. I needed a moment to catch the breath that had been knocked out of me.

Where was Blackheart?

From several feet away, he let out an awful noise, something between a cry and a scream, and I knew he was gravely hurt. Panting through the pain, I managed to crawl toward him, clutching my ribs. His back legs were badly broken. The bones that weren’t shattered to pieces, stuck out of the skin. He could barely move his front legs.

They might be broken, too.

With tears in my eyes and a curse on my tongue, I pulled my hunting knife out, kneeling beside him and stroking his mane. I closed my eyes tightly and cradled his head.

The pain was overwhelming him.

“Shhh, boy. It’s going to be okay,” I soothed, stroking his black mane. “You’re a warrior.” With my head against his, I put my blade to his throat and quickly ended his misery. “I’m sorry,” I told him over the knot in my throat. “I’m so sorry.” Holding him, I watched his lifeblood pour onto the ground.

I held him, telling him all would be well soon, until his breaths became slower and less rhythmic. Then his muscles stopped twitching. Blackheart took one final breath, and then his enormous body fell limp.

He was gone, and it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed him to the border, nor should I have pushed Rolfe, who was probably still up there, chasing after me. I didn’t want him to fall over the cliff and end up in the same position as me.

The forest floor was slick and bloody, the coppery tang hanging in the air, though somehow the fog had receded entirely. I could tell my leg wasn’t broken, so I pushed myself up and stood, but I didn’t think I could walk on it for long.

“Rolfe!” I yelled, cupping my hands over my mouth. My voice carried, but I wondered if he was close enough to hear it. The forest was quiet, eerily so. Surely, I’d hear the galloping hooves of his horse if he were near.

I yelled again.

But no answer came.

Had he gone for help? I wiped the sweat from my brow, a thousand thoughts swirling through my mind. I didn’t know if his own horse would even mind him. It had been so spooked.

I sat back down beside Blackheart’s body, knowing that soon, the vultures would scent his blood and descend, if something bigger didn’t find him first. Leaving him was an awful feeling, but there was no other way. If a predator came, I would be the only thing standing between it and its next meal, and I was in no shape to defend myself with a simple knife. My bow lay in splinters where I fell. It was a wonder it didn’t skewer me.

If Rolfe was still out there, I needed to warn him away from the cliff. And if he wasn’t near enough to help, I needed to find a way to the top of the cliff and out of this blasted forest. Everywhere I looked, there was nothing but a sharp drop off. There was nothing to help me climb up the cliff again—not in the shape I was in.

I stuck my hunting knife in the earth and tried to lift myself up. My shoulder screamed, but I managed to make it a few feet. There were no footholds. The dirt was loose and dry, and my ankle was too painful and weak to help push me up. Panting against the pain, I growled, trying futilely to climb higher.

After only making it a few feet, I slipped back down to the bottom. If my ribs hadn’t been broken, I could have used the knife to help me climb up, but in this state, I couldn’t hold my own weight.

“Rolfe!” I yelled.

He never answered. I blew out an exasperated breath. He wasn’t going to answer. He wasn’t going to find me here. Blackheart carried me too far into the dark forest, too quickly.

I made it to my feet, stumbled as far as I could, and then rested before pushing forward again. I would find a way out of this hell hole one way or another.



Morning faded to afternoon and afternoon to evening. The blue sky darkened, revealing twinkling stars. Wiping the sweat and dirt from my forehead, I slumped against a boulder. I’d walked for what felt like a thousand miles, never finding a way out. It was like the earth had sunk twenty feet and there was no way out of the hellish hole I found myself in.

Rolfe had, no doubt, turned back. He would call for a search party and return with help, but when? Would they find me here, or had I already wandered too far out of their reach?

At this rate, the vultures will be looking for me soon, too.

Letting my head bang against the rock, I cursed. Cursed myself, my injuries, this damned forest, and life itself. I would fail my father and mother. Their hearts would be torn apart, just as they were when William disappeared.

Did he suffer the same fate?

Groaning, I looked to the sky, hoping for a miracle but not expecting to find one. In that moment, when all seemed lost, a miracle curled into the sky in the form of a small plume of gray smoke.

Finally, a sign of life.



I limped in the direction of the curling smoke, clutching the ribs I knew were broken. They reminded me of the fact with each and every breath I took. Not far into the woods from where I rested, I found a cottage. Its dark, wooden plank siding was symmetrical and clean. The ground around it was bare, the grass short and dead, completely dry and crunching underfoot. With the exception of the smoke, the place looked abandoned. I walked closer, past a small garden on the side of the house, which was flourishing, even though some of the vegetables and fruits should have been dormant. It wasn’t their season to grow.