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“You’re right; fear does interfere with magical ability. You saw what happened when I got the initial fright.” Perhaps he was right to leave me sleeping. The other wolves arrived soon after I woke up.

He nods once.

“Next time, wake me up, anyway. That was…it was terrifying. If not for my magic, we might very well be dead.”

“We’re not. We’re still here; let’s concentrate on that.”

“You’re right…I guess.”

“Would it be okay if I rested now? Or do you need more sleep?”

“No…please, be my guest.” I realize that I’m still sitting on the bedroll and get up. “I’ll keep watch,” I say as I pull my cape more firmly around me.

Alaric gets into the bed, pulling up the blanket.

“Sleep well,” I tell him.

He makes a noise of agreement. Within no time, his breathing changes as he falls asleep.

I can’t believe that he wants to come to the Regana Mountains with me. I will have to change his mind on that. My people will tear him to pieces.

The good news is that I have a few days to convince him. The bad news is that we might not survive the journey.

11

McColl

Nightfall the next day…

The sky starts to turn gray. Soon, there will be a murky light that will filter through an overhead haze, thick with black clouds. There won’t be enough light to speak of today. Not that it matters to us, since we will be asleep soon, anyway.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get some rest before crossing the bridge? If we don’t take shelter soon, we’re going to get soaked. Not to mention that the horses are tired.” I pat my pony’s neck. He stumbled a little while ago, which isn’t like him. He’s walking with his head low; the spring left his step a while back.

“Very sure.” Alaric turns his bright green eyes on me.

For a moment, I just look into them. I would blame fatigue, but it isn’t that. He has great eyes, even for a fae. I wish I didn’t notice them, him…but I do.

I shouldn’t be having thoughts like these. Not right now. The first drops of rain start to fall, spattering on my face, so I pull up the hood on my cape. I probably deserve to be soaked with icy rain.

“Here we go,” I mutter.

Alaric does the same with the hood of his oilskin coat, and I’m glad I don’t have to look at his handsome features anymore.

“I could cast a spell to keep us dry,” I suggest.

“No.” Alaric shakes his head. “Save your power for if we really need it. There is risk in crossing that bridge, but once we’re over, we can find a place to rest and get dry.”

“You’re afraid they’re going to wait for us there, aren’t you? Ambush us as we cross.”

“That’s what I would do.” He lifts his brows. “They must know we’re going to Witch Mountain. Or at least that you’re going there. They know I’m with you, or more than likely with you, since I rescued you. That means we have to cross this bridge. It’s a safe bet. I only hope we have beaten them there.”

“Me, too. We’ve ridden hard.”

He makes a sound of agreement. I don’t like the tension in his voice. It’s unlike him.

The rain picks up, so I tighten the hood of my cape and urge my horse forward, following Alaric as we make our way toward the bridge. It pelts down, soaking through any of our clothing that isn’t properly covered. The bottom of my dress is a sodden mess. The relentless downpour is making the ground slick beneath our horses’ hooves. The sound of the rain is loud, drowning out any other noise around us.

It's miserable, but I understand Alaric’s thinking. We need to keep going, regardless.