Page 49 of Embrace the Serpent

Faintly, from the direction of my ankles, came a soft “Srzzp.” Grimney gripped my torn skirts, looking small and terrified.

“Oh gods.” I knelt and cradled him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He patted my cheek.

“That was rather silly of me, wasn’t it?”

A bird trilled behind me, and another answered deep within the trees. The forest stretched dark and terrifying, and the Serpent King was in there, covered in blood—

No, thank you.

I got up. “Let’s go that way.”

The dirt road stretched into the distance, ringing around the hills like the last bit of hair around a bald man’s head.

“Gwzzl?” Grimney asked.

“We’re doing what you wanted,” I said. “We’re running.”

Grimney sat on my shoulder, and we set off.

I was moderately certain that we were heading in the opposite direction of the Imperial Guards and the Serpent King, though I couldn’t be sure, on account of my mad little run in the forest. I stuck to the tree line in case I needed to duck out of sight of someone coming along the road.

It was quite generous of ’em to call it a road. It was more a farmer’s track, with twin grooves scored into the earth by the wide wheels of oxcarts. Unlike the Imperial Road, it was too narrow for the marching of battalions of soldiers, and it was too meandering for anyone who wanted to get anywhere fast.

The sun had lowered enough to shoot right into my eyes. My legs ached. Somewhere behind me was the future Rane promised. And maybe it was a better deal than whatever I was headed toward, with no plan and no money. But the Serpent King had become a problem. And the wonderful thing about problems is that you can choose not to face them.

Grimney moaned.

“Are wewhereyet? Do you see anything?”

He grumbled.

“Darling, if you have energy to complain, why don’t you carry me for a bit, eh?”

He pinched my ear.

A clip-clop of hooves. I dove into the trees.

An oxcart shambled up the dirt road, driven by a stout farmer. She looked friendly enough, I supposed. She was frowning, but that might just have been how her face looked. The kerchief covering her hair was embroidered with cute yellow flowers, and no one with a sour disposition would go for that. Probably.

But maybe it was better to walk. No need to owe someone.

Grimney barked in my ear.

I yelped, and the farmer turned her head. I pocketed Grimney, took a deep breath, and hurried onto the road.

She clicked her teeth, and her oxen slowed to a stop.

“Could you give me a lift?” I asked.

Her eyebrows disappeared under her kerchief as she looked me up and down.

Oh. The hem of my dress was more mud than fabric, and what was still cloth was torn and hanging in shreds. Her gaze went up, and I patted my hair. My hands met a mass of knots studded with twigs. A spider fell onto my shoulder, and I jerked my arm until it fled.

Her frown deepened.

“I’m sorry, never mind,” I said.