Kinked (Elder Races #6)(46)

She shook her head. “We don’t know what happened. But they didn’t leave anybody at their post.”

He said slowly, “Which means that, if they came here, they were dealing with something that took all of their combined strength and concentration.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I just think until we know something, we’d better be wary.”

“Good point.” He turned away from the open doorway and looked across the scenery again. “Let’s see how far we can get before the sun sets.”

It needed to be said. She told him quietly, “You know they might be dead, right? I mean, there’s no recent sign of them anywhere that we expected them to be.”

His jaw and body tightened. He didn’t look at her. “Anything’s possible. Including that.”

After a moment, she sighed. “Well, hopefully we’ll discover a much less catastrophic explanation for what’s happened. Ready?”

He nodded. She took a few moments to repack her things, and he did the same. Guns and ammo went into the special side pocket created just to carry them. Combustible technologies didn’t work in Other lands, and guns were worse than useless. They were downright dangerous.

They strapped on short swords at the hip, stuffed sweaters inside the packs, and tied jackets to the outside. As soon as they were ready, she followed him down the path that wound down to the lower surface some distance away.

Nearby, a path led into the trees. The ground looked like it had been well trodden, but fronds of leafy, delicate greenery had grown over it. After considering it, they looked at each other.

Quentin shook his head. Following it was too obvious.

She agreed. She nodded.

They stepped into the forest about twenty yards away from the path and moved quietly through the underbrush. For a long time they remained surrounded by a silence that was heavy with the lingering heat of the day.

The sunlight faded as full night approached, deepening the shadows on the forest floor. Her sharp hearing caught the furtive sounds of rustling in the distance, but nothing moved anywhere near them. The wild creatures that lived here sensed their presence.

I want to hunt, she said in Quentin’s head.

He hesitated. Fresh meat sounds good.

He didn’t need to explain his hesitation. Lighting a fire to cook a meal would broadcast their presence more loudly than using the overgrown path would. She could eat raw meat, but she had lost her taste for it many generations ago. It was one of the things she had lost to civilization.

She sighed. Maybe tomorrow.

Definitely tomorrow, he said. Either that or we need to harvest more food supplies from any living quarters we find. We’ve eaten almost everything we brought with us.

How they acquired food might very well be dictated by what they found. It made sense for them to go quickly and quietly into Numenlaur as an initial approach, but if they didn’t find anything unusual, there would be no reason to remain quiet. Then they could hunt, cook and harvest food supplies in any way they liked.

Okay.

After that they didn’t speak for some time. They kept moving until she could see glimpses of the moon through the branches of the trees. While the temperature cooled with full night, the constant breeze that sighed in the trees overhead rarely reached the forest floor, where the air remained close and warm.

They came to a stream where the streambed itself was much wider than the modest flow of water that currently ran down the middle. The abundant foliage spoke of plenty of rainfall, so the land wasn’t under a drought. The stream probably carried the snow runoff from higher ground during the spring, then shrank in size during the summer months.

It created a widened area, much like a clearing. To their left, the path that they had been following led to a long stone bridge that spanned the entire streambed.

When they stepped out from underneath the trees, the air felt much cooler. They both moved to drink their fill of the delicious, pure liquid, scooping it in handfuls. When Aryal had finished, she dumped a handful of water at the back of her neck. The cold trickle of water on her sweaty skin was both a shock and a relief. She wiped her mouth and sat back on her heels to look up at the night sky.

The stars were so sharp, clear and bright, they looked as though she might be able to pluck them from the sky if she flew as high as she could. The moon was massive, appearing three times larger than what could be seen from Earth, and it was partially obscured by the top of the trees.

“We might as well take a break,” Quentin muttered.

“Works for me.” Aryal moved to the edge of the forest where she found a dry, grassy place. She threw down her things and sprawled beside them, loosening the sword buckled at her hip.

Quentin padded over to join her, setting his pack alongside hers. She noticed all over again how he moved silently, despite his size. He levered himself down to the ground beside her with his usual cat’s grace. He hardly ever lost his footing, and when he did, he recovered himself quicker than almost anyone else she knew.

His body and his face might be in deep shadow, but she knew better than ever just what he looked like. Not only what he looked like, but how the most private part of him tasted.

The image of him, tied and spread out in front of her like a feast, flashed through her mind, and she reacted physically, hunger flaring again in a sharp, urgent pulse. Gods, he had been perfect in every detail, golden tanned skin, lean-muscled body, and an aura of danger that was to her as intoxicating as catnip. He really hadn’t liked it when she tied him down. She could tell by the muscle that bunched in his jaw. But he had submitted, and that had been an epic moment.