Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 85 - Branka - Barrier Breaker

Eleven days.

Eleven days we've been walking up and down, up and down, sleeping in the fucking cold either in clothes that don't hold in heat or no clothes at all. Don't even get me started on the latter.

Neither of us was particularly excited about the first day it snowed and soaked our clothes in the bitter frost. It pelted our faces as we walked up the first mountain top, a rope connecting us to the waist so we didn't lose each other in the storm. We found the smallest indent in the mountainside and huddled there for the night. It was either that or keep walking in hopes that a better shelter was up ahead, and neither of us wanted to take the gamble with the snow only getting stronger.

Even with the wood I summoned and the quick work of two rocks' friction didn't bring us solace. The wind easily sucked the heat away, resulting in us begrudgingly sharing a bedroll and what was left of each other's body heat. I will admit that I didn't mind snuggling up to his large form, but he seemed to have something against me. Not that he had much of a choice. I was pissed as is having to deal with yet another God's humor, and I certainly not turning into an icicle while I was asleep or get no sleep at all because my body was too busy shivering like some frightened pup.

I really, really fucking hate the cold.

For eleven days I've bugged his large ass. Pelting him with questions after questions about the forest, the land, the shoreline, where we're heading...pretty much anything that I could possibly think of. He tried staying silent for two days, but that's about as long as he lasted before threatening to cut the rope and leave me behind.

We've had to share a bed six more times since then, and I haven't missed the fact that his arm always ends up around me come morning. I pretend to be asleep when he wakes, liking how he so quickly removes himself from me as if I were a lion about to chop off his head. But at least I've gotten something out of it. Well, two somethings. Warmth, and information.

He finally gave in a cycle ago when we hit our third mountain top, answering my questions after I, myself, took a vow of silence for three days. I didn't ask questions after the previous five days of nonstop self conversing. I'm pretty sure he hated the silence more than I did, and that's saying a lot.

He hasn't revealed anything of his personal life as I have, mentioning all but my demon father or how it all went to shit. I know nothing of his family or how he ended up here. The only things I've gleamed are of The Blight and the people I was immensely relieved did not consist of the Roamers or Fiend.

As I suspected, The Blight is a prison, of a sort, which had me running him ragged for hours on end about why he was here. He went back to his silence for the rest of the day, and I gave up on it, knowing it'd be one of the first things I'd demand the details of from the Rulers. I don't trust him, but I trust him more than I do the Roamers or Fiend. One of which he stated doesn't bother him for more reasons unknown, and the other which doesn't venture this far into the forest. The Roamers want so badly to escape that they stick to the barrier's border, leaving the Fiend to have the rest.

His cabin is at the center of the forest, twelve miles from the base of the mountain range I'm assuming acts as a second barrier between us and what lies on the other side. The mountains wouldn't be such a bitch to cross otherwise.

Despite their magical barrier of death, the Northerners are apparently advanced and have taken steps in preparation for someone finally breaking through the forest to find them. It's how he knows the common tongue so well. How they got a hold of the language in itself is a question even he didn't know the answer to, but according to their teachings and writings, they've studied it for generations. Everyone is required to learn it from a young age for nothing more than the slimmest possibility that someone survived The Blight.