Page 14 of WitchBorn

“Is that his name?”

“No idea. He doesn’t talk.”

“Shouldn’t a fae cat talk?” Finn asked, not me, but the cat.

It glanced at him as if he was bothering it.

“You look more like one of those snow leopards than a kitty,” Finn said as he lay down on his makeshift bed. “Do you want some bean salad?”

The cat didn’t move. I hadn’t seen it eat.

“I could probably try to hunt a squirrel or something tomorrow,” Finn muttered. “Had a pocket knife and that’s gone with my clothes. At least I left the lighter on the counter.” It sat beside the wood stove.

“Anything you try to hunt in this world will eat you,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Scary.” He sounded tired, but not all that frightened. “I’ll call him, Snow.”

“It’s a little rude to assume someone’s name,” I said, turning my back to him and pulling up the blankets to burrow beneath and pray for warmth.

“Still don’t know yours,” Finn pointed out. “Only fair that you share it since you had your tongue in my mouth.”

Silence stretched between us. Names had power, and mine was ordinary. Finally, I said, “My name is Wesley.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. I closed my eyes, the light in the corner dimmed. “Nice to meet you, Wesley.”

I grunted at him. Faintly I heard, “Can you keep him warm, Snow?”

Was he talking to the cat? A few seconds later, the leopard leapt up onto the bed and slid itself into the narrow space at my back, warmth projecting from it and instantly sucking the lingering chill out of me. I sighed in relief, exhaustion hitting hard. Sleep sucked me down to dreams of pastries, warm fruity tea, and big dicks.

Twelve

WESLEY

The shriveling forest and oil slick ooze surrounded me. My heart pounded in terror. Death and destruction creeping in with a rising chill that made my breath mist and skin prickle with the pain of a thousand needles.

It had all been a dream, hadn’t it? Escaping the Winter realm and finding a forest with cool nights and warm days, all a fantasy. My soul ached. I didn’t want to run anymore. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I dropped to my knees, sinking to the ground to let the dark come. The end would be better than this nightmare continuing.

Decades of hiding myself, keeping close to power, no matter the consequences, hadn’t ended the nightmare. The Summer King taught me running wouldn’t work, and now I knew nothing would. My fate inescapable.

The slime inched forward, a gurgle of noise sounding like a stomach digesting bad burritos. Cold burned my skin. I covered my head, curling up into a ball like a child protecting itself from the boogeyman simply wanting it all to end, and too tired to fight anymore.

Someone cursed and it wasn’t me. Arms wrapped around me, picking me up, and for a half second I thought to struggle,fearing the world’s ooze developed human features. But warmth projected through me where we touched, and heat draped itself over me, as though protecting me from the cold. The grip firm, but gentle, held me up and ran, as if we could outpace the slime through distance alone.

I blinked open my eyes, thinking I’d wake back in the ice palace, but found myself locked in the forest of ooze with Finn using his body to protect me. His back to the slime, he ran, but got nowhere, the dark curse too fast. He sucked in a deep, pained breath as it touched him, but kept himself between the ooze and me.

It couldn’t be real. How was he in my dream?

“Finn?” I gasped out his name, horrified at the bubbling slime that crawled up his back as if to swallow him whole, while he kept himself between the nightmare and me. I flailed. The dream burst and the lamp in the corner lit up as I jolted up in bed, shivering with cold and terror, fearing Finn would be gone, eaten by the world.

He sat up on his makeshift mat, blinking wide eyes and staring at me. His heartbeat as rapid as mine.

“Sorry,” I said, my hand pressed to my chest as though I could will my fear away, thinking my nightmare had woken him. “Bad dream.”

“What was that?” Finn asked. “The world devoured by an oil slick?”