Warrior of the Wild(22)

“You just saved Soren. I shouldn’t.”

“Say it anyway.”

“All right. Rasmira, was it? There’s no delicate way to put this, so let me be up front. You’re never returning home. No one completes their mattugr. They’re designed to be unbeatable. We are the ones no one wants, the ones everyone is ashamed of. The sooner you accept that, the better off you will be. You will never see your family or friends ever again.

“And your so-called goddess? What kind of gracious deity demands that her subjects die horribly in order to be received into her Paradise? Dying horribly is stupid. I suggest you make yourself a shelter, get yourself into a routine, and accept that this is your new life.

“Welcome to the wild.”





CHAPTER


6


Bastard.

I’m glad to be free of that stuffy tree house full of idiot males.

Somehow I manage to find the road again. I walk down it for several minutes before crossing to the other side and plunging into the foliage. Everything Iric told me was false and ignorant, but he was right about one thing. I need shelter. It’s foolish to travel any longer without having a place to rest safely. I’m running on embers. It won’t be long before they snuff out and my body demands the sleep it so desperately needs. I’ll be as helpless as Soren in a moment.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for until I find it.

I enter a small clearing. A gap in the foliage allows sunlight to shine down, which must support the short grasses breaking through the rocky soil. The same type of tree that I saw supporting the boys’ house stands at one edge of the clearing. I recognize it by the leaves, each one bigger than the size of my head. They’re green along the edges but a deep purple in the center.

Soren said there were trees that didn’t crumble after they were cut. This must be one of them if it’s supporting a whole house off the ground. I let my pack fall from my shoulders, take my ax in my hands, and start chopping. The branches toward the bottom of the purple-leafed tree are thick and strong, each the width of one of my legs. I cut several from the trunk, trim them to size, and nick the smaller branches from off their sides.

I roll the logs over to the other side of my new space. Another tree, this one with an enormous, smooth brown-black trunk, stretches high into the sky. I prop the branches I cut against it, wedging them between the rocks on the ground, shaping the wood as necessary to get a good fit. When my little fort is long enough for me to stretch out comfortably within, I roll out my bedroll, throw my pack at the top to use as a pillow, and go in search of something to serve as a door.

It’s not long before the perfect solution presents itself, for if there’s anything to be found in the wild in abundance, it’s wood.

A strip of bark, intact, strong, and wide, rests near a fallen log, having long since peeled from its trunk.

I lift it from the ground—it’s heavier than I thought—and haul it over to my little fort. I squeeze myself inside, rest the bark against the opening, and fall onto my bedroll.

I’m out in seconds.



* * *



MY TIRED EYES CRACK OPEN. I’m not sure how long I slept, but by the crick in my neck and the desperate need to go, I suspect it was a very long time.

I’m surprised to still be alive. I thought for sure something would find me when I was asleep and vulnerable, that my attempt at a shelter would be useless against the wild.

But Soren was correct. The wood remains strong. My fort held.

After taking care of my morning needs, I place the bark back over the opening of my fort, hoist my pack over my shoulders, slide my ax through the strap on my back, and head for the stream I hear bubbling nearby.

I still have Soren’s blood caked to my skin. I do my best to wash up in the freezing water with a bar of soap I brought from home. By the time I get the last of it out from under my fingernails, my hands are trembling from the cold. I refill my canteen and immediately start rubbing my fingers together for warmth as I find the road again.

Today I will look for the god. I put Iric’s cynical words out of my mind and replace them with my sister’s.

You will try, won’t you? Promise me.

I promised. I will try.

I step carefully along the road, listening for cackles from the ziken, which are especially active during the day. I watch the ground for snaketraps. I avoid the agger vines that dangle over the road. One brush of the stinging leaves, and my skin will break out in itching hives. We have a few of the plants inside Seravin’s boundaries.

An hour goes by, and all I can think about is how careful I must be. Today’s mission is to find the god. No more. I must observe him, see if there’s a weakness I can exploit.

I feel childish for even thinking it. He’s an immortal god who has wiped out whole villages when they displeased him. If he had a weakness, someone smarter, stronger, or more skilled than I would have learned it by now.

The road continues toward the mountain. Another hour passes, and everything becomes so overgrown and just … wild. I don’t think anyone besides Peruxolo has ever traveled this way before.

I can’t see anything through the brambles and thick trees on either side of the road, if it can even still be called that. Tall weeds grow in the space between where the wheels would have rolled, though they’re now bent. Even the lines where the wheels have trod are sporting smaller, now-crushed plants.