He blew out a breath and looked at the sky above him. He’d been unable to sleep during the night as he went through every emotion swirling inside him. He was tasked with keeping his clan safe. Helping Synne was on that same path. However, it meant he’d have to leave the clan.
To remain behind, to leave it to Synne and whoever the Varroki were, was ignoring the oath Lachlan had taken to make sure he did everything in his power to keep his people from harm. And the Coven was undoubtedly a group that everyone should be wary of.
Then there was Synne. From the first moment he’d seen her outside of the forest, he’d been unable to look away. While the trees didn’t speak to him, his instincts kept him out of trouble. And they hadn’t warned him that Synne was an enemy. Then, he’d approached her and found his life altered forever.
Now, he wished he’d asked his sister if she had been able to do magic since it came from his father’s side of the family. After his grandmother had died, the word magic hadn’t been spoken again. Lachlan should’ve brought it up, he should’ve talked to his father about his grandmother and all the things he hadn’t understood. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t certain why he’d resisted, but he regretted it now. And regret was something he strove never to experience.
Both the horses suddenly raised their heads, their ears pointing forward. Something had gotten their attention. Lachlan strained to listen, but he didn’t hear anything. He stared at the animals, waiting to see if they shifted their focus. When they didn’t, he quietly rose and grabbed his sword as he hurried to Synne. Her eyes were already open when he reached her.
He put his finger to his lips and drew his sword out of the scabbard. Synne was on her feet in an instant, moving behind a tree with an arrow already nocked and pointed in the direction of where the horses looked. He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on the long, golden braid of her hair before he focused on finding what had startled the horses.
Lachlan moved soundlessly to another tree and peered around it, trying to determine what was out there. Their mounts didn’t act as if it were a predator, but they also hadn’t looked away.
When he glanced back at Synne, she was no longer there. Something out of the corner of his eye got his attention, and he raised his gaze to find her scaling the tree with such ease and quickness that he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she was far above him, situated on a thick branch with her gaze forward. She was as still as a statue, as silent as a ghost. He forced his eyes away from her and back on the matter at hand, but it was one of the most challenging things he’d ever done.
He cleared his mind. One by one, the sounds around him faded until he heard it—footfalls. Two sets. Whoever it was didn’t speak. But they also didn’t move as warriors would if coming to attack. They took even steps as if someone were taking a stroll, coming right to Synne and him.
They—along with the horses—were concealed, but for how much longer? The two interlopers were on foot, while he and Synne had mounts. This was his clan’s land, and he would face whoever it was. Lachlan took a breath. Before he could move, an arrow landed inches from his foot.
His head jerked upward to Synne, who was staring at him. She gave a single shake of her head. He frowned, wondering how she’d even known what he planned. Then he realized his hand was on the tree. It must have somehow told her. But…that meant the tree knew what he was about.
He looked at the trunk skeptically. He didn’t have magic. How could it know what he was thinking?
Synne doesn’t have magic.
Even after his inner voice stated the fact, Lachlan had a difficult time accepting it. Because if he believed that, then it meant that the trees had always known what humans thought and felt. That indicated they likely screamed out in pain while being cut down, and only their kind had heard it.
He closed his eyes to see if he could feel anything. To his surprise, a heartbeat later, it seemed as if warmth penetrated his palm and ran up his arm to spread throughout his body. His eyes snapped open as he looked at the bark.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
It might have been his imagination, but it didn’t matter. Lachlan had felt something. It was too bad his grandmother wasn’t alive. He would’ve loved to talk to her about this. She could’ve likely shared a font of information with him, had he but asked.
But that was something to consider at another time. Right now, someone came their way. Lachlan glanced at the horses. The two were pressed against each other, their gazes still locked on whoever approached. Lachlan peered around the tree and saw a flash of a pale brown cloak. A moment later, two women came into view. Their hoods were pulled forward, blocking their faces. They walked through the snow as if the cold didn’t affect them, and given the wet hems of their cloaks, it had no doubt penetrated their shoes as well as their gowns.
They halted and looked around before looking at each other. Wordlessly, their heads swiveled back to Lachlan. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he knew they were looking at him. They were female, but there was something altogether different about them. He didn’t need Synne to tell him that these were witches.
He’d never fought one before. Then he recalled that Synne had arrows infused with magic to help in her fight against the Coven. His sword had no magic in it. All he had was his skill, but he wasn’t sure that would be enough.
Perhaps his turmoil regarding whether to go with Synne or not would be taken out of his hands. If he had to sacrifice himself so she could get away and fight the Coven, then so be it. He might not be able to defeat the witches, but he could sure as hell keep them occupied long enough for Synne to take them out.
“We know you’re here, Hunter.”
The voice came from all around them, the English accent clear. Lachlan didn’t know which of the women had spoken, but they were far enough away that they would’ve had to shout for him to hear. He eyed the one in the tan cloak before his gaze moved to the one in the dark green one. He saw something spark in the former’s palm. It looked…yellow.
“Show yourself now, and we’ll end you quickly.”
Lachlan was beginning to hate that voice. He glanced up to look at Synne, but she was gone from her perch. He hadn’t even realized she’d moved.
The witches began walking toward him once more. As he watched, he saw that when the snow became too deep, it was suddenly and inexplicably moved aside to allow the women to walk. The fact that he was seeing magic shouldn’t surprise him, but it did.
“You’ll never survive the Coven. You’re now the one being hunted,” the witch announced.
The laughter that followed sent a chill running down Lachlan’s spine. He glanced at the trees around him, searching for Synne. Then he saw her. She was moving from tree to tree in a fashion he’d never witnessed before. It was almost as if she were floating in the air, she made it look so easy. And the trees… If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were bending to help her.
As Synne made her way behind the two witches, Lachlan turned to the horses. The ropes tethering them were now loose. Both animals were moving slowly away. Lachlan’s gelding looked at him before disappearing behind some trees. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but once more, there wasn’t time to think about it.
“One Hunter. You can’t possibly think to defeat us.”