Hart and Hunter

Chapter 29

Ch. 29: Julian

"Keep moving."

Darragh shoves me between the shoulder blades. I'd stopped to listen when the sound of a distant bark tickled the edges of my hearing. It could have been Dane, or it could have been my imagination.

We've been walking for what feels like an hour, though I'm fairly certain it's only been fifteen minutes or so. We walk in single file: me in the lead, followed by Darragh, Halloran carrying Ingrid in Wolf form, and the two Fae women bringing up the rear with readied bows.

When I fail to obey Darragh's order immediately, he shoves me again. "I said, move."

I stumble and glare at him over my shoulder. If there's a chance Dane is nearby, I need to buy him some time to find us—if he can get through the Fae illusions, that is. Fortunately, while I may not be the best in a fight, or at making quick-yet-rational decisions on the fly, I'm a pro when it comes to being difficult.

I turn to face Darragh. "What if I refuse to go any further? You can't kill me if king What's-His-Name wants me alive."

Darragh's pretty face stretches in a sneer. "No. But I can hurt you. Or I could kill the Wolf girl, or my dear brother Rian, even. Perhaps we'll make it look like a Wolf attack. That will bode well for your would-be Alpha, won't it?" He gestures to Alyth and Sylv, and the two Fae women raise their bows, aiming them at Ingrid and Halloran. "You decide: keep walking, or someone dies."

I grit my teeth. Something about Darragh tells me he's not bluffing; even if he is, I won't gamble with other people's lives. "Fine. You win."

"Good. Now, move."

Flashing what I hope is a venomous glare and not just squinty eyes, I do as he says, though I walk as slow as I can without earning myself another shove.

Meanwhile, my mind races at full speed. Does Dane know something's wrong yet? How could three Wolves have failed to detect the presence of the Fae? What else does Halloran know that he hasn't told me, and how does Rhiannon play into it all? Most importantly, what does this King Oberon guy want with me—or, more specifically, with a leanan sidhe?

Another sound distracts me from my thoughts: not a bark, this time, but a soft, melodic trill, like the call of some exotic bird. It seems to come from somewhere deep within the trees, and the Fae pay it no heed.

We continue in silence for a few paces before I hear the strange call again.

"Darragh!" one of the Fae women calls in a whisper, and I turn to see that Halloran has stopped in his tracks, Ingrid still cradled in his arms.

Darragh sighs. "What about 'keep moving' do the pair of you not understand?"

"Forgive me, brother," Halloran says slowly, though he glances past Darragh and locks eyes with me. "The call of the dream herald reminded me of home. I've never heard one here before."

Darragh frowns. "If you'd stop dawdling, we'd be home soon enough. The forests of Faerie are full of them. One must have followed us through."

"Ah, yes. That must be it," Halloran agrees, though there's a strange edge to his tone. "It probably wants to go home."

The intensity of his expression makes me think he's telling me something, but I don't understand. I shake my head at him slightly to say as much.

"Although," he continues, still looking at me. "If I wanted to go home, I'd simply... follow the moon."

Without warning, he turns and shoves Ingrid's limp body into the arms of the two Fae women, knocking them down in a heap. Snatching a short blade from one, he launches himself at Darragh, who barely raises his sword in time to block and staggers beneath the force of the blow.