The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 35

"Cloak," I say to gather his attention. He glances over his shoulder at me. "This way?" I jerk my chin towards the direction my body wishes me to go in.

He looks from me to the remainder of his corps. Gav and Keaya hold their breath, waiting. "Be careful," he demands. They nod in unison, and he steers his mare to follow me until we're side by side.

I hear the slide of metal against leather. It's only Cloak pulling a dagger from his boot to clutch in his hand. He notices my awareness.

"For emergencies."

I take a deep breath through the nose, exhaling out stale air. "I don't blame you for being cautious, the wastes are nothing to trifle with." My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, shrouded in that dry, ashen taste that tugs me towards what waits beyond the Panjandrum beacon. I pry it away, trying to gather the saliva in my mouth, but come up short.

"If only everyone else behaved with the same caution. Rootbeaks are stronger than all of us, and they don't need weapons to beat their opponent. Brute force is enough." He straightens his spine on the saddle, glancing nervously left to right.

I've never seen him frightened before. He would never admit that is the truth, he's behaving how he wishes others to, but there's no mistaking the look in his eye. The tight, cautious nature of his posture and the white-knuckle grip he keeps on the dagger's handle. Though, if what he's saying is true, a dagger won't stand against a rootbeak.

His eyebrows push close together, examining. Even immortal eyes won't see clearly through the endless curtain.

"You don't have to wear the cloak, you know," I remind him. Instead of a clear response, he stares at me quizzingly. I point at the hood. "The cloak. You don't have to hide yourself when it's only the two of us."

Realization snaps sharply across his features, hardening them to the core. "I wear what I must. If anyone is out here, and I highly doubt there is, they won't mistake who brought down the rootbeak threatening to kill them. They'll know it was me."

Still following that invisible trail, I nod. He has absolutely no idea I tend to lead him towards what anomaly cuts through the solid foundation of the wastes. Something is out of place, yet when my power comes close to reaching the truth of its identity, the discovery snakes away into the fog and demands to play.

The whispers trapped within the fog moving around us sweep away reassuring voices at our backs, a signal of life from the Panjandrum Corps. I cannot see the beacon anymore, and Keaya's orders to the rest of their forces go unnoticed to my ears. A small tether connects to them, tugging me back towards safety, but I fear my body refuses to ignore the stronger presence in the other direction.

"You wear it voluntarily?" I ask. "Is it a shield of sorts?"

"A shield?" Cloak arches a brow. "No, it's a cloak, Marie. This isn't a shield."

My mouth turns down in a frown. "That isn't what I meant. I mean—"

Cloak squints, leaning forward on the saddle. I follow his line of sight to a tall, bare tree. The branches stick out in odd directions, reaching towards the sky in search of sunlight, only to fail and wither before the chance of warmth arrives. Broken twigs litter the cracked ground beneath it, but that's not what Cloak looks at. It's the heap at the bottom, hunched against the large, cracked trunk.

Warmth spreads through the middle of my chest, the rope dissolving. We found what we came here for. The Luminary within jumps out of control, swirling around the mound. I snap a chain on the excited power in close danger of revealing itself and clench tight onto the horn of the saddle, forcing the power to die against newfound force.