Cloak, Torn: Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 9

The crimson splash was what caught his attention, otherwise he might have simply passed the body on the river bank. He trotted over and nosed her cold, wet flesh. She was lying on her side, limp as a dead fish, blue lips parted just the barest amount. Her raven hair was in sleek, stringy ropes, stuck to her face and crusted in dirt and sand. Her water darkened cloak was tangled around her body so she looked like a corpse wrapped in bloody winding sheets. Bruises traveled up her pale legs.

The wolf pushed a paw to her chest and rolled her onto her back. He whined and pressed his snout to her neck to feel a fluttering pulse and only the barest rise and fall of breath in her windpipe. She wasn't dead, but wasn't much left of her. He shoved a black paw against her eyelids, but fumbled. He tried barking and howling next to her ear, but she didn't stir.

Nothing.

The Woodsman. Get the Woodsman. But he won't understand...

The wolf eyed her ripped cloak. It was red as a matador's cape and brighter than blood. A good attention-getter. He tore out a wet chunk of fabric after a couple good yanks.

He took a glance back at her and shook his head. Six years since they had first met and yet she had not changed. Still adventurous. Still stupid. Stupid to think she could outrun Jayla's pack. Stupid to run straight into a ravine. And stupid to seek him out.

He gave a shake of his head and slipped away into the foliage.

* * *

I felt the throbbing in every muscle. My body ached and resisted every twitch. Nothing worked right. When I tried to speak I heard only low creaking and when I tried to move I felt only fire. I struggled to open my eyes but all I saw was a hazy blur of earth colors. Out of it all there was a peculiar, slurring, rasp that sounded like words but I couldn't be sure.

Another few blinks brought things into a little sharper focus and the voice began to make more sense.

"Scarlet... Scarlet..."

I groaned in response and forced myself to shift, trying to ignore the ache in my muscles.

Come on, Scarlet. Get up.

I felt my eyelids start to slip and things begin to fall back into darkness, and I gave myself a mental slap.

Wake up you idiot! Wake up! Do you want to get eaten? Wolves! Thieves! GET UP!

I wrenched my eyelids open and shoved my body upward. A shock of forced energy and adrenaline surged in my bloodstream and I twisted around, trying to make sense of things. There were walls of logs around me, the spaces between them stopped up with hardened clay. The floor was dirt and above my there was a thatched roof. A shuttered window had been cut into the wood and a slightly lopsided hearth against one wall held a small fire. There was a pot hanging over it and the mouthwatering smell of broth made my stomach growl.

"Wha-," I began, but then I noticed the startled man next to me. He was tall with broad shoulders, calloused hands and muscular arms. His hair beginning to come in silver as well as raven but his bronze eyes hadn't changed. My heart calmed itself a little. I knew exactly where I was.

"Woodsman! You gave me a scare," I said. Of course, his name was actually Clef Woods. Everyone just called him the Woodsman because he lived in the forest and split logs for a living. Plus, it fit perfectly with his last name. There was only half a grin on his face.

"I was starting to worry you wouldn't wake, Scarlet."

I waved him off with a hand but then stopped at the burning ache that echoed through it.