It didn’t take her long to discover where they were located. The largest gathering of Gira she had ever heard of before was about ten leagues from her current location. She hadn’t spoken to the nymphs in the forest last night, mainly because she wasn’t in the mood. They hadn’t come to her either, and she had been glad of it.
Most times, the Gira steered clear of her. She was an anomaly in their world, something they didn’t want to admit to or recognize. That had once hurt her, but not anymore. She had found her place despite the nymphs wishing to kill her. Now, they feared her.
She had assumed that was why the nymphs in the forest the night before had given her a wide berth. But what if she’d been wrong? What if they kept away because they were hiding? The young Gira she’d tracked and spoken with had run for her life because she had stood up to Sybbyl. She’d told Runa that she had been the only one, but Runa suspected that other nymphs had made their exit quietly, as well, hoping not to draw attention. If that were the case, it wouldn’t be long before their absence was noticed.
The Gira generally went after their own, but there were instances when they preferred to pay someone to do the dirty work. Since Runa had been able to move freely between the humans and the Gira, she took the opportunities given to her—and the coin they provided.
Morea hadn’t approved. Runa had tried to make her foster mother understand that she didn’t hunt for pleasure. It was a job. Simple as that. Besides, the Gira had killed numerous humans over the years. At least, that was Runa’s argument—one that had always ended with Morea turning away.
Runa opened her eyes and dropped her hands from the trees. The nymphs’ magic was powerful. In many cases, more powerful than any witch’s. Runa would even garner to say it was stronger than the Varroki’s. The problem was, the Gira were selfish. They gave only the magic they were forced to give to the group. The rest, they kept for themselves.
Morea, and it seemed Asrail, as well, were two exceptions to the rule—in everything. They had sacrificed their standing, and even their lives, to give both Runa and her sister a chance. She just wished that Morea had told her about Synne. She didn’t understand why her foster mother had kept that secret from her, and there was no way to get the answer now.
Her thoughts turned back to the Gira. She wondered if Sybbyl knew how potent the nymphs’ magic was. Add that to Sybbyl’s magic, which the Staff of the Eternal boosted, and the Coven leader could well take over the world.
Runa pulled the hood of her cloak up to cover her face as she thought about the Hunters that had been killed. Synne had been raised with them, but her sister had escaped the massacre. There was a chance that other Hunters were also out there somewhere. There wasn’t nearly enough of them, however. Not with the sheer number of Gira.
Then there was the Varroki. Runa could only hope that Synne wasn’t being treated differently because she was half-Gira.
The snow began to fall harder. Runa looked northeast, where she knew the pack of Gira were. She would only be able to get so close before they sensed her. It was doubtful that she could get close enough to see Sybbyl or even her grandmother, Asrail. While the Gira tended to stay away from her because she hunted them when an offer came through, that didn’t mean they would allow her near. Most likely, the moment they realized that she was there, they would descend upon her. She wouldn’t help anyone if the Gira killed her.
She couldn’t go to her sister since she didn’t know where the Varroki were.
She couldn’t go to the Coven for her grandmother since the Gira would alert Sybbyl.
She couldn’t find a Hunter for help because she had no idea where to locate one—or if there were any left.
Runa looked back the way she had come and debated trying to find the Gira who had hidden in the forest to see if they would join her, but she already knew the answer. They were running away. Otherwise, they would’ve alerted the others that she was here.
An owl hooted above her. She raised her head to see a small white owl high in the branches of a tree. It blinked its big, yellow eyes at her before swiveling its head. Runa watched it for a few minutes before the bird flew away. When she lowered her gaze, a woman stood off to the side, watching her with deep blue eyes.
“I wondered if you would find your way here,” she said with a smile as she drew back the hood of her cloak to reveal wavy, pale blond hair.
Runa narrowed her eyes on the petite woman. “Is that right?”
“It is, Runa.” The woman’s smile widened. “I see I’ve surprised you. Good. I think you need more surprises. I’m Asa.”
“How do you know me?”
Asa nodded toward the owl that flew toward her. The moment Asa lifted her arm, the bird perched upon it. “Frida told me.”
That’s when Runa knew. “You’re a witch.”
“I am. I lived at the abbey with the other witches and Hunters, including your sister, Synne. I’ve been searching for you ever since.”
Runa flexed her fingers, ready to grab her blades. “Why have you been looking for me?”
“The same reason you’re here.”
4
Brom watched Runa and the witch from a distance. He had opted not to tell Runa that he had been looking for her before they met. She was already wary, and she likely wouldn’t have believed him. Just the brief interaction they’d shared had told him so much about her.
She was capable of taking care of herself. There also didn’t seem to be much that frightened her. She had stood her ground against him, unwavering in her knowledge that she could take him down. Though, she had underestimated him and allowed him to get the drop on her by way of his dagger.
Still, Runa obviously had skills. She held her short swords as if she used them every day—which she most likely did. Her comfort level with the blades told him that she wouldn’t hesitate to use them if needed.
Then there was her stature. She held herself with grace and confidence. Her breeches did nothing to distract from the fact that she was a woman. Quite the opposite, really. He found himself wishing her cloak was gone so he could see all of her legs as well as her backside. But he hadn’t gotten that view.
Yet.
It was difficult to determine how long her blond hair was since it was twisted into so many plaits that he didn’t know where one ended and another began. Her eyes, however, were the gateway to not only her soul but also her mind. When she’d looked at him, he could see her mulling over different responses to whatever he might say. She wasn’t just any woman. There was something distinctly different about her. What that might be, he couldn’t pinpoint quite yet. He still wondered how she had moved in the snow without leaving any footprints. It wasn’t done with magic, because he’d looked for that. So, how had she done it? He would have to get her to tell him. Right after he got close enough and convinced her to trust him.
Brom chuckled to himself. That wasn’t going to happen. Not that he blamed her. He didn’t trust anyone either, so he knew this wasn’t going to be an easy task. He hadn’t imagined finding her so soon. Now that he had, he still wasn’t sure what to do.
Help her? Hinder her?
Stop her?
The possibilities were endless. That was the main reason he hadn’t told her that he recognized her face. She’d asked if he knew her, and he’d said no. Because he didn’t. She hadn’t asked the right question. Of course, he was splitting hairs. But until he knew exactly what he was doing, he would be cautious.