White Stag (Permafrost #1)(26)

Focus. You need to warn them. There was a hunt going on, and I wouldn’t put it past any goblin to kill them for sport. It was obvious they weren’t the ones who had slain the goblin hanging from the tree. They were muscled, yes, but their steel glittered without the tarnish a goblin’s blood would’ve made, and I wasn’t about to believe that even a group of grown men could take on a single brute and survive without injury.

I found my voice. “You need to leave here.”

At once, the laughter stopped. One of the men, a big one with reddish hair, grabbed an axe from the ground; quickly, the other four followed suit. I stepped out from behind the trees, lowering my bow. When approaching prey animals, it’s necessary not to frighten them. One of my father’s early teachings came back to me. They were prey animals, what with the way they cast their eyes from side to side, looking for an escape, the twitchy nerves that showed even as they gripped their weapons so tight the skin of their knuckles turned white.

“Who are you?” the redheaded man asked. Then he narrowed his eyes and looked me over more carefully, taking in my clothes, my hair, all the goblin-made weaponry that adorned my body. Hot shame flooded through my veins. Of course they don’t trust me.

“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “But there are three goblins very close to here. They’re on a hunt. The Hunt. Actually, you’ve picked the worst time to be here. The Permafrost is crawling with goblins who are trying to kill everything worth killing. You should leave before they find you—they’ll come sooner or later. If you can get out of the Permafrost before they do, you might have a chance.”

Yes, running was their only chance. I’d bet ten to one even Rekke could hold her own and win against their strongest man.

“Thorsten,” a yellow-haired man said, coming up beside the redheaded one. “Look at her.”

“I’m looking.” The redheaded man—Thorsten—scratched his beard. “Where are you from, girl? Why are you out here so deep in the ’frost? Don’t you know it isn’t safe?”

“I could ask the same of you,” I retorted.

“The pelts from the animals here fetch a pretty price, we’ve heard,” he said, smiling. “Of course, you have to be skilled enough to catch whatever is in this barren wasteland.”

A bead of anger rose in me. What did they know of a barren wasteland? “You don’t strike me as suicidal.”

“Appearances can be deceiving. Why are you dressed like a goblin, for instance?” asked another man, this one with dark skin.

I bit my lip. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you need to leave.”

Thorsten narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve been here for a long time, haven’t you?” He shook his head, and his hand brushed against the butt of his axe. I raised my bow slightly. “That’s not natural. I can smell the Permafrost on you.”

Thorsten came forward, his tall and broad shape looming over me. I pointed my arrow at his chest. “Don’t come closer.”

Thorsten stopped where he was. “How long have you been out here?”

“Long enough,” I said. A hard pit formed in my gut. These men should’ve been grateful I’d warned them. They should’ve scurried far away and saved their lives. But they were slowly approaching, their weapons drawn. “Look, I’m not your enemy.”

The yellow-haired man said, “You know, one of the burnt lands near here was said to have a survivor, a long, long time ago. But after that long … it’s not like they could be fully human anymore. At least, something must have changed for them to betray their own kind.”

“I am human,” I said. Burnt lands. That was the term for the human lands bordering the Permafrost that had been raided until nothing was left. My home was now a burnt land.

The dark-skinned man eased a hunting knife from his boots. “You don’t look very human,” he said, creeping forward.

I pointed the bow to him. “Tell me about this burnt land where there was a survivor. Was the village called Elvenhule?”

He nodded slowly. Movement startled me from the corner of my eyes as the other men inched even closer. The gleam of an axe caught my vision, and I snarled, ducking out of the way before it could come crashing into my skull. Red filled my mind, and I let loose an arrow, only to realize too late I was shooting at a man I’d been trying to save. But they challenged you, a voice said. They want to kill you.

The man fell to his knees, grabbing at the arrow in his gut. Not a clean shot. I could’ve done much better if I had really tried. It would kill him all the same.

“Where is the village—where is what was left of it?” I shouted. “Tell me!”

“Two days hard riding south and another three days southeast,” Thorsten said. “But you’ll never get there. It’s not like any human would accept you.”

The yellow-haired man nodded. “You’ve lost yourself. This long in the Permafrost, you must have become savage to survive. You’re nothing anymore. You’ll never be human again. You’re confused, violent, mixed with everything unholy. It’s sickening, but what can you expect from those creatures?”

“You’re better off dead, really.”

In an instant I recognized the subtle shift that came when someone gripped their weapon to go for the kill, and I loosed an arrow shaft straight into one of the men’s chests.