Cloak, Torn: Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 30

Warren wrenched out his ax.

"Let her go," he growled. "I'm faster than you, and I won't hesitate to hack off your head."

My attacker chuckled.

"You might be able to get to me, but you're still outnumbered."

Both of us began searching the forest, and as we did, more emerged from the shadows, hooded, dressed in rag tag clothes, and drawing weapons. I counted six, maybe seven, and that didn't include any behind me.

"Put the ax down, kid."

Warren glared.

"How many behind me?"

"Eight," he said. "At least."

"Who'd have thought you'd need an army to rob a couple teenagers, geez."

I rolled my eyes, even though on the inside my heart was pounding a little too hard. The only good thing Jack had done was show me how to mask emotions.

I felt the knife press a little harder against my back and winced.

"Put it down, Warren," I said. "They'll figure out we've got nothing valuable and be on their way."

"Actually," said the voice behind me, "I like your cloak."

"If you take my cloak I will slit your throat and feed you to the Queen," I snarled.

"Ooo, feisty. I'm so scared."

Warren growled. The knife moved from my back to my cheek, its edge frigid against my skin.

"Watch it, lover boy, or I might slash up your girlfriend's face."

"We're not-,"

"Of course you are. Now shut up and put the ax down. Five seconds. Five, four..."

"Warren," I said, "put it down. It's okay."

"Three, two..."

I hissed as the point broke the skin and a trickle of blood ran over my cheek.

"Alright!" Warren said. He tossed the ax away. "You've made your point."

"Good boy."

The knife moved away from my cheek and I felt the dagger slide from my sheath.

"Pretty."

"Don't touch that," I snapped.

"You're not in a position to be making demands, missy. Got any other weapons?"

"Yeah, the spike I'm gonna stick your head on."

"Uh-huh. What about money? Oh, this looks nice."

The thief yanked the pouch off my belt and dumped it into one hand.

"Hey!"

"Renslandian marks. That's a lot of gold for someone with nothing."

"Look, that's all we've got, okay? What do you want, golden eggs?"

I don't know why I said it. It was stupid. But the thief stopped.

"Hang on," he said, cocking his head. "Hey, Shadow! This look like that little girl we gave a ride, oh, 'bout a month ago?"

I blinked.

"I dunno, Ace," one of the men said. "Prob'ly the same cloak. I don't remember the boy. Thought he was blonde. Pine, you recognize her at all?"

One of the robbers moved forward, pulling back his hood and squinting at me. I recognized the sharpness in his eyes. His face said mid-forties and there were crows feet around his eyes with grey streaking his brown hair and beard. And he was definitely Fabellian. I squinted. He was the cart driver. The one who drove the wagon full of thieves.