Against the Wind

9.3 || Raya

Dust fled Raya's fist, scattering without a goal or incantation, as the beast's weight came upon her. The sky tilted, swallowing her view and then vanishing to make way for a huge, hairy jaw. Sand sank and grew hard beneath her. A shockwave of pain lanced her spine, swift as the uncatchable exhale that fled her, leaving her lungs flat and empty. The beast's foot wasn't quite large and thick enough to crush her entirely, but it certainly felt like it; she fought to breathe, swatting at the air but fingers brushing little more than a coarse mess of fur.

The pouch around her neck pressed into her throat, suddenly unbearably heavy. Her fingers were numb as she felt for its clasp, devoid of the feeling they needed, unable to sense the dust's tingle. Fear was choking. Her vision grew dark at the edges, faded like crinkled paper, until she could only twist her face and wait for unseen teeth to tear into her.

Instead, she heard a voice, and then the weight released. Her knees curled in as she limply pushed herself back, gulping in air. With a hand clasped to her burning chest, she lifted her head, squinting through a haze of cloudy, blinking dots.

Corvin stood over her. Back pointed her way, he shoved at the beast's broad snout, antlers gilded in moonlight and tilted forwards in defence. Words she didn't recognise rolled over his tongue, clacking syllables so harsh and detached from one another that keeping track of them made her head spin.

She detected a mote of calm in his tone, however, deepening with every moment that passed. It leaked into the beast. The shuffling of its feet slowed, then stopped altogether, movements draining away to make room for stillness. The growl rumbling in its throat faded to a soft hum. Corvin's fingers settled to lie flat on its snout, and it bent its head underneath the gesture with strange grace that mirrored obedience. Its eyes slid closed, and when they opened again, they were wide and black, the previous slitted fire that had reared within them all but gone. The way it gazed upon Corvin was gentle, content.

It matched nothing Raya had ever known of the beasts; lacking a violent urge, the creature no longer seemed real. She forced herself to sit up, though she couldn't stop the quiver in her arms or her voice. "How are you doing that to it?"

"I am telling her the same thing I will tell you." Without moving, Corvin turned his head towards her, the barest smile overshadowed by the stern look in his eyes. "She is a friend."

He kept watching her, poise still as stone, warily patient, like he was testing her reaction. It took her a long moment to process it herself. She realised she still held her dust pouch, and let go of it in a hurry, granting him a nod.

Trust me, that look said—part command, part plea—and she did. Fear stayed sour in her throat and floundered within her bruised ribs, but she had to trust him.

When the seconds ticked on, broken only by Corvin's rough murmurs and the warm, steady rise and fall of the beast's breathing, she gathered her strength and rose. Courage was harder to come by, however. Her feet stayed where they were, fastened to the dune.

Another of his hard glances found her. With his free hand, he beckoned her forward. She rubbed at her shoulder, feeling for the hood that had fallen from her head. The back of her neck had gone cold.

His fingers flicked again, his gaze softening. "Raya," he whispered, still so careful with her name. "Come."

Nerves pushed a dry, breathless laugh from her lips. The hood bunched into her palm. "I doubt it would like me near."

"She is called Meag," he said, thumb rubbing slow circles over the beast's snout, "and if you do not threaten her, she will not hurt you."

Her gut writhed. "She might see me as a threat regardless."