Page 99 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

Trusting him to know himself, we sorted out our belongings, taking only what was essential, then I pulled on our remaining pack and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands slid around my waist, and he lifted me so I could wrap my legs around him. With his arms clasping me tightly against his chest, he leapt from the branch, going into a free fall. My stomach shot into my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut until his wings snapped up and carried us through the branches and above the treeline.

From here, the sunrise was a beautiful mix of oranges and golds, casting the entire forest in amber. The breeze was warm and soft, and I squinted into the Never Sea beyond the hills. We were close. As long as everything else went well, that three-day deadline would be manageable.

But that was a big as long as.

I turned my attention ahead of us, to where another set of rolling hills stretched out past the trees, culminating in a higher ridge that curved in on itself, looking everything like a bowed head.

“That’s it,” I said, awed by what nature had created. For a moment, I almost had to thank Tersey for giving me the opportunity to see the beauties of the world I never would have discovered if I’d stayed buried in my research. Then I remembered the spike pit and the fire in the cave and resumed cursing his name. I might have been able to appreciate these beauties just as well without the near-death experiences along the way.

Cammon set us down at the top of the Widow’s Hood, and I read through the clue again. Right. The monsters. The shrine. The trees.

I groaned and looked around us, braced for all kinds of threats to close in now that we were here.

Since there was no shrine at the top of the hill, I started down the incline towards where the hill appeared to be bowing. Sure enough, tucked under rock and grass was a tiny alcove with a stone basin, the rim of it covered in looping script.

I looked over my shoulder at the treeline. We’d slept in those woods last night. That giant tree hadn’t moved at all as far as I’d been aware. So what monsters were we supposed to brace for?

“I’ll keep watch,” Cammon said from the top of the hill. “You read and tell me what dance the two of us need to perform to get out of here alive.”

I twisted my lips in a wry smile, appreciating the source of his cynicism, and read the words written across the stone.

Where water falls, the next clue waits, for by the tree, the final gate. Open the door and you will find, a map to lead

The scrawl ended midsentence, with no indication that the rest of the message was written elsewhere. I frowned and read it again, certain I’d missed something.

Was the unfinished poem part of the instructions?

There had to be more to it, yet when I ran my fingers under the bottom of the basin, I found the drawer easily enough. No buttons, no apparent tricks. There was even a little handle that made it easy to pull out. Which I didn’t. Not yet.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone. The atmosphere was tense, like something was waiting, primed and ready to go off. But nothing moved. The trees behind us swayed in the wind, birds flitted from branch to branch, animals scurried through the underbrush.

I didn’t trust the peacefulness. Even if I ignored the threat of the mutts, every step of the way, these puzzles had been a trap. I turned back to the shrine and paid extra attention to the space behind it, to the base, to the centre of the basin. When I found nothing, I went over it all again.

“Everything all right?” Cammon called when I’d gone over the entire area five times and found no hint that the rest of the instructions were anywhere. The paranoia ate at me, and I wondered if that was Tersey’s trick this time, getting into my head so I was too afraid to open the damned drawer.

“I don’t know. The instructions look like they were interrupted. I’m not sure if opening this drawer will cause everything to devolve into chaos.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “After everything, we’re no strangers to chaos, Buttons. I vote for jumping in with both feet.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered under my breath, but I felt nothing but affection as I said it, and the returning wave of gentle amusement was so natural, so soft and gentle and intimate, that I basked in the dual flow of warmth.

I quickly shook it off, took a deep breath, and yanked the drawer open. The stone slid out of its slot, and a piece of parchment fell into my hand. I remained still, braced, waiting, but after a count to thirty, nothing happened.

Cautiously, I gripped the parchment and took three steps backwards away from the shrine.

No monsters jumped out at me. The trees remained where they were.

“Well,” I said. “That was anticlimactic.”

The promise of increasingly difficult puzzles taunted me, and the lack of danger was almost a disappointment.

“What does the clue say?” Cammon asked, coming down the hill and peering over my shoulder. He rested his hand on my waist, the heat of his palm sinking through my shirt into my flesh and blood.

I unfurled the parchment and took in the few brief words. No poem this time. Just a simple map with instructions written in Ancient Folish.

“‘Follow the path to watery ruin. The amulet rests under the red oak tree.’”

Together, we stared at the map. The very small map that showed a single line following a single path towards a single tree.