Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"It's for anyone that needs it," she corrects. Her expression turns a bit more friendly, more understanding. "As long as you leave it as supplied as you found it, you're welcome to anything in any of the hunter caves. I'm sure the others would agree with me. If you're not ready to meet anyone, just say so."
I'm overwhelmed with gratitude at her kindness. She's not trying to push me into anything. She's just stuck between a few moving pieces. "I'd love it if you guys came back—I'm sure both of us would. Company is always welcome."
And I mean it. The more I play with the idea in my head, the more I like the idea of talking to more people, talking to others in the same situation. Hearing what they've done to survive. I want to know all the details.
April nods and shoots one last look at Valmir before tossing her wraps over her shoulders and adjusting them. As she does, she glances out the entrance of the cave, pausing. "Looks like I might not have to go far after all. Someone's coming."
I jump to my feet, and it takes everything I have not to shove April aside. I squeeze in next to her instead, staring hopefully out into the snows. The day is overcast and a gentle snow is falling, which means everything is gray and gloomy and visibility isn't fantastic. There's a large humanoid figure on the horizon, though, moving steadily towards our location. They're too far away to make out who it is…
My khui begins its song, gentle and welcoming.
With a happy cry, I burst from the cave and rush out to greet my mate.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
CORVAK
The sight of Aidy, alive and well, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The exhaustion I feel in my bones eases for just a moment, and I stagger toward her. When she flings herself into my arms, wrapping herself around me, I feel content for the first time in days. Her scent is warm and welcoming, with just a hint of the herbs she'd rubbed herself with before she'd left my side. I hold her close, just enjoying the moment.
This is what I have been fighting for. This makes everything worth it.
"Where have you been?" she asks, laughing. There's an edge of tears in her voice, though, as if she's trying to hide her anxiety. "You took your time."
"I wanted to make sure none followed me," I say.
The truth seems like so much more. Do I tell her about the last few days and how terrible they have been? How I led hundreds of the snow-people up into the mountains with me, to the cliff I had picked out that loomed over our swimming hole? Do I tell her about the cries of sadness they made when I gestured to them that I was leaving? That the time had come for me to ascend back to the heavens? How the closest ones had clung to the "ceremonial cloak" I was wearing and made the "no" gesture over and over again?
I felt like a monster, a terrible father betraying his children.
I cup Aidy's face in my hands, tired and shaking with fatigue, and study her features. She looks good, my mate. There are tired rings under her eyes, but the ever-present scratches and burns that have covered her arms and hands from her endless cooking are gone. She no longer looks thin and worn, like a hide stretched too tight over a frame. She glows as she smiles up at me.
I decide I'm not going to tell her any of it.
Not of my fear as I'd lifted the heavy weight of my cloak, extending it with the long bones we'd worked into it so it would act like a curtain. I'd stood on the edge of the cliff and stared at the pool of water far below, terrified. Lightning had cracked overhead in that moment, the storm finally marking its arrival, and I knew I could wait no longer. I'd swallowed my fear and stepped into the pool.
It was a move we'd practiced on the edge of the pool inside the cave—holding out the cloak overhead and then dropping it at the perfect moment so it would seem as if I was disappearing into thin air. A magic trick, Aidy called it. Like sleight of hand, only bigger. I stepped off the ledge and let the cloak fall as we'd trained. The screams of the snow-people and terrified hoots that followed as I'd plummet through the air told me that I'd been successful in that much, at least.
Then, the water had slammed into me, and I went under the surface. I'd gone under for so long and so deep that it seemed I would never make it back to the surface.
How do I tell Aidy the terror I felt in that moment? That I'd feared I would never make it back to her side? That I would die in the pool and no one would ever know what happened to me? That she would have our child alone because I'd abandoned her?