The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Fifteen

We were half an hour away from the village when the sun was hidden by dark, angry storm clouds, and thunder began to rumble in the distance. A cold breeze wafted past us. Lark stared up at the sky.

"We'd better stop," she said, looking at Reed. "I think it's going to rain soon. Can you make a shelter to keep us dry?"

He nodded, and got to work, scribbling wildly on his arm in an attempt to beat the incoming storm. Lark peeked over his shoulder and muttered ideas. When he was done, we had a good-sized wooden roof with a floor and a fireplace. It was Bran who voiced the obvious.

"What about walls?"

Reed shrugged, exhaustion obvious in the set of his shoulders. "I wanted to keep it as simple as possible."

"But what if it's windy?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Reed slowly lowered himself to the floor. "For now, I need to rest. I won't be much use to anyone without my powers."

"You should all rest," I said. "You've been up for more than a day. Any longer and you might start falling asleep on your feet."

"What about you?" Bran asked.

"I already rested."

"When?"

"When you knocked me out."

"Unconsciousness isn't quite the same thing as sleep," Lark pointed out.

"It's better than nothing."

Reed put his pack under his head and closed his eyes. "All right. I'm fine with that. But if you start falling asleep on watch, wake one of us up. Better to rotate every ten minutes and be annoyed about being woken up than to have a useless, sleeping watchperson, and get eaten by a bear."

"Why a bear?" Bran wondered.

Reed ignored him.

Lark said, "Because bears are dangerous."

"So are wolves."

Lark rolled her eyes, lay back with her head on her pack, and appeared to go to sleep.

Bran turned to me. "If I'm eaten by a bear, a wolf, or anything else while sleeping, I'm going to zap you again."

"Won't you already be dead? If you've been eaten?"

Bran glared at me and rolled over, turning his back to me. I heard him mutter, "You're all against me."

I tried to set up my pack so that I could sit with my back against it, but I failed dismally. There was nothing to prop it against. Too late, I wished I had asked Reed to draw some kind of chair. But he'd been very tired, so perhaps it had been better for me not to give him more things to do. Plus—a chair would be comfy, which would make me much more likely to fall asleep.

I blinked, realizing I'd gotten lost in my thoughts. Thus far, I was proving to be a rather terrible lookout. I stood, pulled my shoes off so I'd make less noise, and began to pace back and forth across the floor. At least this way, if I fell asleep, I'd notice.

Rain began to patter across the roof. I both loved and hated the noise, because it made the dry space we occupied feel safe and comfortable, and it made me want to curl up under a blanket and sleep. But I needed to pay attention.

I peered out into the gloom of the forest. The bushes were shaking slightly under the constant onslaught of water, but other than that, nothing moved. I turned on my heel and began to walk the other way again.

The temperature was still dropping, as it usually did during thunderstorms. It was refreshing. The air was cool and clear, and I realized suddenly how humid it had been for the last few days. Now, though, the humidity was dumping itself out of the air, piling up on the clouds above us. I let my senses flow out to my deathbirds, to see if any were high enough to observe the clouds from above. The ones that were near enough to be in the rain were roosting in trees, heads tucked under wings as raindrops bounced off them. I considered sending them to take a look, but a thunderclap reminded me how dangerous that would be for the birds.