Page 9 of The Serpent and the Silver Wolf

“I still need to breathe!” He squirmed weakly beneath her knot.

She stepped back and looked him over, jaw tense. It was going to be a long freaking journey if he kept this up.

Aimee smiled.

“What are you thinking?” Kazuma’s brow furrowed. “Whatever it is, I don’t like the look of it.”

She nodded to herself, tugging the last strip of torn fabric free. And without a word, she bent low and shoved it into his mouth.

Kazuma growled behind the gag, trying to twist away, but his body had no strength left.

“Better.” She straightened, brushing off her hands.

He glared up at her, mumbling furiously around the wad of cloth, then sulking like a child forced to eat something foul.

“Now.” She jerked her chin toward him. “Look in the direction we need to go.”

Another glare.

“It’s fine. I can wait.” She glanced around for a halfway comfortable patch of moss to stretch out on. “I’m not the one with internal bleeding.”

Kazuma rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, then exhaled through his nose with enough force to blow his hair off his face.

Then, he looked left.

“That way?” She pointed. “Blink once for yes. Twice for no.”

His eyes closed and opened once.

“Okay then.” She stood, circled behind him, and grabbed hold of the stretcher’s handles.

The frame lurched in her grip, mass swaying awkwardly through dirt and leaf rot. Her shoulders tensed against the strain as she picked her path through the underbrush, and the smothered ranting finally quieted once she got him moving.

“Much better.”

She continued dragging the stretcher as it bumped and skidded over roots and loose stone. And when it caught on a half-buried rock, jolting the frame in her hands, Kazuma’s stifled yelp barely broke through the fabric.

“So much better.”

Picking up her pace, she ignored the sting in her palms and the ache in her legs.

She’d dump him at whatever passed for a healer in this god-forsaken village. Then someone else could deal with him.

Chapter three

“Wemustbeclose,”Kazuma’s voice sounded behind her—dry, unhurried, and far too calm for someone being towed across a mountain.

Aimee started at the sound, looking down at the rocky path she’d been staring at for what felt like days. Shale crunched beneath her boots as she finally looked up, blinking against the muted gray light. The slope had been unrelenting for the last two hours, too steep to run, too narrow to fall out of step, and it had demanded every ounce of her attention.

“He speaks.” She looked over her shoulder. “Finally got the gag out, then?”

All she could see of Kazuma was the messy black topknot of his hair, bouncing with each tug of the makeshiftsled.

Turning her face forward again, she slowed her steps. The dense, damp hush of the forest had been replaced by a cooler draft and the distant, rhythmic roar of water smashing against stone.

“Did you really think that wad of fabric had lasted this long?” His voice was clearer now, amused.

“No.” She adjusted the grip on the handholds. “I imagine it chose freedom the moment your annoying mouth stopped moving.”