“I’ll go look for somewhere safe. You do the deer,” I told him, as I searched the woods. He wanted to fling a retort at me. Tor was sweet, kind, and brave. He was everything I loved. He wanted to be my protector; he wanted to do everything for me so that I wouldn’t have a chance of being in danger. Sweet. However, I was no damsel in distress.
He wanted to tell me no, but he also knew this was a fight he wouldn’t win so he remained silent. Though his posture remained rigid, his jaw ticked while he clenched back his argument.
“Stay safe. If you need help, scream loud enough to shake the trees.” I’d have to snuggle up close to him tonight after this. I nodded, pleading with my eyes for him to understand that I needed this. This freedom. The world sucked. I couldn’t be some princess locked away while he took care of everything for me. He knew it, too. I left to find us shelter so we could make jerky, and it went against everything inside him to let me go. He didn’t come after me; he showed trust, and I smiled.
I made no sound with every step I took, my boots never crunched on a dead leaf, and my hand always stayed attached to my sword. This land around looked different than I was used to, more rugged and dry. The mountains near us were not like the rolling hills of the East. Trees thinned and there wouldn’t be much cover for us soon. After we’d made our food tonight, we needed to get somewhere else quick. Being out in the open made us vulnerable.
Sweat dropped from my brow when I found an old shack hidden near a creek. Dust coated the old and rundown wood. It looked like it might fall down with a gentle breeze. My gut told me it was safe, except a creeping suspicion in my mind wouldn’t let me drop my guard. I scoped out the area around it, checking nearby for Dramens who could be waiting for someone to fall for their shack trap. I found none, just an old hunting shack someone had used before, though not recently, if all the bugs and rot were any evidence. It was the only thing I’d found in the vicinity and would have to do.
A three-legged chair, a dirty rug, and an axe resting in the corner were the lone inhabitants of this small temporary home. Well, the bugs were present, too. I didn’t care for bugs, but we lacked options.
I heard noise outside the window . . . not feet stepping, only a manly grunt. I ducked down and peered with just my eyes showing through the broken window. Tor steadily carried the deer over his shoulder about half a mile away, having followed me with tracking tricks he’d never shown me, even though I begged to know. I wouldn’t hear his grunts from here unless he made loud noises, which would not be typical Tor behavior.
My stomach clenched at the only possible conclusion. Someone else was here.
Chapter Four
I had no time to brace myself from the splintering wood exploding in front of me. A large man with dark hair, tan skin, and leather clothes burst through the door. His face had black paint on it and feathers covered his shoulders. A Dramen was here to capture his prey.
His rough, callused hands gripped my arm, then my hair. I didn’t scream for fear there were more and they would follow the sounds. He did not care that it hurt or if I was broken before he used me and took me to sell on the market.
I was no one’s slave.
My fingers gripped the hilt of my sword, ready to fight, to survive. He grabbed the belt it was on and ripped it from my hip. The pinch of the leather breaking against my skin added to the consuming pain of him dragging me away from the shack by my hair.
I had to do something. Tor would see me and come, but if they had a horse then that would be it for me.
My teeth clenched from the barely contained rage as I twisted myself against his hold. I didn’t care if I wound up with bald patches in my hair. My hand reached for his manhood and twisted hard. He yelled, and if any of his friends were near, they would be on their way to his aid soon. His grip relaxed and I kicked his broad body away from me. Tears flooded my eyes from the yank on my head. I scrambled for the shack and the dusty axe I’d seen. My sword had fallen behind the Dramen and would be too much of a risk to scramble for and potentially fail.
As soon as my fingers wrapped around the handle, arms of a feral man gripped my legs. My face fell forward to the wall. Intense pain bloomed in my nose, followed by the cascading warmth of blood flowing down my face, soaking my dirty shirt.
The hatred in his narrowed glare told me there would be no mercy. The anger from my little twist would override his will to keep me alive. Dramens had lost their humanity and mercy. All that remained was anarchy.
He leaned closer. The scent of dirt and sweat assaulted my damaged nose, giving me the urge to vomit.
A wet tongue flicked against my bloody chin, as I cried out in disgust. His breath made my stomach churn, and his rough touch roamed over my torso. He was playing with his food before he killed it.
Not today, asshole.
The axe in my hand moved up . . . up . . . past my head and into his wide-eyed face.
The dull blade did its job. The Dramen crumbled to the ground, his heavy weight shaking the shack as he fell. An arrow protruding from his back caught my attention. Tor had arrived. Steady hands cradled my bloody face instantly.
“You’re OK?” he growled, his voice low enough to be a whisper in the open forest. His rage was palpable in the air around us.
“I’m fine. We need to move.” The sound of wet, ripping skin and the scraping of metal against bone echoed in the small shack as I pulled the axe out of the Dramen’s face.
Tor retrieved his arrow and cut as much meat of the deer we could place in a plastic bag. My sword belt was torn, so I did my best to tie it around my waist until I could find another. We were gone in fifteen minutes. The majority of the deer was left for wild scavengers to eat. More Dramens would be coming and if we didn’t haul ass, we would be dead.
My face ached, and my muscles burned like they were on fire as we moved quickly across the barren land. The desert turned cold as the dark approached. We needed sleep. Tor had been quiet since we left the shack by the creek. It was a lethal calm that had me glancing his way, watching him nervously.
Was he afraid I could have died? Was he feeling anger for not being there? For letting me go off by myself?
When we’d stop, I’d ask him.
Hours into the night, we finally found a small abandoned town. The Dramens of these regions preferred the outdoors to towns. Their nature was wild, and houses were too confining. For once we were safer here than hiding in the trees or brush.
Walking through an abandoned town was unlike anything else imaginable. People had died here, not just from Dramens but from the day mankind fell. They had people who loved them, jobs and lives to live. Then one day it all disappeared. Coffee mugs still sat next to papers on the breakfast table, and cars were parked in the middle of the road where people had sat in traffic. Stop signs that people held for children to cross the road safely lay on the cracked asphalt, weeds growing over the once heavily walked paths.
“Which house, dear?” I politely asked Tor, hoping the fluttering of my eyelashes and sweet voice would turn the hard line of his lips into a smile. It didn’t. He silently picked a house in the middle of the small town. It had many places to hide, escape routes, and a quick run to the woods if needed. Ten miles away, a much larger city dwelled, so this was perfect, away from the desert lands where the Dramens camped and the city where they liked to hide and capture people who went looking for supplies.