A Court of Ash and Fire

Chapter Eight

Aelin hungrily eyed the small rabbit in the clearing, snacking on a nut. Drawing the blade she had stolen from Cassian during their fight, Aelin took aim and flung it. It speared straight through it's left eyes. She didn't dare use magic out in this open forest to hunt; there was too much of a chance that someone would scent it. She had passed three groups of people already, and large men with wings had flown overhead multiple times. But she still eluded them.

After skinning and cleaning her kill, she speared the meat onto a stick and went about making a fire. She was sure to put a large leaf over it to conceal any smoke.

She nibbled on the juicy meat as she studied her surroundings. The trees were tall and dense; perfect for hiding in. The undergrowth was pale, and fallen logs scattered over the soft grass. She had descended the mountain a few hours ago. It hadn't taken long, and it had been a fairly easy trek.

Finished with her meal, she stomped out the fire with the heel of her boot and cleaned away any remains of her being there. She had still yet to come across a body of water, and she was parched.

Her hair clung to the back of her neck, sweat dripping down her throat. It had been a long while since she had been in her human body; she had forgotten it's limits. She grabbed a spare vine and secured her long hair into a knot atop her head, cool air kissing her damp neck.

Already, the sun was starting to set, casting disfigured shadows over the ground. Deciding to rest for the night, she climbed a tall and dense tree. Crawling onto a branch thicker than she was long, she settled against the trunk, the heavy leaves concealing her from view above and below. Wrapping a vine around her middle and the trunk so she didn't fall while she slept, she rested her head against the spiky bark, closing her eyes. The forest seemed to come to life, crickets chirping and the leaves rustling.

She tried to stay alert for sounds as long as possible, but the lull of sleep was too strong. So, exhausted, she drifted off.

~

"What's this?"

"Remnants of a campfire."

The first voice swore. "Someone's close."

Aelin jerked awake, inhaling a sharp breath.

The voices paused. "What was that?"

A deep breath. "I scent a human. But... not."

As quietly as possible, Aelin slid out of her makeshift rope, stepping light-footed across branches. She was just about to leap to the next tree when an arrow lodged itself into her calf. She yelped, falling from the branch and onto the hard ground.

She groaned as two unfamiliar male voice laughed. "Would you look at that. A human. In Prythian. In the Rite, no less."

"Piss off," Aelin panted, glaring up at the two males. Bat wings were tucked close to their backs, tied up with ropes. "I'm warning you." She ripped the arrow from her leg, blood dripping from it. Upon closer inspection, she noticed it was handmade from a small stone and a stick. A crude, rudimentary copy.

"What are you going to do?" One taunted, his onyx eyes glittering. "Scream at us?"

"Nope," she said. "But I will do this."

So quick they couldn't react, she swept out her good foot, sending them sprawling onto their asses. They yelled, but she had already delivered two quick, well=placed punches to their temples. They were out like a light within seconds.

Limping to her feet, Aelin quickly rifled through their clothes, finding makeshift weapons and berries and cooked meat in animal skins. She then grabbed some more of her trusty vines and tied their ankles and hands together, and finally wrapped a spare piece of bandage around the hole in her calf. It wasn't too bad; when she found water, though, she would have to clean it to prevent infection.

So, she continued on, poking out her tongue at the fallen warriors. They didn't move. She walked for another two hours before she began to feel the effects of dehydration. The world shifted in a out of focus; all she could think about was the dryness of her tongue, the scratchiness of her throat.

She stumbled upon yet another clearing, and could've wept with relief as she found a clear stream running through the centre. Collapsing to her knees, she greedily gulped up handfuls of the stuff, water dribbling down her chin and onto her dirty tunic.

Settling onto the ground, she set about making a waterskin of some form; she tightly wove a basket-like structure out of river reeds, and filled it to the brim with water. Once she had quenched her thirst and rinsed her face and neck, she slung the waterskin around her waist and gently cleaned and rebandaged her wound. She exited the clearing.

The next day was easy enough; she didn't run into anyone, and food and water were easy enough to find. On her third day, however, she came across the base of a mountain. Like the others, it was tall and black, a sharp, ragged point. Sighing and grumbling about how the universe loved to play jokes on her, she began her ascent.