No one else moves toward the girl. But as I step into the firelight, many tear their gazes to me. Before their first step toward me hits the ground, I turn back and rush away.
"Don't you run, girl!" They shout.
And as the rebellious little fuck I am, I don't listen.
I sprint harder.
Their feet hit the ground thundering like a quickly moving storm, headed right toward me. Six of them... seven... I guess by their steps and the hodgepodge of heartbeats pounding. That should be enough to help Lincoln. Surely, it's enough. Please... be enough.
I run in the opposite direction in which I hid the stolen goods, knowing full well I'd have to make my way back eventually. My legs ache but in a much different way than I'm used to. My body won't give out on me. I could push ahead for hours to come... but it doesn't feel good. The muscles break down and fight to build back up with every agonizing leap I make.
Still they come. They tear through the forest growing closer with every second. They don't care that I'm new to this Fae body.
An extended, leafless branch snags my wing as I hurtle by. I feel wind travel through it and pain blots my vision with spots of yellow and black. Hard against a large stump I'd missed, my foot smacks against it and my body topples forward.
I can't even register my body connecting with the ground, not when hands clamp over my ankle and drag me back over the stump. Rolling to my back, I kick my other leg out connecting with one of the Fae's chins. But another is quick to grab me. My effort, made feebler by the pain shooting through my wing, is nothing compared to the two Fae men and the many that stand snarling behind them.
"Was it you who touched Ellie?" one snarls, a long-jagged scar curving from his temple around the side of his face and tucked under his chin.
"Mars will have your head for this," another chuckles behind them.
I throw a punch forward with a growl. The Fae drops my boot and dodges it but reaches for my shirt and drags me up to my feet.
"That's enough of your attitude."
Thunk.
His grip loosens on my shirt as he turns and cocks his head.
Thunk.
"What the fuck?" he hisses to his friend, who spins on his heels.
I lean around them as best I can. Two Fae lay sprawled on the ground. Their hearts still beat at a slow but steady pace.
Lincoln’s mind is a silent echo of what it once was. His thoughts are concentrated so pointedly on his task that everything else is quiet. Another body crumples, the Fae's eyes fluttering and rolling to the back of their head.
One after another the ragged group experiences a moment of panic before they too join the others in a deep slumber.
The Fae holding me shakes me by the grip he has on my shirt. "Are you doing this? Stop this, now!"
"I mean... I wish I was doing it." I bite my lip to hold back my growing smile.
He opens his mouth to speak, distorting the long gnarly scar. His gaze falls from my face as he helplessly watches his fingers let go of my shirt one by one. He sways on his feet, knees buckling, before he dissolves like a balloon losing air.
I gingerly rock his unconscious body with my foot. He is... sleeping. How convenient.
"Who's the hero now?" His voice calls.
"Alright, Mr. Voodoo-Mind-Tricks. You can quit using the Force on these unsuspecting Fae." Both my hands balance on my hips as I step over my captor and glance around. "I suppose we can share the hero antics this one time."
Lincoln takes two long deliberate steps into a beam that's managed to break through the canopy. His teeth flash in the moonlight.
"I didn't use any force to knock these morons out." He shrugs.
"No not force like physical force. I mean the Force. Have you ever watched human movies?"
"Uh, no?” He weaves around the scattered bodies, looking down smugly at each of them.
"First thing after this... mess... is all done you and I are going to have a movie marathon. I'm gonna blow your mind." I wiggle my fingers in an outward motion from my skull and make the best explosion noise I can.
Lincoln's mouth tilts down. He looks from my hands to my mouth then meets my gaze still unsatisfied. "That sounds disturbing."
"We really have to get you caught up on human terminology," I sigh.
"Where are the pieces?"
"I hid them."
I point in the general direction and begin walking, less worried about having quiet steps. As Ziko follows me, I turn and point at the Fae bandits.
"Are they gonna be okay?" I say slowly.
He cuts his hand through the air. "They'll be fine. They'll sleep like babies for a day. Hopefully that's plenty of time for us to get this ship up, running, and out to sea."
"You want to show me how to do that?" I try to remember what path I took, exactly how to get back to where I so masterfully hid.
"This way." Lincoln beckons. "I'll gladly show you... but another night. It's kind of exhausting. I need a night’s rest before I give it another go."
"How do you know which way to go? And you don't look tired to me..."
He holds up a finger. "First of all, Briar Anders or should I say Briar Nightwaters, I can smell you. Everything you touched on the way here left behind the slightest trace of your scent."
I scrunch my nose at the thought and pray that I leave behind a pleasant aroma.
He holds up two fingers. "Secondly, adrenaline... is still pumping." He nods his head as finishes his sentence.
"So could Barnabus and the rest of the Fae smell me...? Could they have caught a trail like a hunting dog?" I offer a shy smile, tucking back the loose strands of honey brown hair from my face. Lincoln eats it up watching me with mischief dancing in his eyes.
"I mean, yes. If they stopped and thought about it they totally could have."
"And what do I smell like...?"
"Cinnamon," he says it so quickly it's as if he knew the question was coming.
"How spicy." I laugh. "Cinnamon makes me sneeze."
Lincoln twists and turns through the trees, the forest just as quiet as it was before we found the traps. I recognize the grouping of trees and pause. Ziko stops just a step away, his attention spanning the ground.
"Did you... is this...? You hid them under leaves?"
The scattered 'leaves' I'd tossed over them now looks much more like decay and dirt. Every place my foot drug them over the metal is a line scraped in the mud... like arrows pointing to my little hiding spot.
Lincoln squats and plucks them from the small hole. "Shit. I hope these rusty pieces will do the trick."
A rough wave of guilt washes over me all over again as I look at the parts clutched against his chest. I trail behind him without a word as he moves back toward the sandy beach. I keep my face turned down, lost in the tornado of thoughts and the image of the pirate woman, Ellie, falling unconscious. And it wasn't in the sweet way Lincoln did it. It was by the brash nervous reaction of my elbow.
"What's wrong?" Lincoln's voice is gentle as it enters through my thoughts.
"Nothing."
"Oh, it's something." He doesn't turn but in the dark I can see him tap his temple.
"If you already know then why are you asking?"
"It can help to process something out loud."