Page 23 of Maneater

With my chin propped on my left hand, I leaned over the bar, tracing charcoal along the parchment Caz had given me the day before.

Last night, he’d said, Reading and writing go hand-in-hand. It’s almost easier to learn both at the same time, rather than separately. I thought you might appreciate doing both.

So after tending to the inn and making breakfast, I began tracing the symbols— letters —over and over on the parchment.

Writing my name felt strange at first, but as I kept at it, I was swept up in a wave of emotions.

Sadness, for the education I never had. Happiness, for meeting Caz and discovering the joy of learning to read and write.

Anger, for the circumstances I was born into.

Pride, for learning something new. And hope, something I rarely felt before.

It was odd, feeling so many things at once.

I suppose I had Caz to thank for that.

I was so focused on tracing the letters that I didn’t even realize he’d sat down at the bar. Caz was watching me with that scholarly look of his, but it never came off as judgmental. It was always welcoming .

“The sun hasn’t even risen yet, and you’ve already written your name forty-seven times,” Caz remarked.

“I just checked on Bell, and it looks like the stable’s been handled.

And judging by the smell of oats and the two packs you’ve got there, you’ve already made breakfast for the inn and for us.

” He nodded toward the rations I’d packed for our ride.

“You really are something else, Odessa.”

“I get restless in the mornings,” I said, shrugging him off.

“So what exactly am I paying Griffin for if you’re still doing all this?” Caz gave me a knowing look.

I shot him one right back. “A few guests said Griffin’s breakfast yesterday was ‘not worth a damn half-penny.’ I can’t let him run his own inn into the ground, can I?”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You’ve got a good heart, you know.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling a bit awkward as I focused on tracing the ‘O’ in my name, making it bolder just to avoid looking up.

“I’m packed and ready. Shall we go? We made great progress yesterday, and if we keep at this pace, we’ll have the map finished before long.”

“Sure, might as well.” I folded the parchment and tucked it into my apron pocket alongside the charcoal. “Hope you’re in the mood for bread and cheese again,” I said, holding up the two bundles. “It’s all we’ve got.”

“I’ll enjoy it just the same,” Caz replied with a smile, then headed toward the stables, motioning for me to follow.

He helped me mount Bellona again, and we took off at a gallop down the main route.

This time, he pushed the pace, wanting to make the most of the daylight.

The farther we went into the forest to map, the longer it took to reach previous day’s stopping point.

We were moving fast enough that talking became difficult, but I didn’t mind the silence.

When we finally reached the spot where Caz had placed a pin to mark where we left off, he helped me down and began unpacking his tools.

Today’s path led us deeper into a new part of the forest where the trees had clearly begun to rot.

Caz approached a nearby trunk and studied its bark.

It looked sickly, gray, withered, and dying.

A strange yellowish pus had collected in the cracks.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured. “Is this what you meant earlier, about the forest rotting?”

“Yes,” I replied, stepping closer. “Some trees are fine, the sickness hasn’t reached them yet.

But trees like this one, they’re dying. It usually takes years, but it spreads to the branches, and they’ll never bloom again.

We leave trees like these be. No one knows what might happen if we don’t.

If folks leave them alone, the sickness tends to keep to itself. ”

“I should take a sample to bring back to the Academy,” Caz said, examining the bark again.

“It’s best you don’t touch those, Caz.” I cleared my throat and took Bellona’s reins, nodding toward the forest. “If we head out now, we should be able to reach one of the creeks by today.”

“You’re right, I need to stay focused,” Caz replied, though he still sounded distracted. “Creeks, did you say?”

“There’s one just down the road, where folk cast praying stones. They ask for protection and good fortune.”

“Is that so?” Caz murmured, turning away from the rotting tree and toward his mapping tools. “Would you say the folk of Brier Len are particularly religious?”

I thought for a moment before answering. “I’d say so. We worship the old gods, just like everyone else. And we fear devils the same way.”

“I see,” Caz said with a nod. “Theology, that’s what we call the study of religion at the Academy.

We once had a Master of Theology speak at a spring symposium.

He talked about the old gods and their ways, as well as the nature of devils.

He said belief is the one thing that binds folk together, though it’s felt more deeply in some regions than others.

He also said just as many acts of kindness have been done in their names as terrible ones.

” He started walking again. “I found it interesting.”

I nodded slowly. “I’ve heard that devils are more drawn to the outskirts,” I said, following after him as the chain of metal unwound with every step.

“Maybe that’s why skirtsfolk pray to the old gods so often.

Maybe it’s why the woods are dying. Upland folk say the veil between our world and the devil’s realm is thinnest in Brier Len, which is why there’s more danger here.

It’s also why the kingdom keeps its distance.

Some say we should leave things be, but I think the King just doesn’t care about us. ”

“I’m sorry your folk don’t see much support from the Crown,” Caz said quietly. “As a scholar, I’ve only known its benefits. I admit, this assignment has shown me a different side of things. Even before Brier Len, the cities I visited were well-funded. I didn’t realize how... rustic it is out here.”

“You mean old, poor, and run-down?” I scoffed. “It’s fine. We skirtsfolk get by. We always have.”

“You’re proof there’s still good out here, despite everything,” Caz said, flashing a lopsided smile and nudging me with his elbow.

“Another sixty-six paces down, that’s five hundred twenty-eight total.

Time really does pass quickly when we’re together, don’t you think?

Maybe I should always bring you along when I’m surveying. ”

“I don’t know,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “My going rate is pretty high. The Academy might not be thrilled about that. I’m worth at least twelve saddles.”

Caz laughed out loud richly. “You’ve got a knack for humor, Odessa,” he said, shaking his head. With a sigh, he placed a survey marker on the ground and reset his chain. “You’ve got a bright future as a reader, writer, or jester. Whatever your calling is.”

“Careful, Caz,” I warned. “The creek may look shallow, but the water can turn. I’ve heard of folk getting swept away when it rises. Whether it’s the doing of a god or a devil, skirtsfolk around here always mind where they step. ”

“I’ll be fine. Do I really need to remind you I’ve surveyed the entire coast of the Miralune Isles? This is nothing.” Caz waved it off. “So, speaking of devils, have you ever come across one?” His voice was genuine, full of curiosity.

“No,” I murmured. “I’ve never seen one or met one, but the stories are enough.

Devils showing up on moonless nights, making bargains that always end poorly for the one who accepts.

Or worse, they lure folk in, preying on their desires.

If you fall for their trap, you vanish, and no one ever hears from you again.

” I scanned the forest, as if one might be listening.

But it was daylight. Devils were never seen in the sun.

“When I was younger,” I went on, “my mother told me about a boy who disappeared. A child. He was never found, but his little sister swears a devil took him.” I bent down and picked a smooth stone from the creek’s bedrock.

A sun-like symbol was faintly carved into its surface.

“After that, folk began casting praying stones in this creek, asking for protection. I haven’t heard of another child going missing since. ”

Caz appeared beside me, eyeing the stone in my hand.

“How curious,” he said, studying it. “I don’t often hear much about devils during my travels, but the folk in Brier Len seem more cautious than most. Maybe there’s truth to the belief that the veil between our world and the devil’s realm is thinner here, especially with how the trees are.

” He paused, drove a pin into the ground, and scribbled in his notebook.

“Folk here are certainly different from those in the cities.”

“Mm,” I murmured, distracted.

Something further down the creek had caught my attention.

Caz kept talking about the cultural divide between cityfolk and skirtsfolk, but his voice faded as a strange pull stirred in my chest. I tilted my head toward it, letting the feeling guide me.

My feet moved on their own, following the bend in the creek.

Caz’s voice floated after me, something about staying on course for mapping, but then, something moved across my line of sight .

A raven.

Then dozens more appeared all at once, settling in the branches of a nearby tree, scattered like dark flecks against deep green. Their caws pierced the stillness. I heard Caz again, faintly, “Ravens are strangely active in Brier Len… I wonder if…”

His voice faded as I fixed my sight on one raven in particular.

It was massive, nearly twice the size of the others, and its eyes were locked onto mine with a strange intensity.

A fog rolled over my thoughts as I tried to remember if I had ever seen it before.

Ravens had always been a part of my life.

My mother used to joke that I had a flock of my own. But this one felt different.

It flew ten paces ahead, and without thinking, I followed.

Something unseen tugged at my chest, pulling me forward.

The farther I went, the more the forest behind me dimmed, its sounds growing distant and muted, replaced by a soft, silvery glow.

It was beautiful. A deep, unearthly calm settled over everything.

I simply needed to follow the raven.

How much time passed, I couldn’t say. It might’ve been days, weeks, or even years. I moved in perfect step with the creature, letting it lead me wherever it wished.

The world was washed in shades of gray, and the air carried a thick, sickly-sweet scent. Eventually, the raven landed before an enormous tree.

My eyes widened.

It was unlike any tree I had ever seen, its roots twisted, its branches sprawling in every direction. The bark shimmered with streaks of charcoal and ash-gray, layered and cracked like ancient stone.

I took a step away, then froze.

Two eyes emerged from the shadows, burning bright yellow.

I stumbled backward, unable to look away. They were striking, like embers glowing in the dark.

A sudden, fierce recognition surged through me, and I gasped, but even that sound was swallowed by silence. I knew those eyes. I was sure of it. But where had I seen them?

I pushed at the memory, trying to call it forth, but the fog crept in again, like it had with the raven. My thoughts dulled. Confusion set in. Frustration coiled in my chest, until a sharp whinny broke through the stillness.

The world around me flickered, muted grays flashing into bold, jarring color. A sudden pain cracked through my head, and I winced, clutching my temples. Bellona’s cry came again, clearer this time, and my eyes snapped open.

The gnarled tree, the yellow eyes, the mist: gone.

Color bled back into the world, and slowly, the sounds of the forest returned, grounding me once more.

Almost instantly, I heard Caz shout, his voice sharp with panic. My vision snapped back into focus, and I scanned the woods. Another cry followed, more desperate this time. I shook my head, trying to clear the lingering haze, then broke into a sprint toward the sound.

I ran as fast as I could, Caz’s shouts and Bellona’s frantic whinnies echoing through the trees. How far had I wandered?

It didn’t matter.

Something was terribly wrong with Caz, and I needed to find him. Fast.