Anama rolled her eyes, the gray streaks in her tawny hair shining gunmetal in the moonlight. I only realized then that dusk had turned to nightfall. Leaves rustled overhead, and an occasional bird squawked. I did not allow myself to ponder what else might be lurking in the branches above.
“What about you, Lana? What would you give my mother’s secret stew recipe up for?” I asked in a feeble attempt to distract myself from the gnawing fear.
Lana, gods bless her, played along. “I don’t want to say.”
Even Moric turned to look at her.
“What?” She blushed crimson. “If I’m being truthful, it’s not nearly as dutiful as wanting to see my family, or as wholesome as enjoying a hot meal in my favorite place.”
“Come on, Lana Banana,” Moric teased. “We all went. It’s your turn.”
“Gods, these nicknames get progressively worse each day,” she muttered. “But fine, since we’re all out here and might die at any second if a panthera comes shooting out the trees… I’d give up the recipe for one night of casual, no strings attached sex with Septimus.”
I choked on my spit.
Anama’s eyes bulged in their sockets.
A slow, cocky grin stretched along Moric’s face. “I.Knew. It.”
Lana gave him the middle finger.
“You know you’ve just signed yourself up for endless teasing,” I told her. “He’snevergoing to let this one go.”
Lana stuck her tongue out at Moric, who was still smirking gleefully. “Wanting something and actuallyhavingit are two completely different things. Septimus is elven. We hate them.”
I pressed my lips together in a thin line as thoughts of Kilian – naked, save for a towel – flitted across my mind like a butterfly.He was elven too. We did hate them. We most certainly did not daydream of towels slipping and cuirasses coming undone. And we definitely did not wonder what those full lips tasted like.
“I hear hate-sex does wonders for the skin,” Moric chirped, sounding infinitely more alert than he had a few minutes ago. His mind was most likely whirring with an endless stream of taunts.
The look Lana gave him was pure daggers. She opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut.
“What?” Moric chortled. “Septimus got your tongue?”
“Shh.” Lana pressed a finger to her lips. “Can you hear that?”
“All I hear is the sound of your panties dropping for a certain golden-eyed elven,” Moric sang.
“I’m being serious. Shut up and listen.”
We all stilled, coming to a stop. I glanced around, then murmured, “Is it me or are the trees thinning?”
“I think we’re coming to a clearing.” Anama squinted through the darkness. “I can see something up ahead.”
“Maybe it’s the caves.” Relief washed over me. We would have a place to rest for the night, somewhere moderately safe to sit and take our shoes off. My toes were scrunched painfully in my boots.
We walked with renewed vigor, only the moonlight glinting off the trees and the promise of a clearing up ahead guiding us. And as we grew closer to the glade, trees branching off to scatter in distant clumps, I heard what Lana had:
The rhythmic gurgling of water flowing over rock, splashing and bubbling as it wended downstream.
There were no caves. Only a grassy bank that gave way to a wide, curving river.
Anama fell to the ground beside me, her knees hitting the grass with a thud.
We had trekked west, but found the river. We had gone the wrong way. The caves were to the east. My stomach sank to my feet, disappointment stinging my chest.
Lana’s hand was half-raised to her mouth, her gaze locked on the river. And Moric, compass hanging limply from his hand, was speechless.
Anama pulled out the map, scanning it in the silvery moonlight. “This can’t be. I don’t understand. The sun rises in the west.”