Page 92 of Famine

“What?” he finally demands, his gaze moving down to me.

I shake my head.

He sighs. “Whatever’s on your mind, just say it.”

“You’re different today.”

He arches one eyebrow, his green eyes glittering. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, studying his face as though it holds the answers. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Could it have simply been what I said last night? Famine has made an exception of me since we reunited, but when I explained a bit about my own troubled past, his demeanor shifted, and it hasn’t shifted back.

And now he’s been acting … notnicer, necessarily, but—I don’t know—more relatable maybe?

We spend the whole day traveling. Long after the sun has set, we’re still in the saddle. Just when I’m sure Famine is going to make me sleep on his horse again, he turns off the highway.

“What are you doing?” I yawn.

“Finding a place for you to rest.” He doesn’t sound particularly pleased by this.

My stomach drops at that. “I don’t want to stop.” Not if it means Famine might kill someone else.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I know you’re tired.”

“I’m fine, I swear.”

There’s a long pause, then—

“Whatever stranger you seek to protect, they will die anyway. The moment we pass them, their lands will blacken, the soil will turn unforgiving. A quick death is kinder.”

I shake my head. “Please. Just ride on.”

But he doesn’t. A mere fifteen minutes later the horseman directs his steed to a dark structure. Famine rides up to what appears to be a home and hops off his mount.

I’m not getting off the horse, I’mnot.

But then Famine grabs me by the waist and pulls me easily off his steed.

Setting me down, he holds me close, and I stare into his eyes.

“Please don’t, Famine.”

He sighs. “While I appreciate that you always assume the worst of me, you’re wrong this time.”

I frown, confused. “I don’t understand …”

“Go inside and see for yourself.”

I glance at the ominous structure, and I almost say,you first. But then, I know how that story ends.

With lots and lots of dead bodies.

Swallowing down my fear, I head towards the door. It’s only once I’m standing on the stoop that I understand what the Reaper meant.

Overgrown shrubs press against the doorway, almost completely blocking it from view.

Famine steps up next to me and brushes the plants aside with his hand. It’s too dark to see anything clearly, but the plants seem to be curling back in on themselves to reveal the rotted front door.