Nightfall couldn't come soon enough and still came too soon. Nestled in the pitch shelter of a watchtower, Raya watched her short breaths curl into wisps of white fog as the city's temperature plunged, sure she'd left her real body behind in her warm, safe bedroom. No part of her could keep up with being here. Her mind raced so fast it blurred, leaving her blank.
Darkness muddied the colour of the sands, smearing the desert in slants of umber. With no wind to breathe life into them, they sat still, and that only accentuated the gaping emptiness that lay beyond the border. She stared long and hard, but there was nothing—nothing but a sharp horizon and a watching, waiting cascade of stars.
It lacked a pulse. Lying so motionless, the vast expanse reminded her of a corpse.
The thought rolled in a swathe of unwelcome memories: lifeless, inhuman eyes staring glassily from death-ridden husks, full of blame; the crackle of flames as they ate through mottled fur; skeletal beasts bleeding in the dust, broken limbs askew, decaying in a pool of silence. A shiver rattled her bones, clawing at her lungs. Corpses had a tendency to haunt her.
Scuffling motion sprang up in the corner of her eye, and a jolt of alarm went through her like lightning through a metal pole, fierce enough she nearly tripped. A scream tore up her throat. Desperately, she clamped both hands over her mouth, muffling it to a squeak, but her heart's pound was loud enough to drown it out regardless.
She felt silly immediately. Having slipped into the same shadow she hid in, Corvin blinked at her, going still. He scanned the area around them—empty as everywhere else, barren like any other night—and shot her a puzzled look.
She prised her hands away and forced them to her sides, fingers curling in a vain attempt to cage her thrashing heart. "Sorry," she breathed. "Did you see anyone up on the watchtower?"
He nodded. Within the first one or two minutes of slipping out of the house alongside him, she'd noticed the ease with which he moved amid the dark, and it hadn't been hard to figure out from there that he must possess unusually enhanced senses. Where she could only make out vague shapes outlined by the stars, swaddled in blinding shades of black and grey, he showed little sign of reduced vision at all. Where nighttime was set to ambush her at every corner, it looked natural on him. Moonlight sheened his hair and bounced white off his antlers, granting him an ethereal glow only furthered by the intensity of his gaze.
In gesture, he lifted a singular pale, slender finger. "One human."
Raya's breath snagged. She'd been counting on a relaxed security patrol; watchmen were usually sparse after twilight, deemed excessive when beast attacks barely ever fell during the night, and this was the quietest segment of the border she could think of. Her chest ached, ready to crack open.
The quirk of Corvin's smile dried up the anxious words on her tongue, however. "Calm." His whisper was firm and surprisingly effective. When his grin widened, his teeth flashed. "He is sleeping."
Raya couldn't make herself fully soak in the words. "You're sure?"
Lifting his arms, he folded them in mid-air and slumped his head into the crook of his elbow, eyes shutting as he mimed an open-mouthed snore. When he jumped out of the pose, his eyes glittered even brighter.
Lingering panic smothered the majority of her amusement, but a flicker of a smile toyed with her lips. Her thudding heart and unsteady legs begged her to tell him no, to back out now while she still could, but instead she reached for the edge of her cloak's hood. With it tugged low over her face, all but the twin, trailing strands of her inky hair were tucked out of sight, and muted blue washed over her peripheral vision, hiding everything except Corvin's eager face.
YOU ARE READING
Against the Wind
FantasyIn Tehazihbith, imperfection is a myth. Blessed with divine power, the city's miracle rivers overflow with dust, a glittering, colourful cascade, and its people weave life-giving magic. Imperfection belongs to the beasts and the beastfolk: strange...