“Let ’em be, Skeeve.” She sucked the flesh from between the rabbit’s ribs. “Come here!”
Reluctantly, he did. He walked up the steps with his tail between his legs.
She tossed him the rabbit carcass.
Instantly, he crunched it down into digestible chunks. He didn’t even take the time to lay down as he usually did when she passed him something to chew.
Lynn smiled. It was so good to have him here. The threat of losing him had gotten her in trouble, but here they were, together.
Skeever audibly crushed the rabbit’s skull.
Lynn shivered at the sound, imagining another skull being crushed.
“Dani chose her own fate.” Saying it out loud did not make her believe it, but it did make her feel less alone. She pulled the hare from the spit and tested the meat. “Eat and sleep, Tanner. Eat and sleep. Look behind you only to make sure there is nothing there that might kill you.”
Even with that reminder, the delicious, fatty hare went down like gravel and turned sour in her gut. When she lay down to sleep, she pressed the flat of her knife against her chest and remembered how badly that had almost gone for Dani. Lynn had slept like this for years, though, and didn’t move around as Dani did.
When Skeever joined her, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly to settle herself. She nodded off quickly, but not before wondering if Dani had found a good place to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
LYNN AWOKE WITH A START. What was that? She peered into the darkness. When she didn’t instantly see danger approaching, she cast a quick glance at the fire. Its steady flames told her she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a minute or two.
Skeever’s head was up and tilted to one side. He had heard something too. A growl started low in his throat.
Lynn laid her hand on the nape of his neck.
He quieted.
She exchanged her knife for her tomahawk and stood.
Nothing moved in the circle of light, nor in the shadows just beyond. She could see the fence; it was intact and closed. The edges of the roof were clear as well. “Go check.”
Skeever made his way down the steps. He sniffed the rubble with his tail between his legs.
Lynn followed him down. Once she put the fire at her back, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the blackness beyond the gate became a little less absolute.
Wind caressed the trees and set the shrubbery atremble. Something scurried along the debris-strewn road—a rat? A raccoon? One of the seemingly thousands of cats in the area?—and disappeared. The dogs were nowhere in sight.
She pressed herself against the gate and peered out into the shadow world beyond. What’s out there?
Skeever leaned against her leg. He kept his head low as he stared out.
Seconds ticked by. An owl hooted. Bats danced overhead in an intricate choreographed piece that nearly cost them their lives as they zipped past brick and wood. Whatever presence had woken her up had dissolved back into the night.
As she expelled her breath in a huff, Lynn tried to release the tension in her body with it. She had only marginal success; tension was inevitable at night. She reached down and stroked Skeever’s back, smoothing down fur. “Come on, Skeeve. Back to bed.”
It was a well-practiced, age-old tradition to wake up several times during the night. The routine of investigation and fruitless search was grating, but inevitable. Sleep deprivation was the price of staying alive in the Wilds.
She sat back down on the blankets. The small fire had dimmed considerably in the minutes she’d left it unattended, so she was forced to build it back up before she could lie down again.
Skeever sank down by her side. He stretched his paws out and laid his head on them.
Lynn scratched behind his ear. She stared out at the fence again. It was a night filled with activity just beyond what her senses could perceive. Leaves rustled, monkeys howled in the distance, and unseen creatures ambling through the undergrowth made much more noise than could reasonably be expected from something so small. Even the swooshing dives of the bats, the greedily burning fire, and Skeever’s whimpered exhales fractured whatever odds of silence there could possibly be. For all its birds, zebras, and elephants, the world during daytime often felt hollow and lifeless. Never the night.
Lynn added another branch to the fire. She envisioned the map she’d given Dani and wondered how far toward the 95 Dani could have gotten yesterday. It depended on the vegetation, of course. If the road had restored itself for her like it had done for Lynn, she would have covered a lot more ground than if it hadn’t. But Dani wasn’t used to long hikes. Her blisters would have affected her speed and duration of travel. Would she have risked not finding a place to rest before nightfall? Lynn didn’t think so.
Lynn had put in… what? Half a day’s travel after their split around noon? Dani would more than likely have put in less. She would have left herself plenty of time to make fortifications, a fire, and some food. They were probably a day’s hike apart.
Not that it matters.
She tossed her stick into the fire and watched it burn. Then she lay down against Skeever’s flank. As part of the routine, she placed her tomahawk within easy reach, took her knife, and flattened it to her chest again.
Time for another few minutes of nodding off.
The pattern held until daybreak. Lynn went through rapid cycles of wakefulness and rest until the sky had gone from black to gray. She’d let the fire go out as soon as natural light returned to the world. Not having to tend a fire meant she could roll over and go back to sleep much quicker. Every extra minute of sleep was welcome, after all.
That was the theory.
In reality, Lynn lay awake until dawn. She stared up at the lightening sky while she massaged her belly. An apple-sized ball was stuck in her gut, but she couldn’t feel it with her hand. She blamed it on her food, but she knew it wasn’t.
It was Dani. The ball consisted of conglomerated worry and guilt, and it refused to shift. She sat up in the idle hope of dislodging it.
Skeever lifted his head, sighed, and laid it back down. He hadn’t gotten much sleep either last night, thanks to critters and probably Lynn’s restlessness.
“Sorry, Skeever.” She scratched him behind one ear until he smacked his lips. Now what? It was a bit too early to leave, but she could get herself ready to go as soon as the world lightened a bit more. She pulled her pack to her and retrieved salty goat cheese and the second of the—now badly bruised—apples Dani had given her.
Dani again.
Lynn felt the urge to toss the apple away as hard as she could. They were a day’s travel away from each other, and here Lynn was, thinking only of Dani. She bit into the apple instead. No way would she let Dani cost her food as well as sleep.
Skeever rolled over onto his side and stretched lazily, giving her clear access to his belly.
She rubbed it absentmindedly. All of this thinking wasn’t doing her any favors. She had to get moving. Usually, she would let the sun come up a little more, but she couldn’t sit here any longer. “Come on, boy. Early day today.”
Something in her words or her tone seemed to convey the message. He stood and stretched.